Chapter 281

ALINA

FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER

I crouched behind the thick bushes, heart hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to escape my ribcage.

The baseball bat rested in my hands — heavy, awkward, and completely ridiculous against men carrying assault rifles.

But it was the only thing I could find.

I watched Alexander.

He moved through the battlefield like something out of a nightmare — silent, precise, terrifyingly efficient. His black shirt was already stained with blood, yet he fought like he’d just stepped out of the shower. Every movement was smooth. Every strike deliberate.

One second he was behind someone.

The next…

They were on the ground.

Honestly…

It was disgustingly sexy.

Honestly, there had to be something seriously wrong with me.

If we weren't currently in the middle of a hostage situation with armed psychopaths, I would've climbed that man like a tree.

The way his muscles flexed under that shirt, the cold focus in his eyes, the way he made violence look graceful…

The complete confidence with which he dismantled grown men...

It was completely unfair.

Who gave him permission to be that attractive while committing multiple felonies?

Fuck.

I forced myself to look away.

Focus, Alina.

Children.

Life-threatening danger.

Very bad time to be horny.

I tightened my grip on the bat and let out a slow breath.

No eye-fucking your ridiculously attractive husband.

Focus.

What do I do now?

Stay put... or completely ignore everything hubby dearest just told me?

The tiny, sensible voice in my head cleared its throat.

Stay put, Alina. He literally said, Stay down. Those were the instructions. Very simple. Very clear. Even a golden retriever could follow them.

Excuse you. Golden retrievers don't have terrified children to rescue.

No. But they do know how to obey.

Ouch.

Before I could argue, another, far less responsible part of my brain barged into the conversation.

Counterargument... when have we ever actually listened to Alexander?

I thought about it.

Hmm...

Never.

Not once.

The man gives me instructions like they're polite suggestions.

It's basically become our love language.

He says, "Don't."

I hear, "Try not to get caught."

My conscience groaned.

That explains why he constantly looks like he's one minor inconvenience away from a stress-induced heart attack.

Or premature grey hair.

I bit back a smile.

He'd still look hot with grey hair.

My conscience groaned.

This is exactly why nobody can have a serious conversation with you.

Shut up.

He knew what he was signing up for when he married me.

Pretty sure he didn't.

Too late now. No refunds.

I peeked around the bushes again.

Alexander was currently introducing another attacker’s face to the nearest tree.

God.

That was fucking hot.

I smacked myself lightly on the forehead.

Stop it, Alina.

You can shamelessly objectify your husband later.

Preferably when he isn’t actively committing homicide.

I forced my eyes away from him for all of three seconds.

Then, completely against my own better judgment, they wandered straight back.

Obviously my husband had the situation under control for now…

So fine. I’d listen.

Mostly.

I would stay hidden. I would stay close. I would make sure nobody managed to sneak up behind him while he was busy turning armed mercenaries into corpses.

I’d follow him quietly, staying in the shadows.

Like a guardian angel.

His silent protector. One step behind.

Unnoticed.

No way he’d even realize I was there.

(My conscience immediately called bullshit.)

Alexander notices everything.

A leaf falls three miles away, and somehow he'll know exactly which tree it came from, what species, and probably who to blame for it.

He definitely doesn't need you charging in like some overzealous one-woman rescue squad with a bat you could barely swing straight.

I furrowed my brow, feeling that familiar twinge of doubt creep in.

Okay. Fine.

I exhaled softly, adjusting my grip on the bat.

Maybe not invisible.

Maybe more like… strategically present.

Close enough to jump in if things went to hell.

Far enough away that he wouldn’t have a full cardiac event the second he realized his wife had decided to storm a war zone armed with sporting equipment. Again.

I took a slow breath, trying to smother the grin tugging at my mouth despite everything currently on fire around us.

Strategic invisibility. That's the plan.

I nodded to myself.

Perfect.

A brilliant plan.

A flawless plan.

A plan that absolutely depended on me not doing anything stupid.

So, realistically, a terrible plan.

Before I could argue with myself any further, movement caught my eye.

Matteo.

One of the younger boys was crouched beside the playground equipment alone, tiny hands clamped over his ears, eyes squeezed shut so tightly his whole body shook with silent sobs.

“Matteo,” I whispered.

He couldn’t hear me.

Shit.

Keeping low, I put the bat down and slipped from bush to bush, using the stone walls and flower beds as cover.

Please don’t let Alexander see me.

He’d have an aneurysm.

“Matteo,” I called again, a little louder.

His head snapped up.

For one hopeful second, I thought he’d run to me.

Then..

A sharp crack echoed through the area, followed by shouting.

“Where are the fucking kids?” a man’s voice barked, raw with urgency.

“Find them!”

Matteo’s head snapped toward the noise.

Then bolted.

Straight toward the back of the orphanage, hands still clamped over his ears, small body shaking with terror.

“Oh, come on!”

I shot to my feet and sprinted after him.

“Matteo, wait!”

He disappeared around the corner of the building.

“Seriously?” I groaned, chasing after him.

“Why are children so fast when they’re running away from the adult trying to save them?”

