All Chapters of The King’s Wrong Captive: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

I barely bother drying off.I wrap a towel around myself and hurry down the hall, feet silent against the carpet, instinct pulling me toward the room I know Danika claimed. I knock once and push in without waiting.She looks up.Takes me in from head to toe.Then—blesses me by not asking a single question.Instead, she snaps her fingers and gestures to the bed, which is already covered in options.“Alright,” she says briskly. “Lunch outfits. We’re going public, which means we’re lying with fabric.”I smile faintly. That’s a language I understand.She starts pulling dresses from the pile. Structured. Elegant. Sharp. Then softer pieces. Flowing. Neutral. Innocent.I gravitate toward one immediately.A black sundress. Light fabric. Small white floral pattern. Simple neckline. Nothing tight. Nothing aggressive. Easy to move in. Easy to underestimate.Black flats to match—quiet, practical, forgettable.Danika watches me consider it, then nods slowly.“Oh,” she says. “I see it.”I glance up

turns to leave.And that’s when I see it.The flick of Jasime’s fingers.The subtle nod.The tension shift.“DOWN—”I don’t finish the word.I launch.I slam into Dante and Danika, taking all three of us off the bench as glass explodes behind us. The sound is deafening—shattering windows, screaming civilians, chaos.A bullet tears past where Dante’s head was a second ago.Another grazes my shoulder.White-hot pain flares, but I don’t stop.“GO!” I yell. “MOVE!”Hands grab me.My foot catches.Ryan.He yanks me back hard, fury contorting his face in a way I’ve never seen.“JUST DO YOUR JOB FOR ONCE!” he screams.He kicks my ribs—once, twice—wild, untrained, desperate. “Everything can go back to normal!”Normal.I laugh even as the air leaves my lungs.Then Ryan flies sideways.Rocco.He hits my brother so hard he skids across the floor.More shots ring out.Rocco hauls me up, arm locked around my back. “RUN.”We sprint.The SUV screeches up just as Dante throws the door open. Danika’s

The SUV screams up the drive like it’s outrunning the bullet that kissed my shoulder.Rocco brakes hard. Gravel spits. The engine idles angry. Dante is out before the car fully stops—door yanked open like he’s ripping the night apart.“Move,” he snaps, voice like a commandment.Danika grabs the bag of napkins and fast-food wrappers, shoving them aside. “Aria—lean forward, let me see—”“I’m fine,” I say automatically, but my shoulder throbs hot and my ribs feel like they’re humming.Dante’s hand is already at my elbow. Not gentle. Not rough. Certain. “Out.”“I can walk.”“I didn’t ask.” His eyes cut to mine, bright and furious. “Out. Now.”I push out of the back seat and my feet hit the ground—barely steady. The adrenaline is draining fast, leaving that hollow, shaky aftertaste. Dante doesn’t let me sway.He’s there. Solid. Close. Like he’s decided my body belongs within his range and nowhere else.Danika falls into step on my other side. “It really is just a graze—”“Stop minimizing i

Danika shuts the door behind us softly, like the house itself might be listening.For a moment neither of us speaks.I sit on the edge of the bed, carefully, ribs protesting, shoulder burning dully beneath the bandage. The room smells faintly like clean linen and something darker—leather, maybe, or cologne that doesn’t belong to me.Danika leans against the dresser, arms crossed, studying me the way someone does when they’re trying to decide how much truth to offer without breaking you.“You scared the hell out of him,” she says finally.I snort, tired. “He’s a big boy.”She shakes her head. “No. That wasn’t normal.”I glance up at her. “What part of today was normal?”“You know what I mean,” she says. “I’ve seen Dante angry. I’ve seen him violent. I’ve seen him calculated.”She pauses.“I’ve never seen him like that.”I look away.The silence stretches.“He’s had women,” Danika continues carefully. “Plenty of them. Flings. Arrangements. Nights that didn’t mean anything the next morni

I’m still staring at the tablet when Rocco comes back in.I don’t look up right away. The photos blur together—faces, compounds, routes—but none of it is sticking. My mind keeps looping back to Danika’s voice. To the look on Aria’s face when I told her not to normalize pain.“Boss,” Rocco says carefully.I finally lift my head. “You hear any of that?”He doesn’t pretend. “Unfortunately? Yeah. All of it.”I set the tablet down on the counter, slower than necessary. “And?”Rocco shifts his weight. He’s choosing his words. That alone tells me enough.“And I think,” he says, “you weren’t wrong.”My jaw tightens.“But,” he adds quickly, “you could’ve worded it differently. A hell of a lot differently.”I huff once. “So I screwed up.”“You didn’t screw up,” he corrects. “You stepped on a landmine without realizing it was buried there.”I lean back against the counter, arms crossed. “Pain shouldn’t be routine.”Rocco nods. “No. It shouldn’t.”Silence stretches.Then I ask, quieter, “What wou