Chapter 10
The blaring shriek of the estate’s security alarms shattered the tranquil, luminous warmth of the mansion. The bright, airy lights in the study instantly switched to a pulsing, urgent red emergency glow. The sudden shift painted the ivory-paneled walls and gilded mirrors in the color of blood.
Rowan did not flinch. His movie-star handsome face hardened into a mask of pure, predatory stone. The extremely short stubble on his jawline seemed to bristle with anticipated violence. He drew a heavy, customized automatic weapon from his shoulder holster with fluid, lethal grace.
"Are my tactical teams engaging the hostiles?" Rowan asked, his deep voice slicing through the chaotic wail of the sirens with absolute calm.
"They are laying down suppressing fire, Boss!" Silas reported, stepping fully into the room and checking his own weapon. "But Marcus Sloane brought heavy armor. They are trying to push through the courtyard toward the main entrance!"
"Do they believe reinforced steel and glass will yield to desperation?" Rowan asked.
He turned his broad, powerful shoulders back to Mila. She stood frozen in her elegant blue dress, the heavy gold signet ring gleaming on her finger in the red strobe light. Her expressive brows were drawn together in terror, but she did not scream or run. She stood her ground, watching the father she had just found transform into a warlord.
"Will you follow Silas to the secure bunker beneath the east wing?" Rowan asked, stepping closer and placing his free, tattooed hand firmly on her shoulder.
"Are you coming with us?" Mila asked, her voice trembling slightly over the distant, muffled thump-thump-thump of automatic gunfire echoing from the front lawns.
"Must a king not stand at the gates to greet his uninvited guests?" Rowan asked, offering a faint, terrifying smile that did not reach his cold, perceptive eyes.
"Please be careful," Mila whispered, reaching up to quickly press her hand against his chest.
"Do you think I would let them take me away from you now that I have finally found you?" Rowan asked softly.
He pulled away, his imposing masculine frame moving with extreme, calculated speed toward the door.
"Silas. Will you ensure she is safe with your life?" Rowan asked his underboss.
"With my life, Mr. Ashford," Silas promised, gesturing for Mila to follow him toward the hidden staircase at the back of the study.
Rowan did not look back. He strode out of the study and into the grand marble hallway. The mansion was a chaotic symphony of shouting guards and shattering glass, but Rowan walked through it with the terrifying serenity of a man who controlled the storm.
He reached the top of the grand sweeping staircase overlooking the main foyer. Below him, the massive, reinforced mahogany front doors shuddered violently under the impact of heavy ballistics. His men were taking cover behind overturned velvet chairs and marble columns, returning fire through the shattered, cascading windows.
Rowan racked the slide of his weapon, the metallic clack cutting clearly through the noise. He looked down at the breaching doors, his eyes cold, calculating, and completely devoid of mercy.
The engagement dinner had ended in a broken alliance, but the true war for the city had only just begun. Marcus Sloane thought he was attacking a disgraced fiancé; he was about to discover he had awakened a monster protecting his only child.
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"Shall we show them exactly what it costs to threaten my blood?" Rowan asked the empty air.
He raised his weapon, stepping into the line of fire, ready to burn the world to ash to protect the daughter he had just reclaimed.
