All Chapters of Accidentally Kidnapped the Warlord and Became His Wife: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The sound cut through the ring.Misha stumbled, legs giving out beneath him, and hit the floor hard. His palms and knees scraped against the floor.A brief hush.Then someone whistled low. “There it is.”“Finally,” another said. “I was starting to think this was gonna be embarrassing.”But I couldn’t hear the rest.Misha didn’t move. Still on his hands and knees, hair falling over his face, shoulders tight with the aftershock. From where I sat above the pit right beside Vincent, I could see him perfectly. His jaw was angled toward us, and for one horrifying second, I saw the expression behind it.Shock. He didn’t expect that. His eyes were wide, stunned, blinking like the room tilted sideways.My heart seized. He was shocked and hurt.The audience roared with approval.“Down so soon, pretty boy?”“C’mon, get up! I thought you said this was foreplay!”“Shoul

I pressed both hands to my mouth, knees weak, tears suddenly stinging the backs of my eyes.Misha won the fight, but the crowd exploded with rage.“No way!”“Rigged! That was fucking rigged!”“Get up, Knuckles! You can’t fucking lose to that pretty punk!”The boos hit like a physical wave, rattling through the arena, but I didn’t care. Let them throw tantrums. Let them scream. Let them watch their brute fall to the one they all bet against.My hands were still shaking as I looked at Misha.He wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t taunting. Just breathing. Barely upright. His arms hung limp at his sides, his head bowed for a second before he looked up right at me. He winked cheekily. Only then did I exhale a big relief. Ace let out a low whistle next to me, his jaw slack. “Well, shit. I stand corrected.”Renaldi looked like he was about to throw a tantrum. His face was blotched red with fury, fists clenched

“Your haul,” he tilted his head at me. “Or did you forget your one-dollar bet already?”“Oh.”Right. That ridiculous, last-minute one-dollar bet I threw on Misha. A loan I got from Vincent himself.“Practically everyone else threw their cash at Knuckles because they always like gambling. Or for respect. Loyalty. Or just dumb brute faith.”He handed the stacked bills to me and that was when my jaw nearly unhinged. “You’re now the proud owner of every dollar those arrogant meatheads wasted tonight. That’s nearly a hundred people, by the way.”“Oh my God,” I muttered, eyes wide as I stared at the cash.Misha leaned closer and gave a low whistle. “You just robbed the pit without throwing a single punch.”“Thanks to you,” I muttered.“Power couple things. Kind of hot, hmm?” Misha's eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’m proud of you, Angel.”Ace groaned like the sight of us being so close physically hurt him. “Fo

I asked before I could stop myself.“…Did you know I was going to accidentally kidnap you?”Misha didn’t answer right away. Of course he didn't. He just looked at me like the question was a ripple he’d already anticipated long before I ever utter the first word. “I was bored,” he said casually, eyes narrowing with that infuriating calm of his. “It was an… interesting detour.”I stared right back at him, swallowed hard. “You let me kidnap you.”“Not many things surprise me anymore.” His voice was almost light. Almost teasing. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “But that night? That was a good surprise.”“So you didn’t fight back not because you couldn’t, but because you thought it’d be fun?”Misha considered it for a second, “I wouldn’t have said fun, but it turned out to be.”I clenched my fists. “Did you know who I was when it happened?”He didn’t respond, just let the silence stretch.“Misha.” I

The car was a 2021 Lincoln Continental. Black exterior, matte finish, V6 engine with too much idle hum for subtle work. Government types liked it. Wide seats. Quiet cabin. Not too flashy. Just enough room in the trunk for a body, if it came to that.I slid into the back seat, still in my sweaty white shirt half tucked in my dress pants from last night. I didn't get the chance to change into decent clothes, let alone sleep since the fighting show and Lorraine's small outburst. Silas followed, letting the door thunk shut behind him with a kind of finality. The driver shifted into drive and rolled onto the street like it was all routine in quick succession. About a mile later, Silas pulled a slim folder from the leather pouch in front of him and handed it to me. “Klemens. State zoning subcommittee. Has the stamp we need for Southpoint.”I opened it. Senator Ernest Klemens. Yale grad. Three-term politician. Ran on infrastructure reform and ‘communit