Chapter 8
Nora looked up, her clear, expressive eyes meeting his. She was trembling slightly, the adrenaline of the confrontation slowly ebbing away to leave her exhausted.
"I am fine, Mr. Hart," Nora whispered. "I'm just sorry to have ruined the reception."
"You did not ruin anything," Alaric corrected her gently. He reached out with his artistically tattooed hand and softly wiped a tear from Lucy's rosy cheek. "You saved my life. And you protected my daughter. That is a debt I do not take lightly."
He stood back up, towering over the guests who were still frozen in shock around the room.
"The reception is over," Alaric announced to the crowd, his voice projecting easily across the grand salon. "You will all return to your homes. Do not speak of what happened here tonight outside these walls. If the rival families hear of this weakness before I am ready, I will know exactly who in this room leaked the information."
The guests practically scrambled toward the exits, eager to escape the blast radius of the mafia boss's wrath. Within two minutes, the opulent ballroom was entirely empty, save for Alaric, Nora, Lucy, and a handful of elite guards standing silently by the doors.
Alaric turned back to Nora, offering her his hand. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing her small hand in his. He pulled her gently to her feet, his grip warm and remarkably careful.
"Take Lucy up to the secure wing," Alaric instructed, his gaze lingering on her delicate features. "Lock the doors. Do not let anyone in unless it is Silas or myself."
"What is going to happen, sir?" Nora asked, holding Lucy tightly against her hip.
"Vivian did not act alone," Alaric stated, his angular jaw tightening. "Her family will have positioned men outside the estate, waiting for the signal that I was dead. When that signal doesn't come, they will breach the gates."
Nora’s breath hitched. "They are going to attack the house?"
"They are going to try," Alaric said, a dark, dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "Go. Keep her safe."
Nora nodded, turning quickly and hurrying up the sweeping grand staircase. She didn't look back as she carried the toddler toward the heavily fortified safe rooms on the third floor.
May you like
Alaric watched her go, a profound sense of gratitude and something much deeper stirring in his chest. But he pushed the emotion aside. He had a war to win.
"Silas!" Alaric barked, striding toward the weapons cache hidden behind the study walls. "Arm the men. Blackout protocols."
