ALLURA'S POV
After the confrontation, I drove straight to my parents' gravesite. I wore a new, understated dress and a wide-brimmed hat that completely shadowed my face, making me feel blessedly unrecognizable. I knew Xavier's guards were watching my every move—it was a soft, peripheral awareness now, one I no longer panicked over. I had far too much to say to my parents to worry about a few hired eyes.
The cemetery was hushed. The silence was so profound I felt as though I could hear the distant rustle of a jacket or the light thump of a fallen leaf. I sat on the grass beside their headstones, my voice low but steady. I narrated my suffering, confessing that they had been right about Magnus all along, and that I had failed them by not listening.
"But I haven't failed yet," I whispered, resting my hand on the cold marble. "I am backed by someone powerful, someone with his own sworn enemies. He is going to do everything in his power to help me, just as I plan to help him."
The thought of my imminent wedding, just five days away, brought a tremor to my voice. "I'm scared," I admitted. "I have to walk the aisle with a total stranger, someone with no blood tie to me." I straightened my spine, letting the fear harden into resolve. "But I will get to the bottom of your deaths. I will bring Magnus to justice for everything he's done."
Hours later, I was seated at a high-end parlor called Snowflakes, slowly eating a melting ice cream sundae.
That's when Donovan Giovanni found me.
Xavier's eldest brother-in-law and cousin, Donovan was exactly the notorious flirt I had been warned about. He looked unsettlingly like Xavier, except for his cheap amber eyes and a brown, curly mass of hair, a poor imitation of Xavier's sharp, electrifying blue eyes and jet-black hair.
He abandoned the woman he was currently talking to and sauntered over, pulling out the chair opposite mine.
"Hello, Samantha Rowlings," he greeted with a practiced smirk. "Good to see you. You came back from studying and never bothered to come see me. How sad."
I had been strictly warned about Donovan; he was Xavier's number-one enemy in the family and the worst offender in my previous life here. But I wasn't Samantha anymore. I wasn't here to flee. I was here to do something terrible, something memorable, to ensure he never came near me again.
"It's fancy meeting you too," I replied, flashing the fake, obedient, and slightly naive smile that the old Samantha would have produced. But the Allura inside me was a cold, merciless observer.
"Hey, no need to be shy," he leaned in, his voice oily. "He isn't actually here, which means I get to hug you as much as I can, huh? How about we hit the club? Just the two of us. No one will know."
"You must be fucking delusional, Donovan," I said, my voice dropping low. "I'm your sister-in-law, and I suppose you pay me a level of respect that I deserve."
He laughed, a sharp, dismissive sound. "Respect, huh? What a joke! Don't think Xavier is interested in you. He's never been interested in women at all. You will only ever be his plaything, so at least come to me and I'll take good care of you."
I snapped. Samantha was gone.
With a sheer, unexpected force, I grabbed him by the knot of his expensive tie and hauled him forward until his face was inches from mine. The smell of his cheap cologne made my stomach turn.
"I hate men who degrade other men when they can't even be man enough to deal with their daddy issues," I hissed, my eyes like chipped ice. His face went instantly pale, the arrogance stunned out of him.
I didn't let him speak. "Listen to me, and listen well. If I ever hear the word 'plaything' from your mouth toward me again, I will chop you into pieces and feed you to the giant Piranha, Libby, in the basement aquarium. And not even your grandfather or father will be able to discover that I did it."
He was so utterly terrified that he actually wet himself. I couldn't help it; a short, sharp bark of dark laughter escaped me. Donovan scrambled backward, nearly falling over his chair, and ran, stumbling out the door while calling me a psycho.
I remained cool and collected, letting the parlor's stares wash over me like water.
A deep, amused voice spoke from directly behind me. "Was it fun?"
I flinched, shocked to see Xavier standing there. He leaned down, placing a fleeting, possessive kiss on the side of my neck before walking to the seat Donovan had occupied. He kicked the chair aside, pulled a clean one from a nearby table, and sat down.
