Chapter 204

Cecilia’s pov

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Wait–what? You forced her out p>

Sebastian gave me a sideways glance, that infuriatingly charming half-smile tugging at his lips–the one that always made my heart do something reckless.

“Technically,” he said, “my mother asked her to leave p>

I blinked at him, stunned.

He reached over, one hand leaving the steering wheel to curl around my waist.

“Because,” he murmured, voice brushing over my skin like velvet, “she’s getting ready to welcome the woman who’ll stand at my side–for life p>

My breath caught.

For a split second, I couldn’t decide if I was elated or on the verge of cardiac arrest.

Then reality hit–not like a slap, but like a bucket of cold water on a winter day: jarring, unwelcome, and impossible to ignore.

Who was I kidding?

His mother would never accept me. Not really.

This wasn’t a fairy tale. I wasn’t what she pictured when she thought of her son’s mate. Not even close.

But still p>

He’d gone to war with his family for me.

The realization bloomed in my chest, thick and warm and impossible to ignore–like the first sip of bourbon: disarming, dangerous, and a little too good to last.

I should tell him not to get his hopes up.

Should warn him that just because someone smiles at you at dinner doesn’t mean they’ll stop sharpening knives in the kitchen.

But I couldn’t.

Not now. Not with his arm around me like that.

Not when he looked at me like I was the only truth in a world full of lies.

So I tucked my face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of sandalwood and something uniquely him–like forest smoke and midnight promises.

His fingers found my cheek, feather-light.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said softly. “I’ll lead the way for both of us p>

“Mmm.” The sound left me, muffled against his shirt.

Sebastian tilted my face up and kissed me–firm and full of conviction–cutting off my worries the way only he could: with fire and fearlessness.

Author

Deep in the night, a heavy transport truck thundered down the empty highway.

In the cargo hold, Cici White sat huddled against the cold metal wall, glaring at the four burly men surrounding her.

Escaped convicts and hired muscle, every last one of them–the kind of men who’d slit your throat for looking at them wrong.

They were passing around bottles of cheap whiskey, tearing into beef jerky with yellowed teeth. Their eyes kept sliding toward Cici, lingering longer each time.

“I need to call my aunt,” she demanded, trying to keep the fear from her voice as she pressed herself further against the wall.

When they’d first broken her out, she’d screamed about returning to Denver, about finding her Xavier, about making that bitch Cecilia and Dora pay. But these animals hadn’t listened. And now they were looking at her like wolves eyeing a wounded rabbit.

One of them–a brute with forearms thicker than her thighs–staggered to his feet and crouched in front of her.

His meaty hand clamped down on her leg, fingers digging into her flesh.

“Your aunt ain’t available right now, sweetheart,” he slurred, whiskey fumes washing over her face as he leaned in. “Best be nice to us p>

“Get away from me, you disgusting pig!” Cici shrieked, slapping him across his stubbled face.

In an instant, her head snapped back as he grabbed a fistful of her hair. The return slap was so hard she tasted copper, stars exploding behind her eyes as pain radiated through her skull.

Her prison uniform tore under rough hands, her screams echoing in the metal container.

Minutes or hours later–she couldn’t tell anymore–a phone rang. The man watching the assault answered it quickly.

“It’s the lady,” he announced, and her attacker cursed, pulling away reluctantly.

“Aunt Maggie!” she gasped, blood on her lip. “I–I’m not safe here. These men p>

“Cici,” Maggie’s voice flowed through the line, velvet-laced and sugar-smooth. “You’re fine. You’re just… uncomfortable. That’s very different p>

“They’re looking at me like–like–” Her voice cracked.

“They risked everything to break you out,” Maggie interrupted, tone still soothing, controlled. “You owe them your gratitude p>

“I want to come home,” Cici whispered. “I need to get back to Denver. Please p>

“I didn’t orchestrate your escape so you could throw yourself back into the fire,” Maggie said gently. “Everything has a purpose, darling. Even discomfort. Especially discomfort p>

Cici’s fingers clenched around the phone.

“I need you to be brave,” her aunt continued. “Adapt. Make connections. These men–rough as they are–might be your greatest allies, if you let them. Ferocity recognizes ferocity p>

“I don’t want to be alone with them p>

“You’re not alone,” Maggie said softly. “You’re being taught p>

A beat of silence.

Then: “That’s all for now. We’ll speak again soon p>

The line went dead.

Cici stared at the phone in her hand long after the screen went dark.

It was yanked away by calloused fingers.

The men said nothing. They just looked at her.

The kind of look predators gave something they were tired of hunting and ready to consume.

She pressed herself against the wall, trying not to shake.

She didn’t scream.

There was no point.

Only the sound of tires eating highway and the soft, mocking clink of a bottle being passed.

Cecilia’s pov

Morning light streamed through my bedroom windows when I finally woke.

I’d slept from eight last night until eight this morning–twelve solid hours without a single nightmare.

I wasn’t sure if it was pure exhaustion or the comfort of knowing Sebastian was under my roof, but I felt more rested than I had in months.

My skin practically glowed.

In the kitchen, I found my perfect man preparing breakfast, sleeves rolled up to reveal those forearms that could make a woman forget what day it was.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Sebastian said, handing me a glass of fresh juice. “You slept like a cat in a sunbeam p>

I raised an eyebrow. “A cat p>

He grinned. “Yeah. You stretch, you purr, you look all warm and smug. It’s deadly p>

A laugh escaped me. “Well, I don’t have time for midday naps. “

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to make my pulse stutter. “Then maybe you should keep an eye on me during mine. For safety. I feel… vulnerable when I nap p>

I took a slow sip of juice, refusing to rise to the bait. “Two people napping is even more dangerous. No one’s getting out of that unscathed p>

Before he could reply, I leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, grabbed my sandwich and juice, and slipped out of reach–just as he reached for my glass with a smirk.

The news of Amara’s departure spread through the office like wildfire.

You could practically hear the sound of the gossip mill grinding to life.

It wasn’t official yet, but by lunchtime, every assistant, intern, and middle manager within a three-floor radius knew she was leaving.

Only then did I fully believe what Sebastian had told me yesterday.

He really had sent her packing.

Lesson learned–disturb his nap, suffer the consequences.

Amara had tried to save face by announcing she’d decided to “pursue a sudden opportunity abroad”–not because of anyone’s influence, of course.

But everyone knew better.

The local grapevine was in overdrive, and the narrative was already locked in: she’d messed with the wrong man’s girlfriend.

I couldn’t help feeling pleased.

Even Beta Sawyer looked relieved–probably because he’d been bracing for a week-long drama fest during their upcoming business trip.

I swear he’d already stocked up on antacids and noise-canceling headphones.

Around four o’clock, I dropped by Sebastian’s office to request some time off.

“Our friend Yvonne invited Harper and me to a charity ball tonight,” I said. “I need about an hour to run home and change into something vaguely presentable p>

Sebastian looked up from his files. “A ball? Hosted by whom p>

“The invite’s with Yvonne,” I told him. “Someone named Dahlia. Apparently she’s a philanthropist, and Yvonne says it’s a whole lineup of Denver’s socialites and old-money types p>