Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

Sasha stirred awake to the soft yet insistent cries of Damien. Blinking sleepily, she reached for him, her body still heavy with exhaustion. Darius wasn't beside her—he must have left early. Sighing, she adjusted herself and brought Damien close, guiding him to nurse. His tiny hands clutched at her as he latched on hungrily, the warmth of his small body soothing against hers.

Sleep weighed on her like a thick fog, and before she knew it, her eyes fluttered shut again. The rhythmic pull of Damien's nursing lulled her into a half-sleep, her head tilting slightly as she drifted between consciousness and slumber.

At some point, she felt a familiar warmth press against her back, strong arms circling her waist. Darius. Even in her drowsy state, she recognized his touch. He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck, his breath fanning against her skin.

She barely registered his presence before sleep claimed her completely.

When she finally woke, the morning light had softened into a golden hue, filtering through the curtains. Darius was already awake, his intense gaze fixed on her. His thumb traced gentle circles on her cheek, his expression unreadable yet undeniably tender.

Sasha stirred slightly, her lips curving into a sleepy smile as she met his gaze.

Darius leaned in, brushing a feather-light kiss on her lips. "Good morning, wifey," he murmured against them, his voice still husky with sleep.

She hummed in response, a soft, content sound that made him chuckle.

"You're exhausted, aren't you?" he asked, his fingers pushing back a few loose strands of her hair.

She nodded.

"Then sleep," he said simply, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Sasha let out a small whine. "But I don't want to."

Darius arched a brow. "What do you mean you don't want to? You're exhausted."

She huffed, her lips pressing into a pout. "Lea planned a double date for us today."

Darius tilted his head, amused. "And how do you know I have the day off?"

"Lea told me," she replied smugly. "And she knows because Leon told her." Then she pouted again, her lower lip jutting out. "My own husband doesn't even tell me things."

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to her lips, this time lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. His voice was low when he whispered near her lips, "That's because your husband had planned it as a surprise. I thought we'd go somewhere special today." His eyes darkened playfully. "But you ruined my plan, Mrs. Lemoine."

Sasha's eyes widened. "Really? Where were we supposed to go?"

"Well, now that you already have plans, we can't go anywhere, can we?" he teased.

She gasped dramatically, then faked a sob. "I want to go somewhere with you today," she whined.

Darius let out a deep chuckle. "Are you serious?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Why didn't you tell me before? You're so bad. I'm not talking to you anymore."

She turned away, but before she could escape, he tightened his grip around her waist, effortlessly pulling her against him.

"We can go tomorrow," he murmured against her ear. "Shall we?"

Sasha brightened instantly, a broad smile breaking across her face. Without warning, she captured his lips in a quick kiss, then pulled away just as fast.

"You're the best," she declared, pecking his cheek before whispering possessively, "And you're mine. Only mine."

Darius smirked. "Only yours?"

She nodded eagerly.

His voice dropped an octave, teasing yet firm. "And what are you?"

She lifted her chin proudly. "Darius Lemoine's wife."

A flicker of something dark and possessive passed through his eyes, but before he could claim her lips again, his phone rang.

He groaned in frustration while Sasha laughed at his irritation. Reaching for the phone on the nightstand, he answered it, his tone clipped and businesslike.

Sasha took the opportunity to slip from his grasp, but he was quicker. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place. She tried to shake him off, but his grip remained firm, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued his conversation.

She narrowed her eyes, a plan forming in her mind. Without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

Darius froze.

Using his momentary distraction, she swiftly slid her wrist free and darted toward the bathroom, a triumphant giggle escaping her lips.

By the time Darius snapped out of his shock, she was already walking into the washroom. He ended the call without another word and followed her inside.

Sasha was massaging shampoo into her scalp, her eyes closed as the fragrant lather covered her hair. She sensed his presence before she heard him.

"Darius?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

A warm hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest. His breath was hot against her neck.

"Who else?" he murmured.

She smirked. "I thought my first crush."

He stilled. "Really? And who was that?"

She hesitated, her cheeks heating. Then, in the softest voice, she admitted, "You."

Darius didn't respond immediately. Instead, he pressed his lips to the curve of her shoulder, trailing upward to her collarbone. He nibbled gently before soothing the spot with a kiss.

Sasha shivered, then playfully nudged him. "Since you're here, massage my scalp properly."

