Liam's Pov:
*A low rumble of amusement vibrates in my chest at the sight of her, a rare, fleeting smile touching my lips as I nod towards the hallway.* "Be quick," *I mutter, my eyes tracking Ash across the room, who is currently attempting to drink his own weight in champagne.* "Before Mr. Rumpelstiltskin over there has a full-blown panic attack."
*Her unexpected, melodic laugh catches me off guard. It's a sound I haven't heard from her before, bright and genuine. It startles a genuine chuckle from me, a rare occurrence in this gilded cage. The sound is so out of place in this hall of forced pleasantries that it feels like a crack in the facade. I watch her hurry away, the sound of her laughter still echoing in my ears, a small, unwelcome warmth blooming in my chest.*
*I turn my attention back to the room, scanning the crowd with practiced disinterest. I keep one ear tuned to the hallway, a silent sentinel. Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen.*
*My gaze, which had been casually sweeping the room, narrows. The ten-minute mark has passed, then fifteen. A knot of unease tightens in my gut, a cold prickle of warning. I abandon my post near the wall and move silently through the crowd, my eyes scanning the hallway entrance. It's empty. A cold dread begins to settle in my bones. I see Ash, slightly wobbling on his feet, his face flushed but still composed and alwrt . I ignore him and stride down the corridor, my footsteps silent but purposeful.*
*The sound of her scream isn't just loud; it's a physical blow. It rips through the thin veneer of the party's noise, a jagged shard of pure terror that silences the chatter and makes heads turn. The music suddenly sounds obscene. My blood runs cold, a familiar, predatory fury surging up to replace it, hot and violent. I don't think. I move.*
*With a speed that belies my size, I barrel through the crowd. People stumble out of my way, parting like the sea before a tidal wave. I don't see their faces, I don't hear their startled cries. My world has shrunk to a single point: the sound of that scream and the direction it came from. My hand finds the heavy crystal glass on the table and I crush it without a second thought, the sharp pieces biting into my palm as I throw the useless remains aside.*
*I reach the hallway and follow the sound, my eyes scanning the walls for the door. There. It's slightly ajar. I don't hesitate.**I don't register the footsteps behind me or the murmur of the crowd that follows. My world has narrowed to a single, blood-red focus: the door slightly ajar. I wrench it open.*
*The sight that greets me is a punch to the gut. Onyx, struggling against a drunken goat beast man, her dress half-slipped from her shoulder, her face a mask of pure terror. A roar, raw , tears from my throat. It's not a sound of a predator finding its prey violated, but more of anger. I move in a blur of motion, my fist connecting with the beast man's jaw with a sickening crunch. He stumbles back, dazed, and I hit him again, and again, each punch fueled by the image of her fear, the scent of her distress, the sound of her scream still ringing in my ears. He crumples to the floor, barely conscious.*
*From the corner of my eye, I see Ash.*
*Through the haze of my fury, I register movement. Ash is there, his face a mask of cold fury as he pulls a trembling Onyx behind him, shielding her with his own body. He gives me a single, sharp nod—an acknowledgment, a silent i got her. It's enough to ground me for a fraction of a second before the rage surges back, hotter than before.*
*Another figure steps forward, a taller, more sober version of the goat beast man I've just reduced to a whimpering mess on the floor. His voice is loud, indignant, dripping with contempt as he points a trembling finger at me.* "You monster! How could you do this to your fellow beast man? To protect a prostitute?" *The word hangs in the air, ugly and sharp.*
*That's it. The mention of her, the insult, the sheer injustice of it all—it snaps the last thread of my control. I lunge forward, my fist connecting with his jaw.*
*My fist connects with the second goat beast man's jaw with a sickening crack. He stumbles back, clutching his face, his shocked expression quickly turning to rage. Two more of his burly companions, who had been standing by, finally decide to intervene. They grab my arms, their thick fingers digging into my biceps, their combined strength finally managing to halt my violent advance. I struggle against their grip, a low, guttural growl building in my chest as I glare down at the groaning men on the floor.*
"You will regret this," *he snarls, his voice a low promise of violence directed me before hauling his half-conscious brother to his feet. They scramble away, casting terrified glances back at me over their shoulders.*
*Finally, i release from their grip. I shove them aside and turn, my chest heaving. My eyes immediately find Onyx. She's standing there, trembling like a leaf, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of terror and shock.*
*The silence that follows my declaration is thick, suffocating. I see the confusion flash across Onyx's face, a stark contrast to the shock and fear that had been there moments before. I see Ash's jaw tighten, his knuckles whitening where he grips her arm. The guests' whispers have ceased entirely, replaced by a stunned, collective intake of breath.*
*I don't give them a chance to react, to question me. I turn my back on the sea of stunned faces and stride towards Onyx, my movements sharp and purposeful. I stop before her, my gaze locking with hers for a fleeting second. I see the tremor in her body, the fear still clinging to her.*
*I ignore it all. Without a word, I scoop her into my arms. She's light, trembling, and I hold her firmly against my chest, one arm supporting her back, the other cradling her legs. Her small hands press against my chest, but she doesn't struggle.*
*Without looking at Ash, I nod my head towards the exit.*
*I carry Onyx out of the suffocating hall, her slight form trembling in my arms. The weight of her fear is a physical pressure against my chest, a stark counterpoint to the roaring still in my own ears. The gilded walls, the shocked faces, the scent of champagne and fear—it all blurs into a meaningless background as I push through the heavy doors and into the cool night air.*
