Lahat ng Kabanata ng Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

We arrived at the golf course just past ten.The sun was already obnoxiously smug, pouring down over the sprawling green estate like it owned the place. Which, to be fair, one of these men probably did.Misha parked the car. Aside from his back polo, and ash grey trouser, he had sunglasses and a watch. A brand I didn’t recognize, either too expensive for me to ever dream of owning, or so cheap and obscure that no one would dare wear it to an outing like this. He looked so indifferent about all of this though.On the other hand, I wore white.A soft, sleeveless dress that fit just tight enough to play the part but loose enough for me to breathe. Something light, like he asked. Something palatable for brunching wives and ruthless men pretending to be gentle.Before I could adjust the strap on my shoulder, Misha leaned in close and murmured, “Act like usual. Smile. Mingle. Listen. Especially to Juliet Hanover.”The name still made

As it turned out, we didn't go straight home from the golf-gathering event. Misha took me shopping for groceries, some band's vinyl records, and a bottle of very expensive wine. I knew it was all about quality, but, come on, who bought a bottle of fermented liquid for three grand on a whim?Of course, he had enough money to throw away. We also had dinner in a five star restaurant. I was surprised we could even enter it in the first place, considering we were dressed for golf and casual gatherings, not fine dining. It should be less than decent for a place like that. Only after we were done and he didn't even give a dime that I figured Misha probably owned the whole thing.“You’re quiet,” Misha said as we drove to his cliff house, his tone deceptively casual.I glanced at him, a little annoyed. “I’m thinking.”“About biting Juliet again?” he teased, lips twitching.“About how she weaponized a room full of bored, miserab

I heard the boots before I saw them. Two sets thudding down the hall, the third fainter, circling wide, maybe heading for the back.They were coming fast.I wiped my knife on the second man’s sleeve and darted into the nearest doorway just as a flashlight beam sliced through the hallway. I crouched behind the desk, heart hammering. No time to catch my breath.One shadow appeared in the doorway. Then another. Guns raised. Sweeping the room. Talking in low, tense murmurs.“Check the kitchen. Sweep left. I’ll clear the study.”Okay.The third one peeled off toward the kitchen, boots retreating. One lingered in the hall, watching their six. The last stepped into the study. I shrank lower, flattening behind the desk.He moved closer, another cautious step, and I gripped the knife tighter. He turned the corner. Saw me. I launched upward, slamming into him before he could raise the rifle.We crashed into the

I saw my chance in the way the guard’s anger overtook him in an instant. Momentum shift. Open stance. Arm too high.So, I dropped my weight to the left, pivoted on my heel. Brought my knees up fast and drove both boots into his inner thigh. Just above the knee and below the groin. Not enough to drop him, but enough to jolt his footing and throw off balance. Used the shift to launch up from the wall. My head slammed into his chest as I surged forward, hands still cuffed but leverage stolen in the chaos.He stumbled back a half-step.Good enough.I went for the weapon next. Harder with my hands cuffed behind me, but not impossible. I twisted in, dropped low, and used the momentum to swing my leg in a wide arc. My shoe cracked against the underside of the rifle, knocking the barrel up just as he squeezed the trigger. The suppressed shot went wide, a muffled pfft swallowed by the crashing waves below.He grunted.

The armoire slid smoothly with a little push, and I stepped out of the panic room on a shaky breath.Silence greeted me. Not a whisper of what I assumed was gunfire from minutes ago.I crept through the guest room, heart hammering in my chest. The hallway was darker than before, the lightbulbs flickering above like they were struggling to breathe. So was I.Then the smell hit me.Blood. Iron thick in the air.I moved down the stairs, barefoot, barely aware of my own body. Each step sent shivers through my spine. I clutched the railing as if it could anchor me to reality.Then I saw the hallway below looked like a warzone. Blood painted the walls in dark, smeared streaks. It dripped from the edge of the console table, pooled along the baseboards, splattered up the doorframes like some grotesque mural. My throat locked up.One man was slumped against the wall near the back patio door, his head lolled to the side,