Ethan's eyes snapped toward the main hall. Footsteps. Heavy. Slow. Calculated.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. Aria and Sophia knew to stay behind him.
The air in the mansion felt charged, electric. Shadows stretched across the ornate walls as if anticipating the violence to come.
Aria gripped the edge of a table. Her chest tightened—not just from fear, but from Ethan's calm, deadly presence.
Sophia, on the other hand, was glued to him. Every movement he made, every micro-expression, fascinated her. Her heart raced in ways she couldn't explain, even as she tried to appear composed.
"Ethan…" Aria whispered. "How many are there?"
"Too many," he said, his voice low, controlled. "And they're coordinated."
Before anyone could react further, a loud crash echoed from the hallway.
Glass shattered. Footsteps came closer.
Ethan moved like a shadow, pulling Aria and Sophia behind a large marble pillar.
One man appeared in the doorway, gun raised. Ethan reacted in a heartbeat:
He pushed Aria and Sophia further back.
Snatched the gun mid-air with one hand.
Twisted the attacker's arm, sending him sprawling.
Sophia's breath caught. Her heart raced. Every second, she felt herself being drawn closer to Ethan—his control, his dominance, his sheer competence.
Aria, meanwhile, felt a complicated mix of relief, admiration, and… jealousy. Sophia's admiration was obvious, and it twisted her stomach in a way she hated.
"Move!" Ethan snapped, his eyes scanning for the next threat.
Another attacker appeared, knife glinting in the light. Ethan didn't hesitate:
He intercepted the knife mid-swing.
Caught the attacker by the wrist.
Flipped him into the wall with controlled force, enough to neutralize but not kill.
Sophia gasped. "He's… he's unreal!"
Aria couldn't speak. Watching Sophia's excitement—and realizing how she herself couldn't stop thinking about him—made her chest ache.
Then came the worst sound of all:
From the balcony above, another intruder dropped silently. A glint of metal in his hand.
Ethan's eyes flicked upward. He didn't panic. Calm as ever, he calculated: distance, trajectory, timing.
"Stay close," he said quietly to both girls.
Before they could react, he sprinted toward the intruder, using the shadows for cover.
He leapt.
Disarmed the man mid-air.
Rolled to his feet without losing speed.
Sophia's knees nearly gave out. She couldn't tear her eyes away.
Aria felt her pulse spike, but she was annoyed at herself for admiring him, for wanting to be closer, for the heat rising in her chest every time he moved.
The intruder recovered and lunged again. Ethan caught him with one hand, slammed him into the balcony railing, and disarmed him.
Another crash—this time from the main hall. More attackers.
Ethan didn't flinch. He didn't hesitate. Every strike, every move, was fluid, precise, and deadly.
Sophia's whisper cut through the tension: "I… I think I love him."
Aria's jaw tightened. "I… what?" She hated how her stomach twisted, how her heart raced in ways she didn't expect. She wasn't supposed to feel this way about a bodyguard.
And yet, she couldn't stop watching him. Couldn't stop feeling the pull, the dangerous magnetism that seemed to radiate from him.
Ethan returned to the girls after neutralizing the attackers. He didn't smile. He didn't speak about his skill or dominance. But his presence alone made the room feel safe.
Aria noticed how Sophia subtly edged closer to him. The faint blush on her cheeks, the flutter of her hands—it drove Aria almost mad.
"Stay behind me," Ethan said again, voice soft but firm. "I won't let anyone harm you."
Aria's green eyes locked onto him. The words she wanted to say caught in her throat. She clenched her fists, heart hammering.
Sophia whispered again, barely audible: "I'll follow him anywhere…"
Aria swallowed hard. She couldn't admit it yet—but something inside her stirred. Something dangerous, possessive, and irresistible.
Then, from the far end of the hallway, a louder, heavier set of footsteps echoed.
Ethan's jaw tightened. His body tensed.
The intruders so far had been skilled… but this one wasn't playing games.
And he knew, instinctively, that the real threat was only just arriving.