Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Rafael’s POV
The moment I stepped into the club, I felt that tight coil in my chest that I haven't felt in years.
That edge in the air that told me I was nearly too late.
I had been on my way back from a meeting one that had managed to run longer than I liked because of some traitor.
Every minute I wasn’t with her bothered me, and when Marco’s text came through, telling me where they were I didn’t hesitate.
I should’ve been furious they’d taken her out without me. I should’ve told them to bring her back to the villa but instead, I decided to see for myself.
And then I saw her sitting in that booth like she didn’t belong to this place, didn’t belong in this noise, this filth. The lights threw shadows across her face, but I saw the unease in her eyes. She was holding a drink she clearly didn’t want, her shoulders were drawn in, like she was trying to make herself small.
And then I saw him, a man in a tailored suit, black hair, leaning in too close to her. The kind of man who thought his wallet could buy anything. The kind of man who liked to test limits just to see how far he could push before someone stopped him.
He had no idea whose limit he was about to cross.
I moved closer, every step I took was deliberate. No one stopped me, they never do. I saw his mouth moving saying something to her, I saw the way her eyes moved to Sofia showing the subtle panic she was trying to hide.
She was already shaking her head at whatever offer that fucker made, but he wasn’t hearing no.
Then he touched her his fingers sliding along her arm, gripping her wrist when she tried to pull away.
The coil in my chest tightened.
I don’t remember passing through the crowd all I remember was seeing red.
Marco’s voice came sharp from across the table “Hey, man. Let go of her.” But the bastard ignored him. Instead, he yanked her toward him, like he owned her... like she was something he could take.
I was already there when she gasped, “Let go of me!” I saw his hand starting to move toward her waist.
That’s when I spoke.
“That’s enough.”
The sound of my voice cut through the music. She turned toward me, her eyes went wide, relief flickering there for the briefest moment before fear slid in. Not fear of him. Fear of me.
Good!.
I wanted her to be afraid, because that meant she understood , what I was about to do wasn’t something you could come back from.
I didn’t look at her again. My eyes were locked on him, and the rest of the world went quiet. I took the gun from inside my jacket with smooth practiced precision. The cold weight of it kept me alive.
The man’s smirk faltered instantly, his hands twitched upward like he was about to explain himself but I stepped closer ,I didn't want to hear any of it.
“You touched her,” I said, my voice was low enough so that only he could hear. “That was your last mistake.”
He stammered something about not meaning any harm but I didn’t care. I didn’t give a damn about his excuses. I closed the distance until there was nowhere for him to go.
“You will never ever lay a hand on her again.”
And then I pulled the trigger.
The bullet sound echoed through the club like lightning splitting the sky. His body jerked backwards, his eyes went wide like he didn't believe whatever that happened, and then he crumpled to the floor, lifeless.
Silence.
The crowd froze, watching me, watching her, waiting to see what I’d do next. I holstered the gun, my eyes never leaving his body.
My pulse was steady now and my breathing was even. Killing him hadn’t been difficult but walking away from her might be.
“Let’s go,” I said, my voice hard.
I took her hand not gently this time. I needed to feel her in my grip, to know she was still here, still mine.
The club parted for us like the Red Sea, no one dared to meet my eyes.
By the time we stepped outside, the night air hit me like a shock, but it wasn’t enough to cool the fire in my veins. I got her into the car, shut the door, and didn’t say a word all the way back to the villa.
Not because I didn’t have anything to say but because I had too much to say, too much anger inside me so I decided to stay quiet.
If I opened my mouth now, I’d tell her everything. How I’d imagined walking into that booth a minute later finding her hurt or crying and how that image would have been enough to make me pull the trigger without hesitation.
How the thought of another man’s hands on her made me want to burn the whole city down.
But I couldn’t tell her that.
When we got back, I didn’t speak to Marco or Sofia. I didn’t even look at Raelyn. I went straight to our bedroom and shut the door so hard, enough to shake the frame.
I sat on the edge of the bed, with my elbows braced on my knees, staring at the floor. My hands were still tingling from the shot. My mind replayed the way she’d looked at me afterward it was relief, yes, but something else too...distance.
And I hated it.
I didn’t want her to see me as the man who could kill someone without blinking. But I also didn’t want her to ever forget that I would.
For her... I would do anything.
She knocked minutes later. I knew it was her before she spoke.
“Rafael? Please… can we talk?”
God! her voice. It was enough to make my chest ache.
But I couldn’t open the door, not when the taste of violence was still in my mouth. Not when I still wanted to go back and put another bullet in that man just for the way he’d looked at her.
So I said the only thing that would keep her away.
“Go away, Raelyn.”
The words were knives in my own throat. I heard her footsteps retreat, and I told myself it was for the best.
I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was silent, but my head wasn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face in that booth, I saw his hands on her... I heard the gunshot.
I didn’t regret it and I never would.
One thing I knew for certain was that whoever sent him, whoever thought they could get to her, had just signed their own death sentence.
Because Raelyn was mine and I don’t share.