Chapter 3 - The Silver Cage
Women screamed. Champagne flutes exploded against the floor in showers of sparkling crystal and spilled amber wine. Pandemonium swept through the Harrington Grand like a wildfire through dry brush. The city's wealthiest patrons stampeded toward the grand double doors, trampling silk trains and evening capes in their frantic bid for survival.
Roman didn't flinch.
The bullet tore through the silk of his shoulder seam, leaving a smoking black graze against the dark fabric, but he stood like an iron pillar, shielding me completely from the line of fire. Before Julian could loose a second round, Nikolai’s suppressed weapon spat twice. Marble erupted into dust where Julian had been standing half a heartbeat before; the assassin threw himself behind a massive Corinthian pillar, using the terrified crowd as human shields to slip toward the service corridors.
"Nikolai! Cut the freight elevators!" Roman bellowed over the shrieks of the crowd. His arm was still locked around my waist, lifting me almost entirely off my feet as he dragged me toward the private rear terrace.
"Roman—you're hit—" I gasped, staring at the torn fabric, the sudden smell of ozone, cordite, and copper filling my nostrils.
"It's a scratch. Move your feet, Serena!"
We burst through the heavy brass emergency doors into the biting November chill of the service alley. The city air hit my bare shoulders like a thousand needles, but the shock barely registered against the adrenaline burning through my veins.
A black armored Maybach was already idling against the curb, its tires smoking as it slammed into reverse the second we appeared. The rear door flew open from the inside.
"Get in," Roman ordered, thrusting me inside the darkened cabin before throwing his own broad frame in behind me and slamming the reinforced door shut. "Drive!" he barked to the driver. "Take the lower Wacker route. Nikolai has the rear flank."
The heavy sedan surged forward, pinning me back against the buttery leather seats.
Outside, the glittering facade of the hotel vanished into a blur of rain and neon lights. Inside, the quiet was suffocating, broken only by the sound of Roman’s ragged breathing.
I sat curled against the far door, clutching my bare left hand. The diamond wedding ring—the one I had worn for six agonizing years—was gone, left behind on the ballroom floor. But inside my fist, my fingernails bit into my palm so hard I could feel blood rising.
Roman unbuttoned his coat with steady, practiced hands, revealing the blood blooming across his white dress shirt. He pulled a compact medical kit from beneath the passenger seat, his movements methodical, terrifyingly calm. He didn't look at me.
"Say something," I choked out, the tears finally breaking past the dam of my pride. "Say something, Roman!"
He paused, a roll of sterile gauze between his bloodstained fingers. When he finally looked up, the harsh glow of passing streetlamps sliced across his face, illuminating the dark hollows of his cheeks, the razor-sharp edge of his jaw, and the storm of fury and agony waging in his dark eyes.
"I told you not to come tonight," he said, his voice dangerously low.
"You told me nothing!" I screamed, my voice cracking under the weight of six months of silence. "You treated me like garbage! You threw me to the wolves! For half a year, you didn't touch me! You didn't look at me! You slept in the east wing, you came home at dawn smelling of smoke and iron, and when I reached for you at the spring gala, you pushed me away like I was diseased!"
I was shaking violently, my chest heaving, the silk of my gown sticking to my clammy skin.
"Do you have any idea what they said about me?" I whispered, tears blinding me. "The entire city thought you took a mistress. They laughed at me behind their champagne glasses. My own sister told me to pack my bags before you had me erased from the family registry! And now you tell me... you tell me you were protecting me?"
Roman threw the gauze onto the seat. In one swift, brutal movement, he bridged the space between us, his uninjured hand gripping my chin, forcing my tear-streaked face upward until my eyes were locked onto his.
"You think I cared about what those vultures said?" he hissed, his thumb pressing hard against my trembling lower lip. "You think my pride meant more to me than your pulse?"
"You broke my heart!"
"I broke your heart so they wouldn't stop it from beating!" Roman roared, his restraint snapping like dried timber. His chest heaved against mine, the raw scent of his cologne and blood overwhelming me. "Every eye in this damn city watches my every breath, Serena. The moment they realize you are my weakness—the moment they see that I would burn this entire city to ash if someone plucked a single hair from your head—they will cut you into pieces just to watch me bleed."
May you like
He leaned in, his lips inches from mine, his dark eyes burning with a savage, unhinged devotion I had never seen before.
"I made them think I was bored of you. I made them think you had no value to me. Because in our world, Serena... things with no value don't get stolen. Things with no value don't get killed."