"You handled Tasha well," he stated, his gaze penetrating. "Why didn't you attack her immediately?"
Sensing the test, I finally opened up. "This public conflict was the perfect way to look good and win her trust," I told him, meeting his eyes. "Like a parasite, I will eat from the inside. I'm going to hack them—deal with them—from the inside."
"It's a good plan," he conceded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But it might create an opportunity for Magnus."
The sharp crack of a gunshot instantly pierced the air. A waiter passing by with a fresh sundae lurched, the bullet striking him in the chest. The creamy, pink bubblegum content of the ice cream spilled onto the floor, a huge splash pouring over my sundress.
Xavier moved like a striking viper. He grabbed me and pulled me down as we both ducked, shielding me with his body from the splintering glass and flying debris.
"Tanks! Russo!" Xavier roared.
Tanks and Russo burst into the building as the sounds of the shootout intensified.
"Ensure she is safe!" Xavier commanded them, his voice raw with adrenaline. "I will deal with the gunmen alone."
I was scared, the violence a cold fist in my gut, but I knew better than to question his methods. I bit back the impulse to tell him to be safe.
People were screaming, running, some already shot and crawling, crying for help. Tanks and Russo dragged me away from the chaos. The last thing I saw before the closing door blocked my view was Xavier, twin guns drawn, dropping into a firing stance as he engaged the enemy.
In the early evening, I found myself still patrolling the perimeter of the parlor's secure back area with Tanks and Madison. I was vibrating with nervous energy.
"Please, Miss, you need to calm down," Tanks said, his voice a low rumble. "Mr. Xavier is never the type to lose a fight. You saw what he did to Donovan. We only feel pity for the culprits who faced him."
"He is absolutely right," Madison added, adjusting her uniform. "No one wounds Mr. Xavier. We pity them."
But their reassurances didn't stick. "You don't understand," I told them, running a frustrated hand through my hair. "There were multiple guns firing. I'm not scared that he won't survive, I'm scared something wounded him or landed him in a hospital. That kind of risk is unacceptable."
Just as my anxiety reached a fever pitch, the giant door opened with a creak. All the remaining guards immediately snapped pointing their weapon but upon seeing him snapped into a low, deferential bow.
Then I saw him.
Xavier walked confidently through the doorway, and my breath hitched. His stark white shirt, tucked into his white trousers, was entirely stained with blood. It wasn't just a splatter; it was soaked across his chest and shoulder down to his knees. Russo walked close behind him, silent and grim.
I put a trembling hand over my mouth, preventing the gasp that threatened to escape. I had never seen him covered in so much blood. Tears sprang to my eyes, hot and unconscious, staining my cheeks. I made my way toward him, faster than my legs felt capable of moving, blurring the distance between us.
He didn't hesitate. The moment I reached him, he wrapped his strong arms around me.
He gestured dismissively to the guards. "Clear the room. Everyone."
Tanks, Madison, and Russo immediately followed the silent command, exiting and sealing the giant door behind them.
Once we were alone, Xavier's mouth moved to my ear, his breath warm. "They're gone."
I broke down, hugging him fiercely—more urgently, more desperately than I should have. He returned the embrace, burying his face in my hair, his arms tight around my back. I was confused, unsure how we had suddenly gotten this close, this intimate. Maybe this was all just for a show, but there was no one in the room to witness this moment but us. This raw terror I felt was real.
He began to gently pat my head, his hand tracing my scalp, the soft massage making me lean deeper into his embrace.
"Why are you crying, Allura?" he murmured.
"You're covered in blood," I whispered back, my voice thick with tears, pulling back just enough to look at his chest. "You probably have… have so many bullets in you."
He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated against my ear. He looked straight into my honey-brown eyes, a strange, possessive warmth in his gaze.
"This isn't my blood, Allura," he said, his voice dropping to a low purr. "This is the blood of the imbeciles who dared to destroy our moment of peace."
