Chapter 494
It was late. The kind of quiet that settles in deep, when the world outside slows down and the night feels endless. Charlotte lay curled up under the covers, her lips soft and pink, her eyes squeezed shut. She looked peaceful, but her sleep was anything but. Her hands clung to Anthony’s, holding on like she was afraid to let go. Anthony sat right beside her, watching her with a tenderness that made his chest ache. He’d always known she didn’t sleep well, but he’d never realized the real reason. It wasn’t just bad dreams. She was haunted by things that ran much deeper, scars left by things she’d never deserved.
Every sleepless night, every time she wandered the halls in her sleep, it was another sign of what she’d been through. The pain she carried was invisible, but it was there all the same.
He leaned closer, brushing a finger over her cheek, so gentle it was barely a touch. “Lottie, I swear, I’ll keep you safe from now on. No one’s ever going to hurt you again.” The promise hung in the air, heavy and real. He wished he could take all of her pain and make it his own. Whatever she’d lost, he’d find a way to give back. Whoever had hurt her, he’d make sure they regretted it.
His phone buzzed, breaking the moment. Anthony glanced at the screen, then carefully slipped his hand from hers, not wanting to wake her.
The sudden emptiness made Charlotte frown, even in her sleep.
He bent down, pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, and whispered against her hair, “I’m right here. Just need to handle something. I’ll be back before you know it, okay?” He stroked her hair, gentle and reassuring.
She relaxed, her breath evening out as she drifted back into a deeper sleep. Anthony gave a small, helpless smile. “So easy to soothe,” he whispered, then slipped out of the room, his footsteps barely making a sound.
Outside, the night was cold. Wind rattled the trees, and the sky was as dark as his mood. At the shooting range a short walk away, Hans stood waiting, flanked by a line of men, all of them stiff and silent.
“Anthony.” Hans’s voice was quiet, respectful.
“Where is he?” Anthony didn’t waste words. Dressed in a black trench coat, his shirt open at the collar, he looked every bit as dangerous as the umors. His eyes were icy his expression carved from stone.
“In the basement,” Hans answered, shivering even though he tried to hide it.
Jesse had been dragged straight to the villa the moment he arrived in Cabinda. No one had expected Anthony to show up in the middle of the night, not willing to wait even a few hours.
Anthony said nothing else, just headed for the basement, his face unreadable.
Two minutes later, the basement door slammed open. The echo bounced off the bare concrete walls.
Jesse, sprawled on the floor, tried to
lift his head. He saw a pair of polished black shoes, then black pants stretched over long legs, and finally, Anthony’s face, cold and unforgiving.
That stare hit Jesse like a punch. His heart dropped. A chill raced up his spine.
He knew that face. That was Anthony. The Anthony. CEO of The Blair Group.
Jesse twisted, feeling the ropes
digging into his wrists and ankles.
Panic flooded him. He was sure he’d
never had any run-in with the Blair family He’d never even spoken to t
Anthony before. Why was he here?
“Anthony His voice cracked. He tried to sound respectful, desperate. “There must
be some mistake. I don’t understand, why—”
A boot caught him in the gut before he could finish. He doubled over, blood in his mouth.
“Did Anthony say you could talk?” Hans’s voice was ice. He glared down at Jesse. “Say one more word and I’ll cut out your tongue.”