All Chapters of Enemies At The Altar : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Mia woke before dawn.Not with panic this time. Not with the echo of gunfire in her ears.Just… awareness.The kind that settled slowly, uncomfortably, until she realized exactly where she was — and who was beside her.Mark sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, his jacket folded neatly over the chair. A gun rested within reach on the nightstand. He hadn’t slept. She could tell by the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers flexed as if they still expected violence to break through the walls.She watched him quietly.For the first time, she noticed how tired he looked when he thought no one was looking.“You’re staring,” he said without turning.She startled slightly. “You weren’t asleep.”“No.” He glanced back at her. “You were.”She pushed herself up against the pillows. “For how long?”“Long enough to know you talk in your sleep.”Her heart jumped. “I do not.”A corner of his mouth lifted. “You told someone to stop lying.”Heat crept up her neck. “Did I say who?”“No.” Hi

The silence after his confession didn’t fade.It thickened.Mia stood near the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, as if holding herself together took effort now. Mark remained where he was, a few steps away, his presence filling the room without him moving an inch closer.Neither of them spoke.The rain had stopped. The night pressed in.“You shouldn’t have said that,” Mia finally whispered.Mark didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I know.”Her jaw tightened. “Then why did you?”“Because I was tired of lying,” he replied quietly. “And because pretending I don’t feel anything when you look at me like that is becoming impossible.”She turned, eyes flashing. “Like what?”He hesitated—just long enough for honesty to win. “Like you’re standing on the edge of something you don’t want to admit you’re already falling into.”Her breath caught. “You don’t get to decide what I feel.”“I’m not deciding,” he said. “I’m noticing.”She laughed sharply, more defensive than amused. “You notice

Because Mia had always believed clarity came with distance.That if she stepped back far enough, emotions would untangle themselves, settle into something manageable. But as she moved through the mansion that evening, everything felt closer instead—sharper, heavier, impossible to ignore.Mark was everywhere.Not physically. He wasn’t hovering, wasn’t following her from room to room. If anything, he was careful not to. But she noticed him in the details now. In the way guards deferred to him with quiet respect. In how conversations stilled when he entered a space. In how he listened more than he spoke, and when he did speak, people obeyed.Loyalty clung to him like a second skin.She saw him in the war room later, leaning over a table scattered with maps and reports. Luca stood across from him, speaking in low tones. Mark nodded occasionally, eyes focused, expression unreadable. He looked… burdened. Not powerful for the sake of it, but responsible.When one of the younger men grew agit

The second gunshot shattered her thought just then. She heard the sound already echoing through her bones a sharp crack, then another, followed by the scream of an alarm tearing through the mansion. Red lights flickered to life along the walls, bathing the corridor outside her room in a violent glow. For one disoriented second, she thought it was another nightmare. Then the shouting started. “Breach! East wing—move!” Boots thundered past her door. Somewhere below, glass exploded. Mia’s heart slammed against her ribs as she bolted upright, dragging the sheet around herself. She barely had time to swing her feet to the floor before her door burst open. Mark. He was already dressed, gun in hand, jaw tight, eyes razor-sharp. Blood smeared his sleeve not his, she realized with a jolt, too bright, too fresh. “Get up,” he said, voice clipped. “Now.” “What’s happening?” Her voice shook despite her effort. “They’re here.” He didn’t have time for explaining. Then another explosion r

They didn’t make it ten steps.The corridor ahead burst open with a crack that split the air, the sound sharp and unmistakable. A gunshot. Then another. Guards shouted. Someone screamed.“Mia, down!” Mark barked.She barely had time to react before his body slammed into hers, spinning her hard against the wall. He covered her completely, broad back shielding her as something struck him with a wet, sickening sound.He grunted—not loud, not dramatic. Just a breath punched out of him.“Mark?” Her voice broke.They hit the floor together. His weight pressed into her, heavy and shaking. The smell of blood flooded her senses.“Get him!” Luca roared somewhere behind them. More shots followed, boots pounding, orders flying.But Mia heard none of it.She saw only Mark’s face, too pale now he was shot from the previous fight,jaw clenched tight as he fought to stay upright. Her hands slid beneath him, coming away slick and red.“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no—”“It’s okay,” he said, forcing the