He chuckled but complied, his strong fingers working through her hair, easing away the tension. When he was satisfied, he turned on the shower. Warm water cascaded down, washing away the foam from her head to her toes.

She turned to face him, her breath hitching when she realized just how close they were. Their mouths were inches apart.

Blushing, she dropped her gaze to his collarbone, avoiding his piercing eyes.

Darius wasn't having it. He gently lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze before kissing her forehead, then her eyelids, her cheeks, and finally her nose.

When he reached her earlobe, he bit down playfully. Sasha gasped, jolting slightly.

As he leaned in toward her lips, she closed the gap, capturing his mouth in a slow, exploring kiss.

But Darius pulled back too soon, a flicker of concern in his expression. "Did you wash your body?"

She blinked, confused. "Yes…?"

"You can't stand under the shower for too long," he murmured. "It's not good for Damien."

She narrowed her eyes. "As if I came in here and started kissing myself."

He smirked. Without another word, he turned off the shower and scooped her up effortlessly.

Carrying her out, he placed her on the bathroom floor, reaching for a towel.

Before he could move away, she intertwined their fingers, holding him in place.

He looked down at their joined hands, then back at her.

She smiled mischievously. "Dress me up."

Darius arched a brow. "Why? Are your hands injured?"

She pouted. "No, but I will hurt them if you refuse."

Chuckling, he pecked her lips before grabbing a white one-piece dress she had picked. She lifted her arms to help as he slid it over her body, his fingers lingering a little too long.

Once she was dressed, she tiptoed and kissed his cheek. Then, pressing another kiss to his lips, she whispered, "Now I want my handsome Darius ready in one minute."

Darius smirked. "As you wish, my lady."

She giggled as he lifted her and placed her beside Damien. They both pecked their son's chubby cheeks before Darius strode back to the washroom.

And just like that, the day had begun.

The café bustled with the quiet hum of conversations, the clinking of cutlery against porcelain, and the occasional giggle of a child. Sunlight poured through the large windows, illuminating the cozy space with a golden warmth. The fragrance of freshly brewed coffee and delicate pastries filled the air.

Leon sat comfortably, cradling Lily in his arms as she played with the delicate flowers decorating the table. She plucked at the petals with tiny fingers, fascinated by the soft texture, her giggles like little bells in the serene atmosphere. Across from him, Darius sat with Damien nestled in the crook of his arm, the baby sleeping peacefully, his tiny fists curled near his chest.

Their wives, Sasha and Lea, stood by the balcony near their table, the gentle breeze playing with their hair. The view overlooked the streets of Paris, where people strolled along cobblestone paths, laughter and conversation blending into the city's timeless charm.

Lea laughed, tilting her head back slightly as the wind tousled her hair. Sasha smiled at her, enjoying the easy companionship they shared.

"Yesterday, Lily was such a handful," Lea began, her voice light with amusement. "She kept smacking Leon's face in the middle of the night. They were playing on the mat, and her toys were scattered everywhere. I was walking towards them, and guess what?"

Sasha leaned in, intrigued. "What?"

Lea chuckled. "I stepped on one of her toys and slipped so badly I landed flat on my back! And do you know what those two did?" She crossed her arms, feigning annoyance. "They laughed! As if it was some sort of comedy show!"

Sasha burst into giggles, imagining the scene.

Lea continued, laughing herself. "I was so mad! I pinched Leon's biceps as soon as I got up. But instead of feeling bad, he only smirked, and Lily laughed even harder!"

Sasha shook her head, still giggling. "That sounds exactly like Leon."

Lea's gaze drifted to Sasha's hair, where something red shimmered in her hair parting. She narrowed her eyes in curiosity. "What's that in your hair?"

Sasha instinctively touched her forehead, then smiled. "It's sindoor."

Lea blinked. "Oh! That's the thing for Indian weddings, right?"

Sasha nodded. "Yes. It symbolizes marriage. In my culture, a husband applies it to his wife's hair parting."

Lea's lips curled into a knowing smile. "And let me guess—Darius put it?"

Sasha hummed, a small, shy smile gracing her lips.

Lea nudged her playfully. "Not bad. You two are spending some real quality time together, huh?"

Sasha's cheeks flushed, and she glanced toward their table where Darius was seated. "Stop it, Lea. He's right there."