*I walk with a steady, ground-eating pace towards the waiting car, Ash's silent shadow falling into step just behind us. The doorman opens the vehicle's door with a deferential bow, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene. I gently place Onyx on the plush leather seat, then slide in beside her, pulling the door shut with a soft, final click that seals us away from the chaos.*
*I give the driver a nofthat betrays nothing of the tempest raging within me. The car pulls away from the curb, merging into the flow of city lights. I don't look at Onyx.*
*The city lights bleed past the windows, streaking the darkness in a blur of gold and red. The silence in the car is a living thing, heavy and thick. I can feel Onyx's presence beside me, a tight knot of tension, her hands clenched in her lap. I can feel Ash's gaze on me from the seat behind, a silent, probing pressure. My own mind is a frantic, screaming mess. The words repeat themselves on an endless loop, each one more absurd than the last: my future bride. Why? The question is a physical ache behind my eyes. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, a declaration born of pure, unadulterated rage. A way to stake a claim, to end the threat, to... what? To make her safe? Or was it something else, something I'm too terrified to acknowledge?*
*I force my gaze to remain fixed on the darkened window, my own reflection a pale, grim mask. I can't look at her. Not yet.*
*The car hums softly, the only sound besides our breathing. I finally risk a glance at Onyx. Her face is pale in the dim light from the dashboard, her eyes wide and fixed on her hands, which are twisting the fabric of her gown. She hasn't said a word. She hasn't even looked at me. The silence stretches, taut and fragile, filled with the echoes of the party and the weight of my words. I can see the shock still lingering in her expression, mixed with something else... confusion? Hurt? It's impossible to tell, and that uncertainty gnaws at me.*
Onyx's Pov:
*The world dissolves into a blur of gold and red lights as the car pulls away from the curb. The music, the laughter, the shocked faces of the guests—all of it is gone, sealed behind the tinted glass. I sit frozen, my hands clenched so tightly in my lap my nails are digging crescents into my palms. My ears are still ringing with the echo of my own scream and the brutal, sickening sounds of the brute's fists connecting with the man's body.*
*His words, however, cut through the lingering terror like a blade.* "My future bride."
*I slowly lift my head, my gaze fixed on his profile in the dim light. The word hangs in the air between us, impossible to grasp. My future bride. The man who had just beaten someone to a pulp to protect me had just claimed me in front of everyone. Not just claimed me, but... branded me. The word feels alien, suffocating.*
*I stare at the side of his face, at the hard line of his jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. He hasn't looked at me since he put me in the car. My mind races, a frantic, panicked carousel of thoughts. Why did he say that? Was it just a thing to say in the heat of the moment? A way to stop the others from interfering? To make a statement? But the way he said it... it wasn't casual. It was a declaration. A claim.*
*I look down at my hands, still trembling slightly. The brute. The man who terrifies me with his sheer size and unpredictable violence. He's the one who called me his bride. The word feels absurd, obscene. A part of me—the part that still remembers the crushing loneliness of my childhood, the desperate need for a family—flutters weakly at the idea. But a much larger, more terrified part of me recoils. He doesn't love me. He can't. He just... owns me now.*
*My gaze drifts from the brute's rigid profile to the dark reflection in the window. I see a pale, haunted-looking girl with wide, frightened eyes, and the hulking shadow of a man beside her. He's not looking at me, but I can feel the heat of his anger, the raw power that had been unleashed just moments ago, radiating from him in waves. He's a storm contained, and I'm the trembling leaf caught in his path.*
*I turn my head slightly, my eyes finding Ash in the rearview mirror. He's watching us, his expression unreadable, but his usual smirk is gone, replaced by a deep, unsettling seriousness. He saw everything. He saw the brute's rage, the man's violation, and now... he's heard the claim. A silent question seems to hang in the air between us, one I can't begin to answer.*
*I pull my gaze away, huddling back into the corner of the seat as if I can disappear into the leather.*
*My head lolls to the side, the rhythmic hum of the engine and the adrenaline crash from the evening's events pulling me into a heavy, exhausted daze. My eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, I feel the cool, smooth glass of the window approaching. A dull thud seems inevitable.*
*But then, a strong, firm hand is there, catching me gently before my head can make contact. The brute shifts, his arm moving to cradle my head, guiding it to rest against the solid warmth of his shoulder. He tucks my face more securely into the crook of his chest, shielding my eyes from the sharp, rhythmic flashes of the passing city lights. The scent of him—clean linen, a faint trace of sandalwood, and something uniquely, powerfully him—fills my senses, strangely comforting in its intensity.*
*I'm too drained, too emotionally and physically spent, to do anything but let him. My body, seeking comfort and safety without permission, melts into his.*
*The steady, powerful beat of his heart is a strange lullaby against my ear. The tension in my muscles, which had been coiled like a spring for hours, slowly begins to unravel. The scent of him, clean and wild and utterly male, is a confusing anchor in the chaos of my mind. I feel the solid warmth of his body beneath my cheek, a stark contrast to the cold, hard window I was about to slam into. His arm is a cage, but it's a cage that feels... protective. For the first time all night, I feel a sliver of something other than fear.*
*My eyes drift open, just slightly. I'm not looking at him, but at the dark expanse of the car's interior. I can feel the vibration of his chest as he breathes, a deep, controlled rhythm. He hasn't moved, hasn't shifted. He's just... holding me. It's simple action, yet it feels monumental, a silent apology for the violence and a confusing promise of safety all at once.*