The torrential rain hammered against the reinforced roof of the Maybach, but inside, the air was entirely frozen.
Elara peered over Alexander's broad shoulder. The woman standing in the center of the road didn't look like a heavily armed mercenary. She looked like a runway model. Her stark white trench coat was pristine, contrasting sharply with the crimson umbrella she held lazily over her shoulder.
"Alexander," Elara whispered, the adrenaline from the drawing-room completely replaced by a cold, primal instinct. "Who is she?"
Alexander didn't answer immediately. He was staring at the woman with an expression Elara had never seen on him before. It wasn't fear. It was absolute, unadulterated murder.
"Seraphina," Alexander finally breathed, the name sounding like a curse on his lips.
He reached under the seat, pulling out a matte-black Glock. The metallic click of him chambering a round was deafening in the quiet car.
"Boss," Liam's voice crackled over the intercom, flat and professional despite the dozen assault rifles pointed at their windshield. "We have reinforced plating, but those are armor-piercing rounds. If we sit here, they will eventually breach the glass. Orders?"
Before Alexander could reply, the woman in white walked slowly toward the Maybach.
Her heels clicked against the wet asphalt. She stopped right outside Alexander's window. Up close, Elara could see her face. She was stunning, with sharp cheekbones and lips painted the exact same color as her umbrella.
Seraphina smiled, raising a gloved hand to tap lightly against the bulletproof glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap. "Roll it down an inch," Alexander ordered Liam.
"Alexander, don't," Elara gripped his arm, her heart in her throat.
"She won't shoot," Alexander said, his eyes locked onto the woman outside. "Not yet. She's a theatrical psychopath. She wants to talk."
The window slid down exactly one inch. The smell of rain and exhaust instantly flooded the car.
"Lex," Seraphina purred, her voice carrying a thick, aristocratic European accent. She leaned down, peering through the crack. "You look well. The city suits you. Though I must admit, I was hurt when my invitation to the wedding was lost in the mail."
"You died in Prague, Seraphina," Alexander said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion.
"I burned in Prague," she corrected, her smile dropping slightly, revealing a flash of genuine madness. "It took three years of reconstructive surgeries for me to look in a mirror without screaming. You took my father's syndicate. You took my face. And now..."
Her icy blue eyes flicked past Alexander, locking directly onto Elara.
"...you've taken a wife."
A cold shiver raced down Elara's spine. The way Seraphina looked at her wasn't just jealous; it was evaluating. Like a butcher looking at a prime cut of meat.
Alexander's massive frame immediately shifted, completely blocking Elara from Seraphina's view.
"If you came to kill me, you should have brought a bigger army," Alexander sneered.
"Oh, Lex. I didn't come to kill you," Seraphina laughed softly, standing back up and twirling her crimson umbrella. "I came to take everything you love, piece by piece, until you beg me to put a bullet in your head."
She took two steps back and casually waved her hand at the mercenaries surrounding the car.
"Light them up."
"Liam, punch it!" Alexander roared, throwing himself completely over Elara, shielding her body with his own as the world erupted into chaos.
The sound was deafening. Sparks flew as dozens of heavy-caliber bullets slammed against the reinforced chassis of the Maybach. The bulletproof glass cracked, spider-webbing under the immense pressure, but it held.
Liam didn't hesitate. He slammed his foot on the gas.
The three-ton armored vehicle roared like a beast. Instead of trying to reverse, Liam drove straight forward, ramming directly into the lead SUV blocking their path.
The impact threw Elara violently against the leather seats, but Alexander's iron grip kept her perfectly secure. The Maybach plowed through the barricade, shattering the SUV's axle and shoving it out of the way with a screech of tearing metal.
They tore down the access road, leaving the mercenaries in the rearview mirror.
For five minutes, no one spoke. The only sound was the heavy rain and the roaring engine.
Elara dragged herself upright, her chest heaving. She looked at Alexander. He was scanning the perimeter through the cracked windows, his gun still drawn, his jaw clenched so tight it looked carved from stone.
"Are you hurt?" Alexander asked, his voice rough. He turned to her, his large hands frantically checking her shoulders, her arms, looking for any trace of blood.
"I'm fine," Elara breathed, catching his hands. "I'm fine, Alexander. Who was that?"
Alexander let out a harsh breath, leaning back against the seat. He dragged a hand through his dark hair, the adrenaline slowly beginning to ebb.
"Five years ago, before I took over the Cross family, I spent two years in Europe cleaning up my grandfather's black-market messes," Alexander explained, his voice grim. "Seraphina's father ran the largest illegal arms syndicate in Prague. He tried to double-cross me. I wiped them out. I set their compound on fire."
Elara swallowed hard. She had always known Alexander was dangerous. She knew he operated above the law. But hearing him casually admit to eradicating an entire syndicate was a stark reminder of the monster she had married.
"She survived," Elara said quietly.
"And she tracked me here," Alexander muttered, his eyes darkening with absolute fury. "She knows I have you."
"Boss," Liam interrupted from the front. "We can't go to the penthouse. Protocol dictates we move to a secure blackout location until the threat is neutralized."
"Do it," Alexander agreed.
He turned back to Elara. The terrifying predator from the shootout softened slightly as he looked at her pale face. He reached out, pulling her into his chest.
"I'm sorry," Alexander whispered against her hair, his arms wrapping tightly around her. "I brought you into my war."
Elara rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the frantic, heavy beating of his heart. In her past life, she would have crumbled. She would have begged to be let out of the car.
But as she sat in the bullet-riddled Maybach, Elara didn't feel the urge to run. Seraphina wanted to play games with her life? With the husband she had chosen to protect her?
Elara pulled back slightly, looking up into Alexander's eyes.
"You didn't bring me into your war, Alexander," Elara said, her voice entirely steady. "We are married. Which means your enemies are my enemies."
A slow, devastating smirk touched Alexander's lips. The raw, unfiltered possessiveness in his eyes flared back to life.
"Then we will hunt the ghost together, Mrs. Cross," he promised darkly.