I pulled away from his embrace, my eyes stinging. Xavier's touch was surprisingly gentle as he brushed a strand of black hair from my face. "Stop crying, Allura. Save those puffy, red eyes for the cameras. They serve no purpose here."
I simply hummed, recognizing the command, and followed him into the study.
"Siri, ambient light."
The room plunged into a rich, amber hue as candles flickered to life, giving the space a dangerous, intimate glow. He removed his shirt, and the sight stole the air from my lungs. Sprawled across his back was the Azure dragon—a masterpiece of red and black ink, the colours stark and beautiful against his skin. The beast's life-like blue eyes seemed to pierce me, promising fire and ruin.
I was held captive by the image until he sensed my breathlessness. "Go ahead. Touch it."
My fingers trembled slightly as I obeyed, tracing the defined scales. The skin underneath was as cold as a dead body.
"Samantha was very scared of this guy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "She was too scared to even look at it."
I ran my hand across the dragon's head, a predatory smile touching my lips. "It's exquisite, Xavier. A cute tattoo. I've seen true monsters. This is merely a statement piece."
He turned, and the words died in my throat. A dark stain bloomed around his left flank.
"First-aid kit. Now." His voice was all business, cutting through the mood.
I moved instantly. As I brought the kit back, he began pouring disinfectant—the sting of the methylated spirit making him clench his jaw.
"Don't look," he ordered sharply, preparing to extract the bullet.
I ignored him, my gaze locked on the bloody wound, the sight strangely anchoring me. I wouldn't flinch. I needed him to see that I was capable of witnessing the ugly reality of his life.
Once the bullet was out, he handed me the gauze. I wrapped the bandage around his firm abdomen, our hands brushing as he ensured the knot was perfectly tight. The proximity was a slow burn, a familiar ache.
I pushed the painkillers into his hand. "Swallow them, Xavier. Unless you prefer weakness."
He took them down with a sigh of annoyance, the resistance gone.
He studied me then, a cold amusement playing on his face. "The concern is noted, Allura. Your performance has improved dramatically since you left. If I didn't know this entire arrangement was a public pretense, I might actually mistake that caring act for something real."
His dismissiveness was a knife, but I didn't let it show. I merely returned his dark smile, sharpening my own cruelty. "You trained me, Xavier. A good student masters the lesson. I need to be flawless when I use that 'caring act' on Magnus. As the saying goes: Use the bait, lure the prey in. My target isn't you, remember?"
He stood abruptly, casting a large shadow over me, before disappearing into the bathroom.
When he returned in a white silk robe, his black shorts visible beneath, I pressed him for the essential information.
"Lucas Turner, obviously," he confirmed, lighting a cigarette with a casual flick of a gold lighter. He took a long, sensual drag, smoke curling around his words. "The culprits were tortured until they were useless. 'Shoot the woman'—that was the only instruction. The waiter was merely collateral damage."
I paced the rug, piecing together the political chess game. "The succession is tied to the wedding, and the marriage legitimizes the claim. Killing me is the simplest way to destabilize everything. Especially since I survived the 'accident' abroad and returned."
His eyes were hard, fixed on me. "Then ensure the succession proceeds flawlessly. Don't give him a single reason to doubt the plan."
"I'll be busy at the company. I want your guards off my back."
He inhaled deeply, his expression mocking. "Planning an escape, Allura? Trying to breach the contract?"
I stopped pacing, meeting his fierce gaze. "Escaping isn't an option. The contract is clear: we remain separate forces unless necessary. Don't interfere with my operations."
He smirked, a challenge in the curve of his lips. "Do as you please, darling. But my security is non-negotiable. Especially now that someone has drawn first blood."
"Good night, Xavier," I said, turning away from the intoxicating heat of the study. "Madison has your dinner details. I'm retiring to my room."
He released a final plume of smoke, his voice a smooth, dismissive farewell. "A productive night, Allura. Good night."