I rounded the corner, lungs burning, heart slamming against my ribs.

Matteo was just ahead of me.

I saw him dart through the open side door of the building, small body disappearing into the shadows inside.

“Matteo!”

I pushed harder, closing the distance—when...

A hand clamped over my mouth from behind.

Hard.

Brutal.

I was yanked backward against a solid chest, my feet nearly leaving the ground. Another arm locked around my waist, pinning my arms tight against my body.

A low voice brushed against my ear, warm and sickeningly familiar.

“Missed me, beautiful?”

I went completely still.

For one frozen second, the world stopped.

Santos.

The name slammed into me like a physical blow.

Then pure, white-hot panic and rage exploded through me.

I twisted hard, trying to wrench free, kicking backward, thrashing against the iron grip holding me. My muffled scream vibrated against his palm as I fought with everything I had.

His arm only tightened.

“Shh,” he whispered against my ear.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

I bit down hard on the hand covering my mouth.

He hissed but didn’t let go.

"Fucking bitch."

He dragged me backward, away from the open courtyard, away from Alexander, away from any chance of being seen.

I kept fighting.

Kicking.

Twisting.

Trying to scream.

But his grip was relentless.

And for the first time since the invasion started…

Real terror settled in my chest.

Santos’s grip tightened, and my stomach lurched. I fought the urge to retch as dizziness crashed over me again.

Everything around me felt dark and closing in. I wanted to scream Alexander’s name, but no sound came out.

When he shoved me into the waiting car, I finally managed to scream.

“Alexander!”

The door slammed shut before the sound could carry far enough.

Santos slid in beside me as the vehicle started moving. I scrambled away from him, pressing myself against the opposite door, hands fumbling desperately for the handle.

No. No. No.

I yanked at the handle, but it was locked.

"Alexander!"

His hand shot out and fisted in my hair, yanking my head back so hard my scalp burned.

He slammed my face into the window once. Twice. Pain exploded through my skull. Blood filled my mouth.

“Your husband is a little tied up at the moment,” Santos said coldly, keeping my cheek pressed hard against the glass.

“Don’t fucking disturb him. And stop fucking struggling like a wild animal. You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

He twisted my hair tighter, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burned with cold, unhinged fury.

“You really thought you could just run from me? After everything? After I paid for you? After I waited years for you?” His voice dripped with bitter, almost manic sarcasm.

“How touching. How fucking brave. Did you honestly believe that Alexander Dimitri would stop me from taking what’s mine? That overgrown, arrogant bastard?”

He leaned in closer, breath hot against my face, eyes wild and fever-bright.

“I own you. You were bought and paid for long before he ever laid eyes on you. And now you run around playing house with him? Pretending you belong to someone else?”

A harsh, broken laugh tore from his throat —

“You think you get to choose? You think that man gets to keep what’s mine? I paid for you. I waited. I earned you. And every second you spent in his bed, under his hands, smiling at him like you were free—”

His voice cracked into a snarl. “—is a second I’m going to make you suffer for. You don’t get to pretend. You don’t get to run. You belong to me.”

“And the more you fight, the more I’m going to enjoy breaking every last piece of that stubborn little spirit until there’s nothing left but the broken, obedient girl who finally understands her place. Until you stop screaming his name and start begging for mine.”

I struggled harder, twisting against his grip.

“No… get away from me!”

He slammed my head against the glass one more time for emphasis.

Stars burst across my vision. Pain radiated through my skull in sharp, blinding waves.

“Sit still, Alina,” he snarled, voice low and venomous.

“Or I swear I’ll make you regret every single second you spent thinking you could escape me.”

Tears spilled down my face as he forced me to turn toward him. His eyes were dark and empty of anything human.

“You’ve been very bad, my beautiful pet. But it’s time for you to come home now.”

I tried to twist away, but his free hand moved fast. A sharp sting pierced my thigh. I looked down and saw the syringe still half-buried in my skin.

“No—” The word came out slurred already.

His stare remained cold and unfeeling.

The back of his hand cracked across my face, sending me crashing into the door again. My head rang. Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.

“Alexander…” I whimpered.

Santos’s face twisted with pure rage. He grabbed my jaw and forced my face harder against the window.

“You will learn never to say that name again,” he hissed.

I tried to shake my head, forcing my eyes open even as the drug pulled me under.

“I was too easy on you before,” he whispered against my ear, nails digging into my cheek.

“I gave you time to accept me. That time is over. Now you’re going to learn what real pain feels like.”

A wash of numbness flooded through me. I shuddered violently as my body weakened and crumbled under his hold and the drug spreading through my veins.

My eyes rolled back.

All I could do was cry silently and stay still as the drug pulled me under, the dizziness swallowing me into a thick cloud of darkness and despair. I submitted to the heavy weight dragging me down.

My eyes closed.

My final thought, as the darkness claimed me completely, was of him.

I’m sorry, Alexander… I should have listened.

I love you.

His name was nothing more than a fading whisper in my mind as consciousness slipped away.

Alexander.

The last thing I heard was the low rumble of the engine as the orphanage disappeared behind us.