Chapter 18
I spat at Morris’s feet, my defiance rising despite the fear coursing through me. “No matter what or who he is, I believe in him. He has no reason to save me otherwise. I can’t be helpful to him in any way, so I don’t care what you say about him.”
My voice grew stronger with each word. “I love him, even if he’s the god of the underworld, even if he’s the man everyone fears–he’s MY man! Do you understand? And I’ll never fear him, because he’s only ever cared for me.” I shot a venomous glare at Hank. “Unlike some people.”
Vella scoffed, but I wasn’t finished.
“And he’s not going to fall for any of your traps.” A laugh bubbled up from my chest, surprising even me. “The coincidences? I knew they weren’t just coincidences. I knew there was something about his perfect timing.” My laughter grew louder, more confident. “You morons! He knows. He always knows where I am. He always knows if I need to be saved.”
“Well said, my queen.“.
The deep, familiar voice cut through the warehouse like a blade. Everyone jolted, heads whipping toward the entrance where shadows masked the doorway.
Morris and Hank raised their guns in unison, bodies tensing. Hank’s hand trembled slightly, his damaged face contorting with fear.
From the darkness emerged Jules, his silhouette materializing like a specter before taking solid form. He walked with the casual confidence of a predator in its territory, each step deliberate and unhurried. The dim light caught the gleam of metal in both his hands–twin pistols held with the ease of someone who’d been born with weapons in his grip.
His suit remained impeccable, not a wrinkle or speck of dust to suggest he’d rushed here or faced any resistance. The only indication of his lethal intent was in his eyes–cold, calculating, yet burning with a quiet rage that made the air in the warehouse feel electrified.
“Jules,” Morris hissed, his gun wavering slightly.
Vella cowered behind her husband but attempted to mask her fear with bravado. “You’re trapped, Jules! Surrender now, and we’ll let her go.”
Hank rushed to my side, pressing his gun against my temple while Morris kept his aimed at Jules’s chest. “One more step and she dies, Hank threatened, his breath hot against my ear.
Jules didn’t stop. If anything, his smile widened–the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes but promised violence. He continued his measured approach, the guns in his hands catching what little light filtered through the broken windows.
“You trust me, baby?” Jules asked, his eyes finding mine amidst the chaos.
Despite the cold metal pressed against my skin, I smiled. “Yes.”
In one fluid motion, Jules raised both hands in what appeared to be surrender. The guns slipped from his fingers, clattering to the concrete floor with a finality that echoed through the warehouse.
Morris blinked in disbelief before a triumphant laugh escaped his lips. “Haha! How the mighty have fallen–for a woman!” He shook his head, savoring the moment. “You ended up losing the
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empire you built.”
Hank’s grip on me loosened slightly, his confidence growing as he witnessed Jules’s apparent capitulation.
Jules chuckled, the sound sending a chill through the room. “Oh, jealous brother,” he said, his voice deceptively light. “You thought I was surrendering?” His smile turned predatory. “It was just a signal.”
The words had barely left his mouth when shots rang out–precise, controlled bursts that struck the guns in Morris’s and Hank’s hands. They dropped their weapons with howls of pain, clutching their injured hands to their chests.
“What is this?” Morris demanded, his face contorted with shock and rage.
Jules’s smile never wavered. “Look up.”
As one, we all tilted our heads toward the ceiling. What I saw made my breath catch–dozens of red laser dots dancing across the warehouse, all aimed at Morris, Vella, and Hank. From the rafters, the broken windows, every conceivable vantage point, Jules’s men had the warehouse surrounded.
“You’re trapped,” Jules said, echoing Vella’s earlier words. “You always were.”
He strode forward, unhurried, and untied me from the chair. His fingers lingered on my wrists, gently massaging the rope burns as he helped me to my feet.
“Are you okay?” he murmured, his eyes scanning my face with genuine concern.
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
Jules pulled me against his chest, his arms encircling me protectively. “I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re safe now.”
For a moment, he was just Jules–my Jules–holding me as if I were the most precious thing in his world.
Then he turned, and the transformation was immediate. His posture straightened, his expression hardened, and the dangerous aura that Morris had spoken of enveloped him like a second skin. He leaned against a nearby table, casual yet commanding, as he regarded his captives.
“Now,” Jules said, his voice dropping to that deadly register that seemed to make the very air vibrate, “what should I do with you all?”
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