All Chapters of Seduced by His Touch: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Night had fallen like a velvet curtain as Alex Cole looked out over the quiet expanse of the Coleman-Hartmann grounds. Security cameras swept through motion in stately curves, their LED globes glowing red in the night. He was in the command center, screens laid out before him, each feed pulsing with muted blue light. Beside him, Detective Marquez scrolled through a tablet, cross-checking the logs."Here," Marquez pointed, to a past-entry. "Guard #7's badge was employed to bypass our perimeter camera system—twice last week, three nights previously."Alex leaned in. His trusty bodyguard, Harris, had had his back hundreds of times. He replayed the feed: Harris, black form against the tractor-lit driveway, at the gate panel. He glanced over his shoulder as if he was looking for someone in the darkness."Bring him in," Alex ordered, speaking low and urgently. "Now."Within seconds, Harris pushed into the command room, with two security men on either side of him. His usually unreadable face

The sky was a violet and indigo bruise as Alex Cole steered the matte-black SUV onto the gravel service road that traced the city's perimeter. Streetlights fell away behind them, the last burst of traffic winking like fireflies on the horizon. Liana Coleman rested her hand against the cool window in the passenger seat, breath frosting the glass in tiny crescents. The rest of the world was large and indifferent—until its edge came into view: Malachi Voss's compound, a stronghold of razor wire and corrugated steel, the sunset throwing its shadow across the open mouth of the entrance gate.Three unmarked vehicles drew up behind them: a police sting team led by Captain Reyes, who stood flanked by tac officers in black fatigues and night-vision goggles. A SWAT commander, Lieutenant Garcia, bulldog of a man, tapped a finger on the hood, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the compound's perimeter. Leo Hartmann stood toward the back of the convoy, his posture tight in the dim light, a rifle cradle

The courtyard was chaos incarnate. Bullets churned the air into staccato blasts, sparks sprayed from metal crates. Police backup huddled behind armored vehicles, firing sporadically. Malachi’s men herded Marisol back toward the warehouse door, shoving her roughly. A half-dozen officers froze, pinned by rifle fire. Liana’s heart thundered: no one was moving.She unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed the car door open. “I’m going,” she shouted to Alex. The SUV rocked as he slammed his fists on the roof. “Liana, no!”She had already sprinted into the gunfire, white snow swirling at her ankles. Alex leapt after her without hesitation. He sidestepped a volley, catching her elbow. “Stay low!” he ordered, voice raw.She ducked under his elbow, breath expelling. Bullets zipped past her head; rounds smacked into the pavement at her feet. She spotted Marisol's small form, jammed between the wall of the warehouse, sobbing. Leo burst from behind a stack of pallets, gun raised, eyes blazing with resolv

Time shattered the moment the bullet tore through Leo Hartmann's shoulder. His world spun on its axis, and the snow that had fallen so quietly moments before exploded into shards of panic. Liana Coleman's scream echoed off the walls of the courtyard, shattering the staccato crackle of gunfire. She sprinted to her father's side, boots skidding in slush as she dropped to her knees beside him, hands trembling as she pressed against the ragged wound.Leo's complexion was ashen, sweat beads forming at his temple despite the cold. His eyes widened, a wild surge of fear crossing their surface before pain reclaimed them. He gasped for air, his chest heaving like a broken bellows. Liana's small hands dug into his coat, seeking warmth, seeking life. "Papa," she sobbed, voice cracking. "Papa, don't let go!Behind them, Ruth Coleman raised her Glock with a ferocious resolve, standing between Malachi Voss and the broken ring of her family. The gun's muzzle glinted in the floodlight, a silent warnin

The incessant beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in Leo Hartmann's hospital room, underscoring the fragile beat of life. Sunlight poured through the half-drawn blinds, illuminating dust motes suspended in stale air. Leo lay back on pillows, left arm in a sloppy sling, shoulder bandaged in white gauze. His usual calm and confident face was furrowed with pain and exhaustion.Liana Coleman hovered beside his bed, damp cloth at the ready, wiping the sweat from his brow. Her own eyes were ringed with fatigue; dark circles spoke of sleepless nights haunted by that dreadful instant when she had watched him fall. Guilt pierced her breast. If only she had been more responsible—if only she had not charged forward to protect Marisol—her father would not have been shot."How are you doing, Papa?" she breathed softly, her voice laced with uncertainty.Leo tried a faint smile. "I am living," he struggled out. "That was all I required."He gazed at her trembling fingers. "You did this."Lia