Lea waved a dismissive hand. "So what? Let him hear!"

Sasha laughed heartily, shaking her head at Lea's teasing.

Changing the subject, Lea reached for the delicate pendant around her neck and held it up for Sasha to see. It was golden, shaped like a tiny flower with intricate detailing. Inside, a small engraving read just one letter—'L.'

Sasha admired it, brushing her fingers over the elegant design. "It's beautiful. Does 'L' mean just Leon or both of you?"

Lea smiled, her fingers tracing the tiny letter. "You know the answer to that," she said softly before laughing.

Just then, the sun peeked through the clouds, its brightness making Sasha squint. "The sun is too strong today," she murmured, shading her eyes with her hand.

"Then let's go back to the table," Lea suggested.

As they neared their husbands, Lily's eyes lit up at the sight of her mother. She reached out eagerly, tiny hands grabbing the air. Lea beamed and scooped her up, covering her cheeks with kisses. "Oh, my baby, did you miss me?" she cooed, lifting Lily into the air playfully.

Lily shrieked with laughter, her joyful giggles infectious. Lea lifted her a few more times before finally settling her on her lap, gently smoothing down her dress.

Leon glanced at his wife. "You want to eat lunch now?"

She nodded, and he asked, "What should I order for you?"

Lea tilted her head. "First, I want some water and juice. As for the rest, just order whatever you think I'd like."

Darius, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly handed Damien to Sasha. "Hold him for a minute," he murmured before stepping toward the balcony to take a call.

Sasha adjusted Damien in her arms and, when the waiter arrived, placed her own order alongside Leon's.

A short while later, the dishes were served, and Darius returned. The plates in front of Lea and Leon held an assortment of French delicacies—perhaps a Coq au Vin or a Ratatouille, while Sasha's plate was arranged with a fresh, aromatic dish.

Leon, ever attentive, picked up a forkful of food and held it out to Lea, who playfully nibbled on it while bouncing Lily on her lap. He then handed a small French fry to Lily, who gleefully popped it into her mouth, her tiny face lighting up.

Sasha watched them, a soft expression in her eyes. Meanwhile, she fed Damien from a bottle of pumped milk, stroking his tiny fingers as he suckled contentedly.

Darius, on the other hand, was engrossed in his phone, his fingers moving rapidly across the screen. Sasha glanced at him, waiting for a moment, then noticed him pick up a spoon. Her heart lifted slightly—was he about to feed her? She parted her lips just a little, anticipating the sweet gesture.

But instead, he simply brought the food to his own mouth, chewing without even looking at her.

Something inside her deflated.

She lowered her eyes, feeling a quiet disappointment settle in her chest. It wasn't that he had done anything wrong—but seeing Leon effortlessly dote on Lea made her realize how different Darius was.

Without saying anything, she picked up her own spoon and deliberately fed herself, her silent action a quiet statement of her own independence.

As she chewed, she wondered why Darius never did things like that. He never openly expressed his love the way Leon did. He couldn't even say the words *I love you*. Maybe he simply wasn't the kind of man who expressed love through gestures like feeding her.

She understood this about him. She always had. But a part of her still wished, just once, he would do those small things—the effortless, romantic gestures that couples shared.

With a quiet sigh, she brushed the thought away. It was okay. Darius loved her in his own way, even if it wasn't always obvious.

She took her last bite and turned her attention to Damien, who had finished his bottle. His little lips were slightly parted, his tiny chest rising and falling in sleep. She carefully removed the bottle and kissed his forehead.

Taking him gently in her arms, she rose from her seat and walked toward the balcony, pressing soft kisses against his cheeks and head. The warm breeze wrapped around them, soothing and familiar.

She held her baby close, her heart full. Even with unspoken words, some things were always understood.

Sasha stood on the balcony, cradling Damien in her arms as the warm afternoon breeze whispered against her skin. The little boy slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling in steady, rhythmic breaths. She shifted slightly, making sure her shadow covered him completely, shielding his delicate skin from the golden sunlight that streamed through the open sky.

Beyond the balcony railing, the city stretched endlessly, its sounds distant, blending into a soft hum of life. But Sasha's world had shrunk to this moment—to the weight of her son in her arms, to the quiet lull of his breaths, and to the deep sense of calm that settled over her like a fragile dream.

Then, a shift in the air. A presence she knew too well.

