Semua Bab Twice His Wife: Bab 91 - Bab 100

The black vans didn’t idle.Doors burst open before any of them could move. Two men in black tactical gear rushed Cassian first, pinning him to the hood of the car. His head hit the metal with a dull thud. Anaïs turned, arms out, instinctively shielding Maris even as the child clung to her waist like she was glued there.Julien barely moved. He just raised his hands. Calm. Composed. Watching.“Don’t touch her!” Anaïs screamed as one of the men reached for Maris.They ignored her.Another pair of hands—gloved, firm—grabbed her shoulders. She twisted, elbowed back, and caught one of them in the jaw. He grunted, but didn’t let go. The other one struck her across the ribs. Not hard. Just enough to knock the wind out of her.“Keep the girl calm,” one of the men said to the other.Anaïs was still gasping when she saw Cassian struggle to his feet, his lip split, his arms held behind his back by zip-ties. His eyes locked with hers. Not panic. Not rage.Resolve.She didn’t shout his name. She

The van sped through the backroads, engine growling like it was running on rage. Rain lashed the windshield, washing out the world in streaks of gray. Maris was asleep, her small body curled up on Anaïs’s lap, one arm loosely slung over Anaïs’s waist. But even asleep, the child looked tense—like she could feel the tension in the adults vibrating through the floor of the van.Cassian sat behind the wheel, jaw locked, eyes sharp and forward. He hadn’t said much since they’d escaped the convoy. Just drove, took backroad after backroad, ducked security cameras, checked the rearview mirror like a ritual.Julien sat across from Anaïs in the back, shoulders hunched, blood still staining his collar. His hand rested on a pistol lying on the seat beside him. Every so often, he looked at Anaïs. She didn’t look back.She stared at the rain.The silence in the van wasn’t peaceful. It was dense. Suffocating. Every person in it was playing a different reel in their head, trying to make sense of how

The rain had stopped, but the city still smelled like it. Wet concrete, asphalt, and something sharper—fear. Anaïs stood by the window, watching the dark streets shimmer with the fading storm. Her hands were clenched on the sill, nails digging in, trying to hold onto something solid in the chaos swirling inside her.Cassian was quiet nearby, pacing with a slow, deliberate rhythm. He didn’t ask how she was holding up. He didn’t need to. She could see it in his eyes—the exhaustion that came from fighting battles with no clear end.Julien’s absence was a hollow ache in the room. No matter how much they fought, how many secrets they kept, Julien’s presence had been their anchor. Now, the silence he left behind felt like a warning.Maris slept in the next room, fragile in her innocence, unaware of the war raging around her. Anaïs wasn’t sure which was worse—the fight outside, or the fight inside her own head.A soft knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts. Julien’s voice came throug

Outside, the clouds darkened. The storm wasn’t just in the sky anymore.Anaïs stepped out of the café and immediately felt the shift. The air had thickened—humid, heavy, charged like the moment before lightning cracks the sky. Maris clung to her leg, eyes wide, sensing it too.Cassian was already watching from the alleyway across the street, his gaze tracking everything: the delivery van that hadn’t moved in twenty minutes, the man in the phone booth pretending to talk while glancing sideways. Something wasn’t right.Anaïs crossed the street with Maris in her arms and handed her to Cassian.“We need to move. Now.”“No tail?” he asked.“Not yet. But it’s too quiet.”“Too quiet’s worse than too loud,” he muttered.They took the back route. Narrow alleys between buildings where the walls pressed too close and every echo sounded like footsteps. Maris didn’t say a word. She knew better now. She was learning what the world could be like when you carried truth like a ticking bomb.Julien was

They moved before dawn.No speeches. No drawn-out planning. Just the four of them in the dark, dressing in silence, buckling holsters, checking the weight of weapons they’d already memorized. The air in the abandoned church felt heavier, like it knew what was coming.Anaïs stood at the stained-glass window, the light behind it still weak and blue. The coordinates Morgan had sent pulsed on the screen in her hand. A single red dot, buried just outside the city, in a quadrant that didn’t exist on any official map.She turned to Cassian. “You sure you want in on this?”“You’re not doing it alone.”She looked at Maris next.The woman already had her coat on. “Someone has to get you out if it goes to hell.”Anaïs nodded once. Then down to the child.Still asleep.“I’ll stay,” Maris added quickly. “I’ll wait with him. Keep the car running.”Anaïs didn’t thank her. She just gave her a long look. One that said: If we don’t make it out, raise him knowing the truth.Maris nodded back, like she u