The Marshal Unleashed at Midnight

Chapter 009

As far as Camille was concerned, Adrian was nothing but a spineless pushover, utterly incapable of fighting back.

In five years she had never once seen him raise a hand against anyone. Even when he got the short end, he played peacemaker.

The thugs closed in step by step, boots scraping the pavement. Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling down her cheeks.

None of them knew that the man in front of them was a beast leashed only by the Five-Year Compact.

Adrian drew a slow breath, and the next moment he slipped into the knot of men like a shadow.

Nobody could follow him. What followed was the dull smack of fists on flesh and ragged howls. Less than ten seconds later, Adrian was the only one still standing.

"Natalie, it's over. You can open your eyes."

He straightened his collar, his voice calm, almost offhand.

Natalie obeyed, and the instant her eyes opened she gasped.

Beside her, Camille had gone pale, her mouth hanging open.

"That... that's not possible."

The men who had come to wreck the steel mill outnumbered Adrian several times over, and every one of them was built like a truck. There was no way the spineless husband she knew should have been able to flatten them in seconds without a scratch.

Was this really the same man she'd known for five years?

And if he'd always had this kind of strength hidden away, why had he swallowed so much for so long?

Something tightened in Camille's chest, and only now did she grasp how deep Adrian's old feelings for her must have run.

If he hadn't held back, one slap from him could have put her in a hospital bed for weeks.

And yet through every tantrum, every humiliation, every cruelty he had endured it without complaint, until today.

A flicker of regret stirred in her. Camille let out a quiet breath.

"Who laid a hand on my mother-in-law?"

Adrian swept a cold glance over the scene, picked up a knife one of them had dropped, and tossed it at their feet. "Pick a hand. Cut it off yourself."

Lorraine stared at him, eyes brimming.

Not even her own husband, Gordon, had ever shielded her like this.

And the man doing it was the same son-in-law she had been belittling minutes earlier.

"Adrian, I'm warning you, don't try anything." Camille steadied herself, forcing her voice level. The men on the ground were trembling, and she needed to regain the upper hand. "We live in a society with laws. Natalie's mill owes me money it can't pay, and I have every right to come collect what's mine. I'll tell you this right now: if the debt isn't settled in full by the end of today, you can all start getting used to a jail cell."

At the mention of the debt, the worry flooded straight back into Natalie's and Lorraine's faces.

Adrian might be deadly with his fists, but fists could not solve this. He had no connections, no leverage, nothing that could make the debt disappear. All that violence would only land him in court on assault charges.

"Who said we can't come up with the money?"

Adrian met her eyes without blinking. A short, mocking laugh escaped him as he set down the box he had carried out of Sterling's office. "The only question is whether I'm willing to hand it over, and whether you've got the nerve to take it. I hear Roarke Construction is dead set on ending our partnership. Go ahead, stay stubborn about it. Just don't come crawling back to beg us later, because by then it'll be too late."

"You think we'd regret it? Ha ha. Not likely."

Camille nearly laughed in his face. "Adrian, why on earth would we regret anything? Goldhaven has steel mills on every corner. You think we can't replace yours? And what's even in that box? Don't tell me it's cash. I'm not buying that a broke nobody who begrudged fifty thousand can suddenly scrape together more than a hundred thousand in payments..."

Her phone rang. Camille glanced at the screen, saw it was Jordan Reyes, her project manager, and answered. "Jordan, what is it?"

"Camille, where are you? The Hale family just sent the company a letter from their lawyers out of nowhere, claiming our project is behind schedule. If we can't complete the handover today, they're threatening to sue us!"

Jordan was shouting through the phone. "Whatever you're doing, drop it. Get me a shipment of steel, right now. Any later and we're finished."

"Don't worry, I'm on it."

She hung up and tore through her contacts.

"Marco, it's urgent, we need steel fast. Do you have stock?" A pause. "What do you mean bought out? When did that happen?"

She dialed the next number. "Jack, I need a shipment, and I can make the price worth your while." Another pause, her knuckles whitening. "Your mill got bought out too? You can't supply Roarke Construction anymore? This has to be a joke."

Call after call, each one left her grimmer than the last.

Every supplier she could reach, every contact built over years, had been swallowed by the same buyer overnight.

Worse, she had no idea who the buyer was. Every supplier gave the same answer: the acquisition had gone through a middleman, and nobody had ever seen a face.

This was bad. Something about that quiet, faceless efficiency made her stomach twist.

The company needed steel and there was nowhere left to get it. Sweat broke out across her forehead.

Her phone buzzed again. It was Jordan.

"Camille, why isn't this handled yet?!"

"Jordan, there's a situation, let me explain."

"I don't care what the situation is!" He did not give her an inch. "The Hale family is pushing for answers. Do you want to watch this company go under? If this falls apart, you answer for it."

The line went dead. She stood there, phone still at her ear, face drained of color.

Desperation sharpened her mind. She spun toward Natalie. "Has your family's mill been bought out too?"

"No," Natalie said, shaking her head.

"Then sell me steel, right now. I need it fast."

The relief that washed over Camille was immediate, and with it came the return of her old arrogance, that familiar tilt of her chin. She let out a short laugh. "Well, looks like luck is on your side today. Roarke Construction has decided to keep working with you after all."

"Really?" Natalie's face lit up. This was the lifeline she had not dared to expect.

But before she could even nod in agreement, Adrian's voice cut through the moment, dry and mocking. "Don't celebrate yet. I already told you the terms. If you want to keep working with us, you'll have to beg. On your knees."

Both women went still, something clicking into place.

Minutes ago they had dismissed his threat as empty bluster. But now every mill in the city had been bought out, every one refusing to deal with Roarke Construction. That could not be coincidence.

Could Adrian actually be behind this?

"Beg you? Keep dreaming." Camille shook her head, dismissing the thought as fast as it came.

Adrian was nobody, a man who had spent five years as her husband without amounting to anything. There was no way he had that kind of reach.

Settled on that, she smiled coldly. "Let's be clear about who's actually in trouble here. You owe money you can't pay. You have two options: supply the steel right now, or go to prison. I think you already know which one makes sense."

"Enough talk." Adrian gave the box at his feet a light kick. "Open it."

"Fine," Camille said, rolling her eyes and flipping back the lid.

Then she froze.

The box was packed edge to edge with cash, bills stacked in neat rows.

There was far more than a hundred thousand here.

"That should cover it," Adrian said, looking at her with open distaste. "Take it and get out of my sight."

"Adrian, where did you even get this?" All the hostility in her voice evaporated. She actually smiled at him. "This is impressive. Four or five hundred thousand, at least?"

Adrian said nothing, his expression flat.

He watched her eyes change the instant she saw the money, the oily shift into something like flattery, and wondered whether she was hoping this was his way of asking her back.