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103. Cost of A Bluff
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2025-07-27 08:01:23Silas stepped forward, casual, unhurried. “Your hands are shaking, princess.”
I knew they were.My whole body trembled like I was standing naked in a storm. But I grit my teeth, squeezed the grip harder. “Doesn’t mean I won’t pull the trigger.”Silas tilted his head, cigarette balanced between his fingers. His eyes searched my face, and for once, there was no amusement in them.No laughter.Just a flicker of something cold and curious.“This your first time holding one of those?” he asked.I didn’t answer.Because if I opened my mouth, I might cry. And I couldn’t afford to cry right now. Not when Misha still sat in that chair, barely breathing, covered in burns. Suffering.All I had was this bluff.And the wild, reckless, stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, Silas would listen.Footsteps echoed from the stairwell behind me—slow, deliberate. The click of leather soles against concrete.<
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Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 103. Cost of A Bluff
Silas stepped forward, casual, unhurried. “Your hands are shaking, princess.”I knew they were. My whole body trembled like I was standing naked in a storm. But I grit my teeth, squeezed the grip harder. “Doesn’t mean I won’t pull the trigger.”Silas tilted his head, cigarette balanced between his fingers. His eyes searched my face, and for once, there was no amusement in them.No laughter.Just a flicker of something cold and curious.“This your first time holding one of those?” he asked.I didn’t answer.Because if I opened my mouth, I might cry. And I couldn’t afford to cry right now. Not when Misha still sat in that chair, barely breathing, covered in burns. Suffering.All I had was this bluff.And the wild, reckless, stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, Silas would listen.Footsteps echoed from the stairwell behind me—slow, deliberate. The click of leather soles against concrete.
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 102. Useless Princess
When they switched to the next act, when the wires were clipped to Misha’s wrists, I knew what was coming, but I still jumped when the current hit.Misha’s body arched off the chair, muscles seizing, a strangled noise caught in his throat. The crackling sound of electricity mixed with the scent of burnt cloth, scorched skin.My vision swam. My legs turned to water. My brain screamed at me to move, to run, to do something, but my body locked up.Silas laughed. Loud, delighted.“You see that?” he said, turning to his men like a ringmaster. “This is what happens when someone thinks they can walk into my crew and play their own game. You think I don’t see through you, Ashford? Look at you now. Quiet as a lamb.”Misha didn’t even react this time. No twitch. No groan. Just sat there, shuddering, each breath a struggle.Something cracked open inside me.I’d seen Misha fight before. Seen the fury in him. The stubbornness. The sh
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 101. Three Days Without Him
The days blurred together.Three mornings of waking up alone, with only the pale light leaking through the curtains to remind me time was still moving forward. Three afternoons of doing absolutely nothing but eating, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, and trying not to feel like a ghost wandering someone else’s house. Even my footsteps felt too loud here, like I was intruding something I shouldn't know.I didn’t go wandering often. The mansion was too big, too full of faces I didn’t know how to read. Most of them were men, rough-looking or just plain indifferent, and I couldn’t stand the weight of their eyes trailing me like I didn’t belong.The few women I came across were either maids, cooks, and one gardener. They were polite but firm. Every time I offered to help, they refused with apologetic smiles.“You’re Vincent’s daughter, Miss Lorraine, not staff.”“We don’t want Vincent to get angry if you’re seen doing chores.”“Please just relax. Your husband will be back soon.”Except
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 100. One Drop at A Time
I pulled against the cuffs, testing their give. No budge. “Since you liked the zap upstairs...” Truck One clipped one lead to the chair arm, the other hovering near my inner forearm. Skin there thin, nerves chatty.The smaller one I dubbed Truck Two, wheeled the stainless cart closer, towels folded in neat stacks beside a cracked plastic jug of water. Controlled drowning, waterboarding with hardware store chic. Why not.“Silas hates hospitals,” he added, crouching low enough for me to see the tobacco stains on his teeth. “He sends clean bodies out, no complications, no charts. And you,” he jabbed a finger in my chest, “You drugged one of his guys and handed him to civilians. Like dumping trash on the wrong curb.”“More like recycling,” I muttered.The bigger one barked a laugh and hit the switch.Electricity tore through me like a white-hot wire in my veins. Every muscle clamped. My vision whited out, and when it came back the overhead light was swinging harder. A taste of copper and
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 99. Since You Like the Zap
The Vescari mansion was a jagged silhouette against the night sky, lights burning like hostile eyes. I got out of the cab and stepped through the front doors alone, stale cigarette smoke clinging to me. I’d had too high an expectation for that particular brand, coming from a meticulous man like Silas.Too bad. I have better taste.Inside the grand hall, Silas waited with one hand buried in his trouser pocket, the other around a half-empty bourbon. His gaze flicked past me once, expecting a certain chatty idiot, and then snapped back, narrowing.“Where’s Roth?”“Hospital,” I said, kicking the door shut behind me. “Crashed out.”Silas set his glass down with a sound like a gavel strike. “Crashed on what?”“Coke.”The single syllable hung. Confusion creased first. Silas didn’t do surprise often. Then the switch from confusion soldered into a colder anger.“He doesn’t use,” he stated, “None of us do. That’s the rule
Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife 98. Margins of Fear
Ernest Klemens stared at the folder like it contained a live charge. In a way, it did. Paper cuts deeper than bullets when the ink carries weight.“Go on,” I said casually, “You already know what’s in there.”He opened it slowly, eyes moving in jerks across the first page. The Southpoint zoning reclassification. I watched his micro-reactions. Brow compression, a fractional breath hitch, the shift in posture when fight-or-flight pings his nervous system. Classic stress tells.“You’ve signed similar before,” I reminded him. “Same process. Different parcel.”Klemens’s eyes stayed on the folder, but the set of his shoulders changed. Angles sharpened. He wasn’t broken yet. “You think you can walk in here and—what? Scare me?” His tone had weight now, brittle but braced. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”There it was. The shift from fear to posturing. Common defense reflex. False spine built on habit.“Wrong variable t
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