Chapter 6

Dahlia

The red eyed rogue didn't even have time to snap his jaws.

Before his claws could slice through the air where my throat had been a second ago, Roman moved. He didn't just step in front of me; he became a shield of pure lethal muscle.

With a guttural roar that made the wall tremble, Roman caught the attacker mid air, slamming him into the stoned floor with enough force to break the tiles.

The rogue recovered with frightening speed. He rolled, sprang back to his feet and lunged again, his claws aiming towards Roman's throat. Roman twisted sideways at the last second, avoiding the strike by inches before driving his elbow hard into the rogue's ribs. Bone cracked. The rogue staggered but didn't fall. Instead, he snarled and launched himself towards me at full speed.

I froze but Roman didn't.

He intercepted the rogue before he could reach me, wrapping one powerful arm around his neck and wrenching him backward. The man's claws roamed wildly through the air, missing my face by barely an inch.

There was a flash of silver, a sickening squelch.

Roman's knife buried itself beneath the rogue's jaw.

The snarling stopped instantly and the body went limp.

Roman yanked his blade free, wiping the dark blood on his thigh without blinking. He didn't look at the body. His eyes snapped instantly back to me, scanning every inch of me for injuries.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice a low, rough growl.

"No," I breathed, my hands trembling against his jacket. "No, I'm fine but the safe room is just past the next corridor."

"We're not going to the safe room," Roman said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me in the exact opposite direction towards the service stairs.

"What? Why? My father said…"

"The safe room is compromised," he cut me off, his grip firm but careful not to hurt me.

"The smoke is coming from the east wing, but the secondary explosions are cutting off the underground routes. They know exactly how the layout is, this is an inside job, Dahlia."

My stomach dropped lower than it had when the windows shattered. An inside job? In the Argent pack? We were one of the tightest, most fiercely loyal territories in the region. If someone had betrayed us from the inside, it meant no one was safe at all.

Another blast shook the floorboards, throwing me off balance. Roman caught me against his chest, his scent of woodsmoke and iron instantly enveloping me. For a split second, despite the chaos and the smoke burning my throat, my wolf sparked to life, leaning into his warmth.

'Not now,' I scolded my inner wolf. 'We need to focus.'

"We need to get out of the estate entirely," Roman muttered, his eyes darting to the stairwell. "I'm taking you somewhere they'll never think to search."

"Where?" I asked as we sprinted down the narrow stairs.

"You'll see."

The answer only made me frown, but there wasn't time to argue.

He threw open the heavy metal door at the bottom of the stairs that led to the loading docks.

The cool night air hit my face, a sharp contrast to the suffocating heat from the burning mansion behind us. Alarms wailed across the estate and in the distance, I could hear the howling of the Argent pack wolves locking jaws with the invaders. I wanted to turn back. I wanted to find my father.

"Dahlia, look at me," Roman commanded, grabbing both of my shoulders. He forced me to meet his dark, intense gaze. "Your father told me to keep you safe on my life. If you go back out there, you're a target. They are here for you."

The realization hit me like a physical blow. The three assassination attempts over the last six months weren't some random bad luck, this attack wasn't just another pack fight. It was a hit, a planned one.

"Okay," I whispered, the defiance I usually carried completely melting away. "Okay, let's go."

Roman didn't waste another breath. He led me toward a black, heavily armored SUV parked in the shadows of the tree line. He threw open the passenger door, practically lifting me inside before slamming it shut.

As he jumped into the driver's seat and threw the engine into reverse, peeling away from the burning wreckage of my home, I looked at him. His jaw was clenched, a streak of ash across his cheekbone, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

He had broken his rules for me in my bedroom and now he was tearing me away from everything I knew to keep me alive.

I was supposed to be the one breaking him, but as the estate faded into the distance, I realized I was the one completely at his mercy.