Pampered By The Enemy Of My Ex

Alex POV:

War isn't romantic. It isn't cinematic. It is industrial. It is loud, it is messy, and it leaves the permanent taste of sulfur and copper on your tongue.

For weeks, I worked beside Daniel. I became his shadow. I guided his strikes against Gavyn's empire, dismantling the life I had helped build, brick by bloody brick.

We hurt him. Badly.

But a wounded animal bites back.

We were leaving a meeting at a warehouse near the docks. It was supposed to be a secure location, a sit-down with a neutral third party to secure shipping routes.

It was a trap.

The first shot didn't wait for introductions. It shattered the SUV's windshield before we could even reach the door.

"Down!" Daniel roared.

He threw his body over mine, shoving me onto the asphalt behind the engine block. Safety glass rained down on us like diamonds.

Bullets pinged off the metal in a rhythmic, deadly hail. Daniel pulled his gun, returning fire with a calm precision that was terrifying to watch.

"Stay here," he ordered.

He moved to flank the shooters. He was exposing himself to draw their fire away from me.

I watched him move. He was lethal. He was terrifyingly graceful.

But there was a shooter he didn't see. A shadow on the roof of the warehouse, the glint of a scope taking aim at Daniel's exposed back.

I didn't think. There was no calculation, no weighing of pros and cons.

I scrambled up.

"Daniel!" I screamed.

I lunged toward him, throwing myself into the space he had left open just as the rifle cracked.

The impact spun me around. It felt like someone had swung a sledgehammer into my shoulder.

I hit the ground hard. The sky spun in a dizzying grey blur above me.

"Alex!"

The roar was inhuman.

Daniel was there in an instant. He dropped to his knees, his face pale, his eyes wide with a terror I had never seen in him before.

He pressed his hands against my shoulder. The blood was hot and sticky. It was soaking through my blouse, coating his fingers in crimson.

"You idiot," he growled, but his voice was shaking. "You stupid, brave idiot."

He scooped me up in his arms. He didn't care about the shooters anymore. His men had swarmed the area, neutralizing the threat.

"Get the car!" he screamed at his driver. "Now!"

The pain was a white-hot fire, consuming my shoulder, my chest, my mind. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision like spilled ink.

"Stay with me, Alex," Daniel commanded. He was rocking me slightly. "Look at me."

I looked up at him. His hard features were twisted in agony.

"I'm okay," I whispered, though I definitely wasn't.

"Why?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Why did you do that?"

"Because," I breathed, my eyelids fluttering shut. "You're the only one who ever saw me."

I woke up in a hospital bed inside the estate. The room was dim.

Daniel was sitting in a chair next to the bed. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His shirt was rumpled, and there was dried blood on his cuffs. My blood.

"You're awake," he said. His voice was rough, like gravel.

I tried to sit up, but pain flared hot and sharp. I hissed.

"Don't move," he said instantly, standing up to adjust my pillows. "The bullet went through. Broken clavicle, tissue damage. But you're alive."

He sat on the edge of the bed. He looked at me with an intensity that made my heart race faster than the pain.

"I almost lost you," he said quietly.

He took my hand. He brought it to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

In that quiet room, I realized the lie about the baby wasn't the only thing binding us anymore. Maybe it never had been.

"I love you, Alex," he said.

The words hung in the air. Simple. Heavy. True.

I looked at this dangerous man, this killer who had stayed by my side while I bled.

"I love you too," I whispered.

He leaned down and kissed me. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was desperate, possessive, a claim on my soul.

When he pulled back, his eyes were cold steel.

"Gavyn pays for this," he vowed, his voice low. "He pays with everything."