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The Crimson Target
Fecha de publicación:
2026-07-10 17:59:47
Último capítulo
The Discarded Wife The Traitor's Echo
The glowing screen of the dead assassin’s phone illuminated the sharp, blood-smeared line of Jaxon’s jaw. The draft text field blinked blankly, waiting for the command that would dictate the final movements of Arthur Dutta.Elena stared at the screen, her breathing shallow but entirely controlled. The shock of her uncle’s betrayal had solidified into a cold, heavy weight in her chest. Every lesson she had learned surviving Julian’s corporate psychological warfare now sharpened into a single instinct: absolute tactical precision. Arthur was waiting for a confirmation of her death. If they gave him silence, he would flee. If they gave him the truth, he would vanish into the international banking networks before the federal marshals could even process the boardroom warrants."He needs to think he won," Elena said, her voice dropping into a quiet, chilling register that made Rhys look up from his tablet with a flicker of dark approval. She reached out, her fingers steady as she took the p
The Discarded Wife The Crimson Target
The red dot didn't wobble. It sat precisely over her heart, a tiny, burning drop of blood against the dark midnight-blue fabric of her suit.In the microsecond it took for Elena’s brain to register the mathematics of a sniper's crosshairs, the world violently inverted. Jaxon didn't call out a warning. He didn't drop to his knees. With a guttural snarl, his massive arm hooked around her throat, pulling her backward into his chest as he threw his entire weight into a hard, lateral tackle.The heavy, suppressed crack of a high-caliber rifle shattered the glass partition directly behind where she had been standing. Shards of reinforced crystal rained down in the darkness like a frozen waterfall, clattering violently against the marble floor."Down! Behind the columns!" Rhys barked, his voice stripped of all academic calm, cold and sharp as a razor.Elena hit the hard marble, the impact jarring her teeth, but the pain was instantly absorbed by the massive, solid bulk of Jaxon covering her
The Discarded Wife Breathless
The hiss of the ventilation system was a low, insidious sound in the pitch blackness. The air immediately changed, turning heavy, dry, and smelling faintly of sweet chemicals.Panic flared in Elena’s chest, a primitive instinct screaming at her to draw a deep breath, but Killian’s massive hand instantly clamped over her nose and mouth. His palm was warm, smelling of cedarwood and slate, a solid barrier between her lungs and the invisible poison filling the elevator car."Shh. Small, shallow breaths, little bird," Killian growled into the darkness, his voice a low vibration right against her ear. He pulled her flush against his chest, his powerful arms wrapping around her like an unyielding cage. He used his bulk to pin her into the corner of the steel car, shielding her from the air currents dropping from the ceiling. "Don't fight me. Let me control your breathing.""I have the schematics up on the backup local drive," Rhys’s voice cut through the dark, tight and sharp. The faint, blu
The Discarded Wife The True Wolf
The gold fountain pen slipped from Elena’s fingers, rolling across the signed transfer documents before staining the pristine white paper with a single, dark pool of ink.Arthur Dutta.Her uncle. The man who had wept open tears at her father’s funeral, who had gently patted her shoulder and whispered that Julian Vance would make a fine husband to protect what was left of their family. Every memory she had of the last five years reeled backward, warping into a grotesque, blood-soaked farce. It hadn't been an ambitious, greedy husband acting alone. It was a calculated, dynastic slaughter from within her own bloodline."Elena," Jaxon’s voice was lower now, devoid of its usual mocking edge. His massive arms tightened around her waist, pulling her deeper into his lap, his solid chest acting as a physical shield against the revelation on the screen. "Breathe. Right now. Don't let the bastard take the air out of your lungs."She couldn't. Her throat felt lined with ash. "He was there," she w
The Discarded Wife The Sovereign's Title
The echo of the heavy boardroom doors locking for the second time marked the absolute end of the Vance era. The silence left behind was thick, vibrating with the residual shock of Julian’s public downfall.Elena stood near the head of the polished mahogany table, her breathing finally slowing to a steady, controlled rhythm. The terror that had dictated her movements for five long years had completely vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp sense of liberation. She looked down at the scattered financial documents, the visual debris of the empire she had helped destroy."He is gone," she whispered, the words tasting like wine on her tongue."He is a ghost, Elena," Killian said, his deep baritone cutting through the quiet room. He stepped up behind her, his massive frame radiating an intense, protective warmth as he wrapped his large hands around her waist. He pulled her spine firmly against his chest, his chin resting against her shoulder. "A ghost heading straight to a federal cell. But gh
The Discarded Wife The Boardroom Slaughter
The glass and steel monolith of Vance Enterprises had always felt like a second cage to Elena. Today, however, walking through the sliding glass doors of the lobby, the atmosphere was entirely different.She wore a tailored, midnight-blue power suit provided by Rhys. The fabric hung perfectly against her body, structured yet subtly tracing the curves the three men had spent the night worshiping. Beneath the sharp collar of her blouse, a high silk scarf completely concealed the deep, possessive marks Jaxon had left on her throat. She wasn't walking in as Julian’s decorative ornament anymore. She was walking in as his executioner.Killian walked to her left, his towering frame clad in a dark charcoal three-piece suit that radiated pure financial brutality. To her right, Jaxon kept a loose, heavy hand resting on the small of her back, his thumb rubbing through the fabric in a slow, possessive rhythm that kept a dangerous surge of heat humming beneath her professional exterior. Rhys walke
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