She turned, already smiling, before she even saw him.

Darius stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light filtering in from the room behind him. His sharp eyes—so often cold, unreadable—had softened at the sight of her. A flicker of warmth crossed his face, but he said nothing. He didn't need to.

"You finished eating?" she asked, her voice light.

He hummed in response, stepping toward her with effortless grace. The movement was subtle but filled with purpose, as if drawn to her by instinct alone. Without a word, he reached for Damien, his hands—so capable of destruction—now cradling their son with infinite gentleness.

Sasha watched, her heart swelling at the contrast. Darius, the man feared by so many, holding their child with a tenderness that unraveled something deep inside her.

She opened her mouth to say something—

Then—

A deafening crack split the air.

A gunshot.

The sharp, violent sound tore through the tranquility, shattering the moment into jagged pieces.

Sasha barely had time to gasp before Darius jerked slightly, a sharp grunt escaping his lips. Her breath caught.

Then she saw it.

Blood.

A deep crimson bloom spread across the fabric of his sleeve, staining it like ink seeping into silk.

Her heart stopped.

"Darius!" she choked out, barely above a whisper.

But he didn't falter. In an instant, his entire demeanor shifted—from warmth to steel. His muscles tensed, his jaw locked, and his expression turned into something cold, calculating. He was no longer just a husband or a father. He was a man who had survived countless wars, and this was just another battlefield.

Before she could react, his grip tightened around her wrist.

He yanked her inside, his movements swift, controlled.

The glass door slid shut behind them, muting the outside world.

Inside, Leon and Lea were already on high alert.

Leon's eyes flicked to Darius's bleeding arm, then to Sasha's shaken form. His expression hardened, his instincts sharpening.

"Take them home," Leon ordered, his voice sharp, unwavering. "I'll handle those motherfuckers."

Darius barely acknowledged the pain searing through his arm. His eyes met Leon's, an unspoken argument flashing between them. "No. I will stay with you."

Leon didn't waver. "You can't. Get them out of here."

For a moment, it seemed like Darius would refuse. His body was coiled, ready to fight, his lethal instincts screaming against retreat. But then his gaze flicked to Sasha—to the fear in her eyes, to the child in her arms.

And he relented.

With a tense nod, he turned, ushering Sasha and Lea toward the car without another word.

The drive was eerily silent.

Sasha sat beside Darius, her hands clutching Damien a little tighter. Lea sat in the back, her arms wrapped protectively around Lily. The weight of what had just happened pressed down on them like an invisible force.

Darius's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles taut, his expression unreadable. Blood still seeped from his wound, soaking through his sleeve, but he showed no sign of pain. Only focus.

Sasha's heart hammered against her ribs. Something felt wrong.

The road stretched ahead, quiet, empty. Too empty.

Then—

A sudden jolt.

The car shuddered, swerving slightly. Darius reacted instantly, steadying the wheel with practiced ease.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Tire's punctured."

Sasha's stomach twisted.

Then—

Lea's phone rang.

She fumbled for it, her fingers trembling as she answered. "Leon?"

His voice was sharp, urgent. *"There was no one at the site. It was a setup. Darius was their target."*

Lea's face drained of color. "What? But—"

Before she could finish, another gunshot rang out.

Glass shattered.

The world blurred into chaos.

Sasha barely had time to react before Darius's arm wrapped around her, pulling her down. Her head pressed against his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath her ear.

Lea gasped, clutching Lily close. "Oh my God!"

The tension in the air was suffocating.

Darius's injured arm tightened around Sasha, his grip firm despite the blood soaking through his shirt. He didn't flinch. He didn't panic. He was terrifyingly calm.

"They're surrounding us," Sasha whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to glimpse out the window. Cars flanked them on either side, their windows tinted, their movements calculated. More followed from behind.

Sunlight glinted off windshields, momentarily blinding her. But when she turned back to Darius, she saw it—his unwavering focus, the raw calculation in his eyes.

Then, something else.

His arm.

Blood soaked his sleeve, seeping through the fabric in thick, crimson waves.

Her breath hitched.

Without hesitation, she reached for her dupatta, yanking it from her shoulders. The soft fabric fluttered for a brief second before she pressed it firmly against his wound.

"Darius," she murmured, her voice laced with fear.

But he didn't acknowledge the pain. His grip on the steering wheel never faltered, his jaw clenched, his mind already calculating their next move.

