Chapter 7 My Saviour
Raphael's POV
They were ready and willing to give me the wrong bride. Can you believe that? They actually thought they could pull that off, like I wouldn't notice or something.
That was when I noticed that her stepmom, Margot, doesn't like her. Actually, it was more than just not liking her. The woman absolutely hated Vivienne, and I couldn't understand why at first.
But then it all started making sense. Why would someone set her up with different men all the time, pushing and pressuring her just to get married? It wasn't about wanting her to be happy or settled. No, it was something else entirely.
Something darker. Margot was manipulating her dad, playing him like a puppet on strings, and all of it was about one thing. Vivienne's inheritance. The money. The property. Everything that should rightfully belong to Vivienne when the time came.
That's what this was really about. Margot wanted to get rid of Vivienne, marry her off to whoever would take her, just so she could get her greedy hands on everything that belonged to this family. It made me sick to my stomach thinking about it.
The moment Lucien said he gave her time to dress up, I knew exactly what was going to happen. I knew she would run away. I could see it coming from a mile away because that's exactly what I would do if I were in her position. Who wouldn't run when you're being forced into something you don't want? When you're being used and manipulated by people who are supposed to care about you?
I had to find her before anyone else did. Before Margot realized what was happening and sent people after her.
I quickly scanned the different routes that she might use to escape, my eyes moving over every possible exit from the house. There were several doors, several windows, several ways she could slip out unnoticed. But I had to think like her. Where would she go? What would she do? She's smart, probably smarter than everyone in that house gave her credit for.
Then I noticed it. The back door. It was hardly used by anyone. Most people didn't even remember it was there because it was tucked away in a corner, behind some old furniture and boxes that had been piled up over time. That's the most secured place she might want to use. It made perfect sense. Nobody would be watching that exit because nobody thought about it.
I decided to run after her immediately. I didn't waste another second. I couldn't let her get too far ahead, couldn't risk losing track of her in the darkness outside.
Because here's the thing - she complements me in every way. I know that sounds strange considering the circumstances, considering how we met and everything that's happened between us. But it's true. Her stubbornness, that fire in her eyes when she refuses to back down, that sharp tongue of hers that never holds back - that's exactly what I need.
That's what I need her to have so that she doesn't break when she starts seeing the other side of me.
The side that isn't always pretty. The side that has to make hard decisions and do difficult things. The side that has enemies who want me dead.
She needs to be strong enough to handle that. And I know she is. I've seen it in her.
Unfortunately, in the quest to look for her, everything went wrong. I was moving fast, checking the streets and alleys near the house, trying to figure out which direction she might have gone. My mind was focused entirely on finding her, on making sure she was safe.
That's when I ran into them. Some hired killers, professional ones by the look of them, hired by someone of high value to eliminate me. They'd been waiting, probably watching the house, looking for their opportunity. And I'd walked right into their trap because I was distracted, because I was thinking about her instead of watching my own back.
There were three of them, all armed, all ready to finish the job they'd been paid to do.
I tried talking to them at first. After much begging, trying to reason with them, trying to offer them more money than whoever hired them was paying. But they refused, their faces cold and expressionless.
"The job must be done," one of them said simply, like he was talking about fixing a leaky pipe or mowing a lawn. Like taking someone's life was just another task to check off a list.
Then the shots were fired. The sound was deafening in the quiet night. Pain exploded through my body, hot and sharp and overwhelming. I felt myself falling, hitting the ground hard. More shots followed, making sure they'd finished what they started.
After that, they just left me there to die. Didn't check to make sure I was actually dead, didn't finish the job properly. They just walked away like I was already a corpse, like I was nothing more than garbage left on the street.
I lay down there on the cold, dirty ground, blood pooling beneath me. I was thinking my whole life had come to an end.
Everything I'd built, everything I'd done, all the plans I'd made - it was all over. Just like that. In a dark alley behind some building, bleeding out while the people who did this to me walked away without a second thought.
My vision was getting blurry. Everything was starting to fade at the edges, going dark and fuzzy. The pain was still there but it was getting distant somehow, like it was happening to someone else's body instead of mine.
That's when I saw her.
At first her face wasn't clear. Everything was too hazy, too unclear. The effect of the bullet had started working, shutting down my body bit by bit, making it harder and harder to focus on anything. My eyes wouldn't work properly anymore. But even though I couldn't see her face clearly, I knew it was her.
Because her voice was exactly the same. That voice I'd recognize anywhere, the one that had been stuck in my head since the first time I heard it.
The same stubborn voice that got me hooked every single time we talk. That voice that never gives up, never backs down, never shows fear even when she should probably be terrified.
"I can't wait for him anymore," she said, and I could hear the frustration and worry in those words.
Then I felt her hands on me, grabbing my arms, trying to lift me. She was dragging me away from the alley behind the old port, pulling me with a strength I didn't know she had. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through my body, but I couldn't even make a sound. I couldn't tell her to stop or to be careful or that she needed to save herself instead of trying to save me.
All I could do was let her drag me, trusting that somehow, some way, she would figure out what to do next.