Chapter 226 The Mad Dog Breaks Out

Chapter 226 The Mad Dog Breaks Out
Sebastian kept his combat pistol raised. He pushed me behind his broad shoulder. I stared at the ruined archway of the living room. Glass glittered on the marble floor of the foyer. The heavy oak front doors hung in splinters. The cold night air rushed into the mansion, carrying the scent of rain and crushed leaves.

Footsteps crunched over the debris. Heavy, measured boots.

Bob stepped into the light. He held a man by the collar of a cheap gray suit. The man bled from a broken nose. He looked terrified. He possessed zero weapons.

"A scout," Bob reported. His deep voice cut through the blaring alarm. "European cartel. He drove a stolen truck into the iron gates. He tried to throw a brick through the front window. I intercepted him on the lawn."

Sebastian lowered the barrel of his gun. The lethal tension in his spine eased a fraction. He looked at the bleeding scout.

"A message," Sebastian stated. "Armand Moreau wants to show he possesses teeth. He wants to prove our borders remain vulnerable after the negotiation."

"He sent a single idiot in a stolen truck," I said. I stepped out from behind Sebastian. "He possesses zero tactical sense."

"Take him to the basement," Sebastian ordered Bob. "Extract his route. Dispose of him. Fix the front doors."

Bob nodded. He dragged the whimpering scout out of the foyer.

Sebastian walked to the security panel on the wall. He punched in a numerical code. The siren died.

Silence crashed back into the mansion.

The interruption ended. The adrenaline spike plateaued. We stood alone in the wreckage of the grand entrance.

I looked at the man standing a few feet away. The ruined navy suit. The blood on his collar. The combat pistol in his hand. We survived the war. We survived the press. We paid a corrupt judge fifty million dollars to rewrite history.

For six years, a piece of paper stood between us. A legal document filed in a state archive. My mother’s signature. His signature. It forced us to hide. It turned every glance into a sin. It weaponized our connection.

That paper burned tonight. The judge erased the digital footprint. The physical copy turned to ash in our fireplace.

I felt the absence of the weight. The air in my lungs felt different. The invisible chain around my neck shattered. The shift in gravity hit my bones.

Sebastian turned around. He looked at me.

The gray storm in his eyes shifted. The protector died. The guardian vanished. The man remained. A single man.

He dropped the heavy combat pistol onto a side table. The steel clattered against the wood.

He closed the distance between us. He did not hesitate. He did not pause to check the sightlines or worry about the staff. The staff worked for us. The house belonged to us.

He stopped inches away. The heat radiating from his chest cut through the chill of the broken doors.

"The borders hold," Sebastian said. His voice dropped to a low, rough vibration.

"Bob secured the perimeter," I agreed.

"I do not mean the estate." He reached out. He wrapped his large hand around the back of my neck. His fingers tangled in my dark hair. His grip felt possessive. It felt like a brand. "I mean our borders. The lines we drew. The rules we followed."

I tilted my head up. I met his stare. "The rules are gone."

"The law owns nothing," he stated. His thumb traced the line of my jaw. "Your mother owns nothing. I am a single man."

"You are."

He stepped closer. My chest brushed against his blood-stained shirt.

"For years, I kept my distance," Sebastian confessed. The raw truth spilled into the space between us. "I watched you build the logistics grid. I watched you destroy the boardroom executives. I wanted to drag you out of those meetings and claim you in front of the entire firm. I wanted to show the city who owned your mind."

My pulse hammered against my ribs. The dark, heavy tension mutated. The forbidden aspect evaporated. A fierce, territorial claim replaced it.

"You held back," I whispered.

"I protected your reputation," he corrected. "The press hunts for scandal. The board demands pristine optics. The paper your mother forced me to sign turned my touch into poison. If I claimed you, I ruined you."

"The paper is ash."

"The paper is ash," he echoed.

He leaned down. He did not ask for permission. He did not offer a gentle caress.

His mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss tasted of unfiltered dominance. He poured years of restrained hunger into the contact. His lips bruised mine. His tongue demanded entry. I opened for him. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. I met his heat with my own.

He backed me across the marble floor. My spine hit the wall near the grand staircase.

He pressed his solid frame against my body. His thigh slid between my legs, pinning me to the plaster.

"You are mine," Sebastian grated against my mouth.

"Mine," I claimed him back. I dug my nails into his shoulders. "You belong to me. The empire belongs to us."