The phone buzzed.

Leon's name flashed on the screen.

Darius ignored it.

Lea snatched the device, answering in a rush. "Leon, we're being followed—"

"I'm on my way." His voice was tight, controlled. "Hold on."

Sasha exhaled shakily, pressing harder against Darius's wound, trying to stop the bleeding. The scent of iron filled the air, mixing with the acrid tang of gunpowder.

The chase wasn't over.

And neither was the danger.

The car sputtered, lurching forward with a sickly groan.

Darius tightened his grip on the wheel. His jaw clenched, frustration darkening his already stormy eyes. "Damn it."

A final jolt. Then, silence. The engine gave out.

The vehicle coasted a few more feet before jerking to a dead stop.

They had no choice.

Darius's instincts kicked in. He was already reaching for the door handle. "Out," he ordered, his voice like steel, sharp and absolute.

Without waiting for hesitation, he seized Sasha's wrist, his grip firm but careful, and pulled her toward him. His other hand shot out, catching Lea's arm before she could voice a protest.

They moved swiftly, urgency dictating every step.

A shop loomed ahead, its neon signage flickering against the darkened sky. It would have to do.

The moment they crossed the threshold, Darius shoved them deeper inside, past startled customers, past rows of stocked shelves, until they reached the innermost storeroom. He pushed the door open and ushered them in, positioning himself between them and the outside world.

His stance was unyielding. His presence, an unshakable shield.

"Stay here," he murmured, his voice quieter now but no less commanding.

Sasha reached for his wrist before he could turn away. Her fingers curled around his skin, anchoring him in place. "Be careful," she whispered, her voice a quiet plea beneath the tension.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze softened.

A silent promise passed between them. Then, without another word, he was gone.

Darius strode back through the store, his movements purposeful, every step exuding a lethal confidence.

Eyes turned toward him. Gasps rippled through the space as customers shrank back, their gazes darting toward the gun in his hand.

The cashier stilled, frozen in place, fear stark in his widened eyes.

Darius didn't care.

He pressed his phone to his ear the moment the call connected. "Where are you?"

Leon's voice came through, edged with strain. *"My men are handling the shooters. But where the hell are you? Is Lea okay?"*

"She's fine." Darius's tone was clipped, his focus unwavering. "I hid them inside a shop."

A beat of silence. Then Leon exhaled sharply. "I'm coming."

Minutes stretched like hours. Every sound in the store felt magnified—the rustle of a shifting customer, the nervous shuffling of feet, the distant honk of a car outside.

Then, headlights cut through the night.

Leon arrived.

His men fanned out, securing the perimeter. The tension in the air broke as quickly as it had thickened.

The attackers were either dead or had fled. The immediate danger had passed.

Darius exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulder to push past the dull ache of his injury. Relief settled in, heavy yet fleeting.

Leon's gaze flicked to him, taking in the torn fabric of his sleeve, the crimson seeping through. "Go home," he said. "I'll handle the mess."

For once, Darius didn't argue.

"The car's useless," he muttered.

Leon tossed him a key. "Take mine."

Sasha drove.

Her hands were steady on the wheel, her gaze sharp and unwavering as she maneuvered through the quiet streets.

Darius sat beside her, his head tilted slightly, watching her. Not just looking—*watching*.

She was composed. Fierce. Unshaken.

Even with the weight of what had just happened pressing down on them, she held herself together, her mind sharp, her movements efficient.

A surge of something raw and quiet settled in his chest. Admiration. Pride.

Lea sat in the back, murmuring soft reassurances to Lily, rocking her gently. But even amidst the soft sounds of comfort, Sasha could feel the weight of Darius's gaze.

He wasn't just assessing her.

He was *seeing* her.

And for the first time in a long time, Sasha felt like she had stepped into his world, not as someone he needed to protect—but as someone standing beside him.

The moment they reached home, Lea disappeared into the guest room, cradling Lily close, waiting for Leon's return.

Sasha, however, had only one thought.

Darius.

She moved without hesitation, retrieving the first-aid kit and kneeling before him the moment he sank onto the couch.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words.

Carefully, she unwrapped the bloodied dupatta from his arm. Her fingers worked with precise movements, peeling away the fabric, revealing the wound beneath.

She didn't wince.

