85. Getting her back!

Egon's POV

Rage burned through my blood like poison, spreading fast and violent. One fucking day. I let my guard down for one fucking day—decided not to keep constant eyes on my queen—and she landed in the wrong hands. The universe has always had a personal vendetta with me; it never misses a chance to fuck up everything I love.

Rafael, fucking bastard!

He’s not my enemy, but he sure as hell isn’t my friend. We’ve shared meetings, lunches, and a few forced conversations over the years. But beneath that polished exterior, he’s a devil wearing an expensive suit. A man who smiles while calculating the fastest way to stab you in the spine.

For him, everything is just business. No loyalty. No emotions. No lines he won’t cross.

And that’s the real problem.

He has done more deals with Emerald than with me. He respects her mind, her ruthlessness… but that doesn’t guarantee her safety. Rafael won’t physically harm her—he’s too smart to provoke a war he can’t win. But what’s keeping me awake is the thought that he might tamper with her memories.

Rafael getting his hands on the most dangerous queen in our world and not playing with her mind? Not possible. The bastard lives to piss me off.

“King… he’s demanding all twenty-seven containers,” my man said, worry written all over his face. “We’ll face a big loss if we release them.”

Exactly what Rafael wants.

I had snatched that deal only to provoke him. It wasn’t even beneficial to me—it just annoyed him, and that was satisfying at the time. And now he’s retaliating in the most Rafael way possible.

Fuck the deal. I can sacrifice a thousand deals like that if it means getting Emerald back safely.

My only fear is her memory. This phase is dangerously delicate for her. If anything goes wrong… if her memories reshape in the wrong direction…

I could lose her for life.

Rafael—motherfucker—will pay if he’s touched her mind.

“Release all the containers. Let Rafael take them,” I ordered.

My man finally exhaled, like he had been waiting hours for that decision.

As expected, Rafael called the moment the containers were released.

“You’re fast, Bismarck,” he said with his usual calm arrogance. “I’ve always admired that about you.”

I clenched my jaw. “How’s Aurora? Tell her I said hi.”

Everyone knows Rafael’s one weakness—his wife. She is the only soft spot in that man’s entire existence. He messed with me first; the least I can do is poke that nerve.

“Take her name again,” Rafael growled, “and I’ll slice your tongue into pieces.”

Oh, he was pissed.

“You kidnapped my woman, and I can’t even say your wife’s name? That’s unfair.”

If he had been standing in front of me, I would’ve left him in a bloody heap on the floor.

“Your woman is a beast herself, Egon,” he muttered. “She’s fine. I’m sending her back to you.”

He sounded irritated. Good.

“Rafael,” I warned, my voice low, deadly, “if you’ve messed with her memories—if you’ve played even one fucking game—I swear to whatever devil you worship, I will end you.”

“I’m not a doctor,” he said casually. “I mean—I am—but not her doctor. I don’t ‘cure’ memory loss. If she regains something after seeing me, it’s not my fault. I’m returning her exactly the way she came to me. What happens after is your problem.”

Typical Rafael.

The most psychotic doctor in our underworld—studied medicine just so he could understand the human body well enough to torture people with precision. No one in our mafia world carries the level of insanity he does. No one!

The next few hours tore at my chest, every passing minute a needle stabbing deeper. The moment her landing time approached, I rushed to the airport. I didn’t trust myself to wait calmly.

She stepped out of Rafael’s private jet surrounded by his men. She must be the only captive he has ever returned in a private jet—others leave his place in ambulances, or in coffins.

My men tensed, ready to tear his guards apart, but this wasn’t the time or the place.

Right now, I wanted only one thing—my woman in my arms.

Her eyes met mine.

Something flickered in those Emerald eyes—something sharp, something searching—but she stayed silent. Just like when she left. A storm of emotions swirled inside her. She was restless, bruised inside, but not broken.

Maybe Rafael didn’t fuck up her memories after all. I hope!

“Are you okay, my love?” I cupped her face gently.

Her skin felt cold. Too cold.

Her eyes softened, turning glossy, and she stepped back, removing my hands from her face. She nodded at my question, but that small gesture sliced through my heart.

She was the same… but fragile.

Lost.

I couldn’t stop myself—I pulled her into my arms. Being away from her felt like torture, like living in a hell I couldn’t escape. Her scent wrapped around me, calming the fire inside me. Her small frame fit into me perfectly, like she was carved to rest in my arms.

But she didn’t hug me back.

She stood there, quiet, distant, trapped in her thoughts.

“Let’s go home,” I whispered.

She followed me to the car without protest. Inside, she looked like she was trying to hold herself together, her hands trembling slightly on her lap.

“What happened, my love?” I grabbed her hand gently.

“Did he do something? Did he hurt you?”

He better hadn’t. I’d burn the earth to ashes.

She shook her head. “I want to go home… please.”

She sounded exhausted. Not hurt—just drained.

“We’re going home,” I assured softly.

Her tense eyes snapped to mine.

“My home, Egon.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“I know, Emerald,” I said quietly. “I’m taking you to your place. That’s the place you want right now. I won’t push you more.”

She stared at me like she didn’t expect me to understand. Tears slipped down her cheeks—silent, fragile.

I wiped them away with my thumb, hating how rough my touch felt on her delicate skin.

“Why are you crying?” My voice cracked. “My heart can’t take this anymore. You don’t deserve even a second of this pain.”

She wiped her cheeks, breathing shakily.

“I’m lost. I don’t know what to do.”

“No matter how lost you are,” I whispered, “you’ll find me at every turn. I’ll be there. Always.”

Did she hear what I meant? I don’t know. Expressing emotions has never been easy for me.

The car stopped in front of her house. She stepped out immediately, leaving me frozen behind like she’d taken the warmth with her.

I should’ve left.

But I couldn’t.

I watched her walk away from me, each step cutting deeper. It felt like she was moving in the opposite direction of my entire existence. She didn’t look back.

Not until she reached the door.

That one glance—just one—made my dead heart beat again.

It was pathetic how desperate I’d become for even a second of her attention.

This woman would be the death of me.

She disappeared behind the door, but still I stayed. I couldn't order the chauffeur to drive away. Just knowing she was a few walls away instead of miles… it eased something inside me.

The lights in her room were still on. Her silhouette moved back and forth—restless. After a few minutes, she opened the curtains and looked directly at me.

She knew I was still there.

My phone rang—her name lighting up my screen.

I answered instantly.

“Can we meet tomorrow?” she asked, voice trembling. “I need to talk to you.”

My heart cracked again.

I wasn’t ready.

Whatever she wanted to say—it wouldn’t be good. It wouldn’t be easy.

And something deep inside me whispered—

It would destroy me.