All Chapters of His Ex Mistress, His Enemy: Chapter 201 - Chapter 208

Waking from a long blackout felt like waking from a hangover without the pleasure that usually came before it.Zane’s bedroom ceiling drifted overhead, the wood lines blurring before they snapped into place. A wall sconce in the corner washed everything in a dull honey glow. Cool air skimmed my skin, carrying the clean scent of fresh linen and a hint of cologne that had already claimed every surface.The first thing I felt: a sharp pulse on the back of my hand.I turned. A clear tube stretched from the needle taped into my right hand up to the IV stand beside the bed. Perfect. A slow drip of clear fluid tapped into the line, steady and patient, like my entire existence had boiled down to gravity.“Seriously.” My voice rasped. “Another IV.”My focus dropped and that’s when I realized I wasn’t alone.Ash curled against my left side, his tiny head resting on my free arm. His mouth hung open a little, breath feather-soft. His lashes fluttered each time he exhaled, his hair a wild mess, hi

If there had been an award for the Worst Midnight Decision, I would’ve been holding the trophy already.I slipped past the iron gate and dropped onto the dirt road. Mud splattered my shoes. Milan’s cold bit straight through my hoodie. The narrow stretch ahead sat empty, washed in a thin ribbon of fog and framed by old trees leaning over the path. A low engine hum crept closer. A pale yellow glow broke through the dark.A taxi.Not a sleek black sedan with tinted windows. Just a regular city cab. White paint. A crooked TAXI sign on top that looked like it had survived too many bad nights. The engine rolled to a stop right in front of me. The driver lowered the window.A man in his fifties, gray hair, thin mustache, sly eyes that had clearly watched too many fools get into his car at even worse hours.“Signorina?” Thick accent. His gaze drifted from my face to the hoodie, to my pants, then to the gate behind me. He checked the address on the phone strapped to his dashboard. “Via… that o

The second blast hit closer.The floor lurched for real this time. The light overhead stopped being décor and turned into a threat; the cable swung hard, its shadow dancing over the brick wall. Dust rained from the ceiling, stinging eyes and throat.“What was that?” Erick choked from the chair.“Picnic,” I muttered without thinking. “Gangster edition.”Amelia was already at the window. Her heels clicked on the concrete with a rhythm that didn’t match the situation at all. She yanked the grimy curtain aside and looked out.When she turned again, the change on her pretty face wasn’t dramatic. My brow even appreciated the Botox. Her jaw locked.“They’re here,” she said.“They?” I gripped the back of Erick’s chair, heart counting down on its own.The third explosion didn’t come from far away. It felt like something blew right under our feet. Heat rushed through the cracks of the window, carrying the bite of smoke and metal.Then… gunfire.The first shot cracked through the warehouse halls

Zane climbed down from his firing position.Diego and another guy shoved inside, spreading out, rifles aimed at the far side of the room where the gunshot had come from. Two men in black—definitely not our people—dragged themselves behind a small forklift at the end. One wasn’t moving. The other tried to lift his gun with a shaking hand.“Put it down.” Zane’s voice cut through the room. Cold. “Now.”The guy turned, eyes wild. His right hand rose, the gun lining up with… me. Great.I held my breath. Erick pressed against the drum behind me, his body forming a thin wall.The next bullet didn’t come from the enemy.A single shot cracked. Diego. His rifle jerked up just a little, then dropped again with a blink-fast reflex.The man’s gun flew from his hand, clattering against the wall. He staggered, shouting, clutching the shoulder that was now bleeding.“Try it again,” Diego spat in Italian, keeping the barrel low. “We’re not the police.”Amelia lifted her hands higher, fast, her fingers