She didn't hesitate.

There was no trace of the girl who had once thought him her enemy. No remnants of uncertainty or fear.

She was steady. Strong.

Darius smirked, watching her with something close to fascination. "I'm seeing a new side of you."

Sasha lifted her head, arching a brow as she feigned a pout. "What did you expect? I know how to handle a gun, and I know how to handle wounds too."

His smirk deepened, dark amusement dancing in his gaze.

The tension between them shifted, no longer laced with danger but with something equally electrifying.

Darius had spent his life protecting her.

But tonight, she had protected him too.

And he would never forget it.

The house was quiet except for the occasional rustle of curtains swaying in the night breeze. The soft glow of the porch light barely reached the driveway, where a sleek black car rolled to a stop.

From the balcony, Lea spotted the familiar figure stepping out. Her breath hitched. Without thinking, she turned on her heel and rushed down the stairs, her heartbeat a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

By the time Leon pushed open the front door, she was already there, waiting. The second he stepped inside, she threw herself at him, arms locking around his neck as a sob tore from her throat.

Leon caught her easily, his strong arms wrapping around her small frame. He pressed her against him, his warmth seeping into her trembling body. "Lea," he murmured, rubbing slow circles on her back. "I'm here. Look at me—I'm fine."

She pulled back just enough to see his face, her fingers trembling as they traced the edge of his jaw. Her tear-filled eyes searched his, raw and desperate. "You took so long," she whispered, her voice laced with accusation and relief.

Leon sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Things got complicated."

Lea huffed, her brows knitting together as she pouted. "I don't care," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "I won't listen."

Leon exhaled softly, his grip on her tightening. He took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing slow, lingering kisses to each of her fingers. "Please, Lea," he murmured, his voice low and pleading.

Her lips parted, eyes flickering between his and the gentle reverence in his touch. She wanted to stay mad—to scold him, to make him promise never to take so long again. But the way he held her, the way his lips brushed against her skin like a silent vow, made the fight drain from her limbs.

With a shaky breath, she melted against his chest, her arms slipping back around his waist. "Don't do this again," she whispered, closing her eyes as she listened to the steady beat of his heart.

Leon's lips brushed against her temple. "Never," he promised.

That night, Sasha lay atop Darius, her slender arms wrapped around him as if she could shield him from the world. Her cheek rested against his bare chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he took. The rhythmic thud of his heartbeat against her ear was comforting, yet the fear in her heart refused to fade.

Darius ran his fingers through her silky strands, his touch slow and deliberate, as if memorizing every texture of her. His warmth surrounded her, but it wasn't enough to chase away the chill of the night—the chill of what could have happened.

"I was scared," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if they had attacked Damien?"

The mere thought made her body tremble. The image of their infant son in danger was unbearable. She tightened her grip around Darius, as if holding him closer could somehow protect all three of them.

Darius's hold on her became firm, possessive. His body tensed beneath her, and though his voice was calm, there was a dangerous edge to it. "That won't happen," he vowed, his words absolute. "As long as I'm here, nothing will touch him."

His certainty should have reassured her, but it only made the ache in her chest deepen. She knew Darius was powerful, feared, a man no one dared to cross lightly. But tonight had proved that even he wasn't invincible.

Sasha pulled back slightly, her gaze locking onto his in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Her amber eyes, always filled with fire, now glistened with unshed tears. "And what about you?" she demanded, her voice wavering. "You keep getting hurt, Darius. I can't stand it."

A ghost of a smile played on his lips, teasing yet tinged with something deeper. He lifted a hand, his fingers brushing away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. "Then you better get used to patching me up, my love," he murmured, his tone both affectionate and resigned. "This is the life I lead."

Sasha's breath hitched. She knew this. She had always known this. But knowing didn't make it easier.

Pressing her forehead to his, she let her tears fall freely now, hot and silent. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered, the words trembling with the weight of everything she felt.

Darius exhaled slowly, his grip on her tightening as if anchoring her to him. He cupped the back of her head, his lips brushing against her temple in a lingering kiss.

"You won't," he promised, his voice low but unwavering. "You're bound to me, Sasha. No one can take me away from you."

His words weren't just reassurance; they were a vow. One he would keep at any cost.

And despite the fear still curling in her chest, despite the shadows lurking just beyond the warmth of their embrace, she chose to believe him.