𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Chapter 11

Adrik : 

Stabbing in the back is not a weakness. It is smartness, I thought to myself, my mind racing as I assessed the situation. It's a way to avoid the drama and win directly, without putting in much effort. Stabbing from the front is considered bravery, though it's often just foolishness. Attacking my house on my wedding night is pure foolishness. I had already expected this from the Irish.

I could sense Grace following closely behind me, her grip steady on the gun, her presence a reassuring one as we prepared to confront the imminent threat.

I hurriedly led Grace through the dimly lit corridors of my ancestral home, each step echoing with the weight of impending danger. The ancestral portraits on the walls seemed to watch us with stern disapproval as if questioning our readiness for the challenge ahead.

As we approached the main hall, the sound of commotion grew louder. Shouts, the clash of metal, and the unmistakable sound of gunfire reverberated through the air. I tightened my grip on the gun I held, a surge of determination flowing through me.

Pushing open the ornate double doors, I entered the main hall, and the scene before me was chaotic. My loyal men fought valiantly against the intruders, their faces etched with grim determination. The attackers, dressed in black and masked, were a formidable force, but they had underestimated the strength of our resolve.

I fired a few shots towards the assailants, forcing them to take cover, while Grace maintained her position behind me, ready to provide cover fire if needed. We moved with calculated precision, inching closer to the heart of the battle.

My heart pounded as I moved forward, the chaos of the battle still echoing in my ears. In my determination to secure the area, I hadn't noticed when I lost sight of Grace. Her voice pierced through the haze of adrenaline, calling my name.

"Adrik," she screamed, her voice filled with panic and urgency. I spun around, my heart seizing in my chest, just in time to hear the sharp crack of a gunshot. Dread washed over me as I scanned the chaotic scene, desperately searching for any sign of her. All the Irish men were dead, their lifeless bodies strewn about the once-grand hall. My heart sank as I scanned the carnage, my eyes finally finding Grace, held at gunpoint by one of the intruders.

"Drop the gun," the intruder ordered, pressing the weapon to her jaw. Fear clenched my chest as I reluctantly dropped my gun and raised my hands in surrender. The tension in the room was unbearable.

Then, the deafening sound of a gunshot rang out, and the intruder crumpled to the floor.

Jeremy.

"Little one, are you okay?" Jeremy asked Grace, rushing towards her. She nodded vigorously, relief flooding her eyes as she was freed from the threat that had loomed over her.

He is not her husband, I am. Why the fuck is he so worried about her?

As Jeremy began to take charge, instructing his men to secure the area, my mind raced not finding Luca there.

Where the fuck is Luca?

"Adrik!" Grace's voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I turned to find her pointing a gun at me. My heart raced as she pulled the trigger, and the gunshot rang out, the bullet narrowly missing me by just an inch.

Stunned, I turned around to see the Irish who tried to kill me lying dead on the floor, a precise shot to his forehead. A sense of shock washed over me, and I couldn't help but be amazed at Grace's marksmanship. She had not only saved me but had done so with incredible accuracy, and the realisation of her skill left me in awe.

She saved me. A mixture of astonishment and gratitude flooded my thoughts.

The weight of my past actions crashed down on me as I looked at Grace. I had forced her into marriage, taken her father's life right in front of her eyes, and threatened her brother's life. Despite all this, she saved me.

"Are you okay?" Grace asked, her voice filled with concern as she rushed towards me, tears welling up in her eyes. She dropped the gun, her trembling hands searching my body for any sign of injury.

I reached out and gently cupped her face with both of my hands, forcing her to look at me. "Look at me, Luna," I said, using the name I had given her. "I'm all okay, and you saved me."

Her tears and the concern in her eyes tore at my heart. At that moment, I couldn't help but feel a complex mix of emotions—gratitude for her bravery, guilt for my past actions, and a growing realization that there was much more to Grace than met the eye.

After giving instructions to Luca, who had momentarily stepped away for a smoke, Jeremy made his way to his house, and I decided to head to our room. I was expecting some resistance or discussion from Grace, but to my surprise, she followed without objection.

Upon entering the room, I found her fast asleep, curled up into a ball on the bed. Her vulnerability in that moment touched me, and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of connection and concern for her.

I quietly moved to the other side of the bed and sat down, gazing at her. The events of the evening had been tumultuous, and it was clear that she had been through a great deal. Despite our complicated history, seeing her like this made me acutely aware of the complex mix of emotions I felt for her.

Grace lay before me, her brown-blonde hair spilling across the pillow. Gently, I reached out and tucked a loose strand behind her ear, revealing more of her delicate features. Her green eyes were closed in peaceful slumber, and the faintest sprinkle of freckles adorned her cheeks.

Unable to resist, I leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a gesture of both gratitude and affection. As I pulled back, I found myself captivated by her, unable to look away. Despite the tumultuous circumstances surrounding our marriage, there was an undeniable beauty and vulnerability in her that stirred something deep within me.

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- Liya