The chandeliers rattled as the crash echoed again, followed by a scream that sliced through the music.
Guests scattered, silk gowns sweeping like frightened birds, heels clattering against marble. Waiters dropped silver trays, the sound of shattering glass ringing through the hall.
Elena's heart pounded so violently she thought it might break through her ribs. She clung to Liam's arm, her breath ragged.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
Liam's jaw was set, his eyes scanning the chaos like a predator. "Trouble we didn't invite."
Another sound cut through the panic—the sharp, metallic click of a gun.
Elena's blood froze.
From the far end of the hall, three masked figures stepped forward. Black suits. Gloves. Faces hidden behind smooth, expressionless masks. One of them lifted a pistol and fired into the ceiling.
The crowd screamed again, bodies pushing toward the exits. But the masked men didn't fire at random. Their movements were precise. Calculated.
And then Elena realized—
Their eyes were on her.
The First Shot
Liam saw it at the same moment. He yanked Elena into his chest, spinning them both behind an overturned table as the first shot cracked through the air.
The bullet splintered wood inches from her head.
Her scream caught in her throat. Her hands clutched his jacket, trembling violently.
"Stay down!" Liam barked, his voice a whip.
But even crouched, she could feel his body like a wall shielding hers. He wasn't thinking of himself. Every motion was to protect her.
The second masked man moved closer, reloading with practiced speed.
Liam cursed under his breath. His hand shot to his belt, pulling a sleek silver pistol she hadn't known he carried. The sight of it—the way it fit so naturally in his grip—sent another chill down her spine.
Without hesitation, he fired.
One masked figure dropped instantly, a sharp cry muffled beneath the mask. Blood stained the marble.
Elena's stomach lurched, but Liam's arm pressed her head against his chest, shielding her from the sight.
"Don't look," he growled.
But she couldn't block out the sounds—the chaos, the screams, the echo of gunfire.
The Trap Tightens
More figures moved in from the balconies above. Shadows dropped like vultures.
It wasn't random. It wasn't a robbery.
They were here for her.
Catherine's voice cut through the panic, sharp and furious. "Do something! Stop them!" She wasn't screaming in fear. She was commanding, her eyes blazing with authority even in the chaos.
Guards surged forward, bullets flying. Guests ducked, scrambling for safety. But the masked men moved like ghosts, slipping through the hail of gunfire as though they knew the estate inside out.
Elena's nails dug into Liam's arm. "They're after me," she gasped. "Why?!"
His jaw tightened. He didn't deny it. "Because you're mine. That makes you a target."
The words struck deep—equal parts terrifying and intoxicating.
The Choice
The nearest masked figure lunged, grabbing Elena's wrist and yanking her from behind the table.
Her scream ripped through the chaos.
"Elena!"
Liam's roar was primal. He was on the man in seconds, his fist slamming into the mask with brutal force. The attacker staggered, but Liam didn't hesitate—he pressed the barrel of his pistol against the man's chest and pulled the trigger.
Blood sprayed. The body collapsed.
Elena stumbled back, trembling so hard her knees nearly gave out.
He caught her instantly, hauling her against him, his hand cradling the back of her head. His chest rose and fell with violent breaths.
"I told you," he rasped, voice low and lethal. "Stay with me. Always with me."
Tears stung her eyes, but she nodded against his chest.
The Betrayal
Finally, the last of the intruders fell, their masks cracked on the marble, blood pooling across the once-gleaming floor.
The hall was silent now, save for the sobbing of shaken guests and the distant echo of sirens approaching.
Elena's body shook in Liam's arms. She had never seen such violence, never smelled blood so sharp in the air. Her innocence—the fragile belief that she could somehow stay untouched in this world—was gone.
She lifted her eyes, searching his face. "Why me, Liam? Why are they after me?"
Before he could answer, Catherine approached, her gown untouched, her hair perfectly in place as though the violence had never touched her.
"Because weakness," Catherine said coldly, "is always the first thing predators sniff out."
Her eyes glittered as they swept over Elena, sharp as knives. "Perhaps someone gave them a reason to believe you were worth targeting."
Elena's breath caught. Her gaze darted between Catherine and Liam.
"You think I—" Liam's voice was thunder.
But Catherine only smiled thinly. "Oh, brother, don't be so dramatic. I only meant… someone inside this house might be feeding them information. And who better than the girl who stumbled into our family so conveniently?"
The accusation hung in the air like poison.
Elena's chest tightened. "You think I had something to do with this?"
Catherine's lips curved. "I didn't say that. But others might."
The venom was subtle, but Elena saw the way some guests—survivors lingering in the corners—looked at her now. Suspicion. Distrust.
And for the first time that night, she realized: the bullets might have been easier to dodge than the whispers.
The Aftermath
Liam turned on Catherine with a fury Elena had never seen before. "If you ever accuse her again, I won't care that you're my sister. I will bury you."
Catherine didn't flinch. She only tilted her head, her smile growing. "Oh, Liam. You already care more than you should. That's dangerous."
With that, she glided away, as calm as if she hadn't just stepped over corpses.
Elena's knees gave out. Liam caught her before she hit the floor, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.
"You're safe now," he murmured, his voice softer than before. "I've got you."
She buried her face against his chest, the scent of gunpowder and cologne mixing in her senses. Safe. The word felt fragile. Temporary.
Because deep inside, she knew Catherine was right about one thing.
Being loved—or even protected—by Liam Gray was the most dangerous position of all.
The Message
Hours later, after the police came and the bodies were removed, Elena sat in Liam's study, wrapped in his jacket. Her hands still trembled around the cup of tea she hadn't touched.
Liam paced like a caged beast, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and clipped as he gave orders.
She stared into the fire, the images replaying in her mind—the gun, the blood, the masked man whispering: Run while you can.
A knock at the door broke the silence. One of Liam's men entered, holding something wrapped in cloth.
"We found this on one of the intruders," the man said.
Liam took it, unwrapping the bloodstained cloth to reveal… a silver locket.
Elena's breath caught.
She recognized it instantly.
It was hers.
The locket her mother had given her before she died—the one Elena had lost months ago.
Her hands flew to her mouth. "How did they—"
But Liam's face was unreadable, his jaw tight. He snapped the locket shut, his eyes like ice.
"They weren't just after you," he said. His voice was quiet, deadly. "They knew who you were. And they wanted you to remember… they can always reach you."
Elena's blood turned cold.
She wasn't just caught in Liam's world anymore.
She was marked.
🔥 End of Chapter 14.