The Crimson Stain

Adrian’s hand was shaking so violently that the silver blade of the pocket knife flickered under the bright chandelier lights. His eyes were wide, completely bloodshot, and rolling with pure madness. The security guards were shouting, and guests were screaming, scrambling over chairs to get away from our tight circle.

"I gave up everything for you!" Adrian shrieked, his voice cracking as he took a step closer, the tip of the blade wobbling inches from my bare throat. "My wedding is gone! My family is ruined! If I am going to hell tonight, Noah, you are coming with me!"

I did not move. I did not blink. My heart hammered against my ribs, but my face remained completely ice-cold. I wanted him to see that even with a weapon in his hand, he was still nothing to me.

But before the blade could even graze my skin, Julian reacted.

With a dark, primal roar, Julian’s massive frame lunged directly in front of me. His broad shoulders completely blocked my view of Adrian. He did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. Julian threw his heavy left arm out to shield my face, while his right hand balled into a massive fist.

SLASH.

The sound of metal cutting through fabric and flesh was sickeningly loud. The silver blade sliced straight through the sleeve of Julian’s expensive designer suit jacket, tearing into the thick muscle of his forearm. Dark, hot crimson blood instantly sprayed out, staining the white marble floor beneath our shoes.

Julian did not even flinch at the pain. His dark eyes were filled with pure, murderous rage. With a brutal swing of his right arm, his heavy fist smashed directly into the side of Adrian’s jaw.

CRACK.

The impact was devastating. Adrian’s head snapped back violently. The small silver pocket knife flew out of his hand, clattering loudly across the polished floor. Adrian’s body went completely limp, dropping straight to the hard marble with a heavy, unmoving thud right next to the puddle of Julian's blood. He lay there, knocked out cold, his white tuxedo ruined with red stains.

"Julian!" I gasped, the cold mask on my face finally cracking as I reached out, my fingers immediately wrapping around his bleeding arm. The hot, thick fluid soaked straight into my hands, warming my palms.

"I am fine," Julian growled, his jaw clenched tight as sweat rolled down his temple. He did not look at his arm. He looked straight into my eyes, his grip on my waist tightening until it was bruisingly hard, pulling me flush against his chest. "I told you. No one touches what belongs to me."

Before I could answer, Leo stepped up right beside us. His usual playful smirk was completely gone, replaced by a cold, dangerous expression I had never seen on the actor's face before. He didn't look like a celebrity right now; he looked like a predator. Leo did not look at the unconscious Adrian. He walked straight past him, his sharp blue eyes locking dead onto Elijah, who was still standing three feet away, watching the blood spill with a twisted smile.

"This is your fault, Hayes," Leo whispered, his voice dropping into a register so dark it made the hairs on my arms stand up. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, his thumb tapping the screen with furious speed. "I am making the call right now. By the time the ambulance gets here for your pathetic brother, every media outlet in the country will have the leak about your family's bankruptcy. I will personally fund the campaign to ensure your name is trash by morning."

Elijah’s twisted smile finally began to fade. His dark eyes darted from Leo’s phone to Julian’s bleeding arm, and then finally to me. Even with Julian’s blood on my hands, I raised my chin, giving Elijah a slow, victorious smirk.

But Elijah was not done playing. He slowly put his whiskey glass down on a nearby table, his leather shoes clicking quietly as he took one step closer to me, completely ignoring the security guards who were finally rushing into the room to grab Adrian's limp body.

"You think you won this round, Noah?" Elijah whispered, his voice so low that only the three of us could hear him over the shouting crowd. He reached into his dark suit pocket and pulled out a small, familiar piece of white paper. It was a copy of my old financial firm's original contract—the one with my real, legal signature from six years ago. "Julian can buy your shares, and Leo can block the news. But they can't erase the fact that your entire firm was built using the seed money I secretly funneled into your account through a dummy corporation six years ago. You didn't build your empire from nothing, beautiful. You built it using my cash. Legally, I own half of everything you are."

My breath caught hard in my throat. The hot blood on my fingers suddenly felt freezing cold.