Noa’s POV
At first, it was just posturing. Then one of them squinted. Recognition clicked. “Hey… you’re that casino guy from TV, ain’t you?”
And just like that, the stakes changed.
“A couple hundred ain’t gonna cut it now,” the thug sneered. “We know you got cash. You’re rich. Let’s see how generous you really are.”
Elias stiffened. “We don’t carry much cash,” he said carefully. “How about I call my assistant? They’ll bring the money.”
Then he pointed—to me.
“My wife can stay with you while I get the cash.”
My blood ran cold. He pointed at me
The thug leader laughed, low and dirty. “Your wife?” He looked me up and down like he was inspecting a piece of bruised fruit. “You’re kidding. Dressed like that? Looks more like a stray you picked up.”
Elias frowned. “She is my wife, just check the news. And if I don’t come back, you can… do whatever you want with her.”
The thug checked the news and confirmed my identity, smiling wider at me, flashing those rotten teeth. “Alright, let your wife accompany me for a while.”
He grabbed my ass like I was meat on a market stall. “Sweetheart,” he said, “you might not be as pretty as that lady over there, but I bet you’ll do just fine keeping me entertained.”
He jerked his chin at Elias. “Go. Bring me the money. If you screw me, she’s the one who’s gonna pay.”
…
Elias and Harper walked away. I begged Elias to bring my twins away. That was the least he could do for me now.
And he did.
Once again, I was left behind.
Elias Ward only protected the people he truly cared about. And it sure as hell wasn’t me.
Would he come back?
I didn’t know.
Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he was just happy I would finally disappear.
…
An hour passed. Then another.
The thug leader grew impatient, pacing, cursing, shooting me filthy looks like he couldn’t decide whether to beat me or tear my clothes off.
“I’m bored, pretty girl,” he sneered, flicking a glance at my jeans. “How about you make me a little happy while we wait for your husband?”
I braced myself, edging back, heart hammering.
But there were too many of them. Ten men, all muscle and bad intentions.
I wouldn’t get three steps before they dragged me down.
The nightmare felt sickeningly familiar.
History trying to repeat itself. But not this time.
The leader lunged for me—and I kicked him square in the crotch with everything I had.
He howled in pain, doubling over. Then he struck me across the face, sending me sprawling to the ground. “Bitch,” he spat, stomping toward me, grabbing at my jacket, my collar—hands reaching, greedy and cruel.
I squeezed my eyes shut, ready for the worst—when gunfire split the air.
Shouts. Screams. The sharp crack of rifles.
I opened my eyes just in time to see Elias’s men flooding into the alley, guns drawn, faces cold. The thug leader barely made it two steps before he was shot dead. His men scattered like rats, some falling, some fleeing.
It was over in seconds.
Elias rushed to my side, dropping to his knees.
