Chapter 31
"You are finished," Ethan murmured, signaling to his men. "My men will escort you to the holding cells. If you ever attempt to speak my name again, you will not live long enough to see the sunrise."
Marcus and Silas dragged the broken mercenaries out of the hall, hauling them toward the subterranean service exits to avoid the elite guests above. The hall fell into a heavy, ringing silence.
Ethan stood alone for a moment, the violent tension bleeding out of his broad shoulders. He wiped a small drop of blood from his knuckles with a crisp white handkerchief. The heavy wooden doors opened softly, and Claire stepped into the corridor. She looked at the blood on the stones and then at her husband, her beautiful face reflecting absolute calm.
"Is the threat contained, Ethan?" she asked, a dark, brilliant smile touching her lips.
"The immediate threat is neutralized," Ethan replied, walking across the room to meet her. He tossed the handkerchief aside, the cold, sociopathic mask melting entirely as he looked at his wife. "But I must travel to the industrial district tonight. To ensure the finality of our peace."
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"You handled them quickly," Claire noted, reaching out to gently trace the artistic tattoos on his hands.
"They were blunt instruments," Ethan murmured, pulling her securely against his chest. "I will annihilate anyone who attempts to cast a shadow over your light."
