The three men who had initially kidnapped Cynthia now stared at Antonio with a mixture of anger and disbelief, their earlier confidence draining from their faces. Only moments ago, they had believed themselves clever—brilliant, even. They had convinced themselves they had finally cornered the Morris family’s most valuable asset. They had planned every step carefully, lured her into a trap, restrained her, and taken from her the documents they believed would secure their future. With them, the men thought they held power.But now, as they faced Antonio, the reality was unmistakable. None of their efforts had been enough.Antonio stood between them and Cynthia like an immovable wall. His grip on the last man was firm but controlled, his fingers locked around the man’s collar with a pressure that promised pain without unnecessary brutality. Every movement Antonio made was precise, economical, and terrifyingly effective. There was no wasted energy, no panic, or hesitation. The documents w

“Stop!” Kent growled, his voice slicing through the stillness of the road like a blade. “Don’t you dare take her along! Release Cynthia, and drop the documents, or you’ll pay for this!”The air seemed to tighten around them. The fading sunlight stretched their shadows long across the asphalt, freezing the moment in tense silence. Antonio didn’t flinch. He didn’t even raise his voice. His gaze locked onto Kent’s—cool, steady, and unreadable—and then he chuckled softly, as though Kent’s outburst was little more than background noise.“Fool,” Antonio said calmly, shaking his head. “Still overestimating yourself, I see. Do yourself a favor and step aside. You’re about to find out why that’s a dangerous game.”Kent’s lips curled into a vicious snarl. His chest rose and fell rapidly, fury burning hot in his eyes. “Dangerous?” he snapped. “Don’t you threaten me! I’m not some ordinary man you can shove aside. I’ve prepared for this. I know your every move. And yet you think you can drive off

The sun had barely risen over Gelrith, painting the city in soft shades of gold and amber, yet the atmosphere at the wedding venue was already alive with anticipation. Light streamed through the tall glass windows of the grand hall, reflecting off polished marble floors and rows of white chairs carefully arranged for the ceremony. Floral arrangements lined the aisle—ivory roses, pale lilies, and greenery woven together in elegant arcs. It should have been a peaceful morning, a perfect beginning.At the altar, Antonio and Cynthia stood facing one another, hands clasped tightly, their fingers interlocked as though letting go might shatter the moment. Their eyes were fixed on each other, everything else fading into the background. The past weeks had been relentless—kidnappings, threats, attempts to steal Cynthia away, and the desperate struggle over the Morris documents—but they had survived all of it. They were still standing. Still choosing each other.Today was theirs.Family and frie

Cynthia’s heart was pounding violently in her chest, each beat echoing louder than the last. The wedding hall remained a broken shell of what it had been moments before—overturned chairs, shattered glass glittering like jagged ice across the floor, torn flowers crushed under hurried footsteps. The echoes of gunfire and screaming still rang in the air, lingering like a curse that refused to fade. But none of that mattered to her anymore. Not the chaos. Not the stunned guests. Not the blood staining the marble tiles.Antonio lay on the polished floor, utterly still.Blood had matted parts of his clothing, dark and spreading, and his eyes were closed. Too closed. His chest did not rise. His body, which had moved with impossible speed and strength just moments ago, now looked frighteningly fragile. The sight hit Cynthia like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs.Her feet moved before her mind could catch up. She ran to him, pushing through the crowd as if they were nothing

The grand wedding hall, once alive with music, laughter, and the soft murmurs of admiration, had been reduced to a shattered monument of devastation. Torn silk draped limply from the walls, riddled with bullet holes. Tables lay overturned like fallen beasts, their polished surfaces cracked and stained. Chairs were splintered beyond recognition, scattered across the marble floor as if flung aside by some invisible force. The pungent smell of gunpowder hung heavily in the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood until breathing itself felt like an effort.Bodies lay sprawled in unnatural positions, frozen in the aftermath of terror. Some were guests who had only moments earlier been smiling, clapping, celebrating love. Now they were motionless, eyes staring blankly at a ceiling that no longer mattered. A few survivors had managed to flee during the chaos, escaping through shattered doors and broken windows, their screams fading into the distance. Their absence only deepened the si