Chapter 7
The sharp, sterile smell of antiseptic mingled with the fragrance of the white roses as Dr. Evans finished wrapping a clean, secure bandage around Mina’s forearm. The bright, elegant warmth of the chandeliers caught the sheen of the fresh white gauze.
"There you are, Miss Hartwell," Dr. Evans said, packing his instruments back into his black leather bag. "Keep it dry for two days, and let me know if the throbbing worsens."
"Thank you, Doctor," Mina replied, rolling the crisp white cuff of her maid dress carefully over the bandage.
"Will you ensure she is provided with the necessary antibiotics?" Cyrus asked, standing near the head of the table.
"Already dispensed, Mr. Langford. I left the bottle on the console," Dr. Evans nodded respectfully before making a quick, quiet exit from the grand dining hall.
The heavy walnut doors clicked shut, leaving the four of them alone once more. The room was profoundly quiet, the earlier chaos of the engagement dinner completely erased.
"Does the pain feel manageable, Mina?" Cyrus asked, his deep voice carrying a soothing, low resonance.
"It feels much better, sir. Thank you," Mina said, standing up from the champagne velvet chair. Her slender figure maintained its graceful posture, though her expressive brows betrayed her deep exhaustion.
"Are you prepared to move to the secure wing for the night?" Cyrus asked.
Mina blinked, her softly heart-shaped face registering immediate confusion. "The secure wing, sir? But the staff quarters are in the east building."
"Do you believe the east building will be safe when Victor Sloane's men come looking for retaliation?" Cyrus asked.
Mina gasped, her fair skin paling instantly. The reality of the Mafia war crashed down upon her. "They are coming here? Tonight?"
"Would a man like Victor allow an insult to fester until morning?" Cyrus asked, his cold, perceptive eyes locking onto hers. "Do you think I would let you walk out into a war zone after you protected my son?"
"Mr. Langford, I should leave the estate," Mina urged, panic lacing her voice. "If I am not here, they have no reason to attack your home. I am the cause of this."
"Did you force Evelyn to strike you, or did she choose to act like a monster?" Cyrus asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. His polished leather shoes clicked against the marble. "Is my protection something you believe you can simply decline?"
"I don't want anyone to die because of me," Mina whispered, tears returning to her beautiful eyes.
"Has any man who died by my orders not earned his fate?" Cyrus asked. He stopped just inches away from her. The imposing, masculine perfection of his face was striking up close. He reached out, his hand hovering for a fraction of a second before his long, tattooed fingers gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Will you trust me to keep you safe?" Cyrus asked softly.
Mina’s breath hitched in her throat. The touch was electric, a spark of unexpected intimacy in the vast, luminous room. She looked into his eyes and saw no fear, only an absolute, unshakeable certainty.
"I trust you," Mina breathed.
"Will you take Finn and Atlas and follow Marcus to the bunker?" Cyrus asked, turning his head slightly as his head of security entered the room.
Marcus, a broad-shouldered man in tactical gear, nodded grimly. "We are ready, Boss. Perimeter alarms have already detected movement in the southern tree line."
"Papa, are you coming with us?" Finn asked, tugging on his father's tailored dark trousers.
"Must I not stay and greet our uninvited guests?" Cyrus asked, crouching down to kiss the top of his son's head. "Will you be a brave boy and look after Mina for me?"
"Yes, Papa," Finn promised.
May you like
"Go," Cyrus commanded gently.
Mina took Finn’s hand, Atlas trotting faithfully beside them, and followed Marcus out of the dining room. As the heavy doors closed, Mina looked back over her shoulder. Cyrus Langford stood alone under the cascading crystal chandeliers, a dark, solitary king preparing to burn the world down to protect the people he had just realized he loved.
