Adele's POV
I lifted the glass to my lips and let the liquid linger there for a moment longer than necessary, savoring the faint bitterness and heat as it slid down my throat, grounding me in the present while the club's music pulsed around us like a living thing, a rhythmic heartbeat that seemed to seep into my bones and stir something ancient beneath my skin.
"I'm already working on your apartment," I told Damien calmly, my voice steady despite the long week of continuous work etched into my muscles and the faint ache behind my eyes. "It won't take long before everything is finished."
Across from me, Daniel—Duke of Monaco, feared ruler of his territory—slowly rotated the ice in his scotch, the amber liquid catching the dim lights as his gaze remained fixed on the glass, thoughtful and unhurried, as though time itself bent a little in his presence. "There is no rush," he replied evenly. "I strongly believe that perfection should never be hurried."
A small smile curved my lips at his response. "My name is my promise itself, Damien. I don't miss deadlines."
That earned a quiet chuckle from him, low and warm, entirely at odds with the reputation that followed him like a shadow. "Hardworking," he said. "Focused. Talented. I like that––it's rare."
Conversation with him flowed far too easily, as if we had known one another far longer than a handful of meetings warranted, and I found myself oddly relaxed beneath his sharp gaze. There was power in him—no denying that—but it wasn't the suffocating, crushing dominance I had once known. It was contained, disciplined, like a wolf who ruled because he could, not because he needed to prove it.
Then his phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen, expression tightening almost imperceptibly, before rising to his feet. "Excuse me," he said, finishing his drink in one controlled swallow. "Enjoy the evening. If you need anything, you have my number."
Lea nearly bowed. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Damien nodded politely, then turned back to me, his dark eyes lingering just a second longer than propriety demanded, as though memorizing my face. "I'll see you soon," he said softly. "Fleur."
The moment he disappeared into the crowd, Lea and I sagged back into the sofa, exhaling as though we'd both been holding our breath.
"Moon Goddess almighty," she muttered. "That man could intimidate a room into silence. I was so nervous, I barely tasted my drink."
I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "I didn't find him that intimidating."
Her head snapped toward me. "Oh? Should I warn Raphael Dumas that he has competition from a duke who could tear a man in half with his bare hands?"
"Lea," I groaned, laughing despite myself.
She leaned closer, squinting at me. "You're drunk already."
"Then we should go home."
"Absolutely not. My boss is a tyrant, and tonight is the only night I get before she works me into the grave."
She dragged me onto the dance floor before I could argue, and for a while, I let the music swallow me whole. We danced until sweat clung to our skin and laughter replaced thought, until I almost forgot what it felt like to be hunted.
Almost.
Outside, the night was cooler, quieter, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement as I stared down at my phone, watching yet another ride request fail.
"No cabs," I muttered.
Lea groaned. "Great. We're drunk and stranded. What should we do now? Call Damien?" she then suggested, wiggling her brows.
"No," I said instantly. "He's a client."
"And a heartthrob."
"And dangerous."
We started walking, heels clicking softly against the empty road.
Then the air changed.
Engines growled low and synchronized as four black SUVs appeared from nowhere, boxing us in with terrifying precision, headlights slicing through the dark like predatory eyes.
My blood froze.
Men dressed in black stepped out, movements sharp and deliberate, the kind of coordination that screamed experience—and violence.
The past slammed into me without mercy.
Six years ago. Different city. Same terror.
I moved without thinking, pulling Lea behind me as my heart hammered wildly against my ribs.
"Move," I demanded, my voice shaking despite my effort. "Let us pass."
One of them shoved me back hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs. "Fleur Swann," he said coldly. "You're coming with us."
Rage flared through me like a lightning bolt, bright and desperate. "You don't give me orders."
He laughed. "Right now, I do. Be a good girl and obey."
"What do you want?" I spat.
"Your body for now."
The words echoed louder than the cocking of their guns.
My mind fractured into a thousand thoughts at once—Chloe's laughter, Gabriel's stubborn scowl, the promise I had made to protect them at all costs.
Caden.
Hatred burned so hot it hurt.
"Wait," I said quickly, panic clawing up my throat. "I'll pay you. Just tell me who sent you."
They exchanged amused looks.
"We don't need your money, puppy. All we need is to finish the job. And we never fail a job," the leader said, raising his gun. "Ready to die?"
Lea sobbed behind me. "Fleur... what's going on?"
I closed my eyes.
Then the night itself seemed to bow.
"Put the gun down."
The voice was cold, lethal, and threaded with a dominance so absolute it made the air vibrate, thick with the unmistakable weight of an Alpha's command.
"Take one more step toward her," the voice continued, low and furious beneath its snapping restraint, "and I will personally tear your throats out before you can blink."
My heart stuttered.
Every instinct in my body screamed the same name.
My Alpha had found me yet again.