Semua Bab The Alpha’s Runaway Prize: Bound by the Billionaire’s Blood: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The scent of Casablanca lilies was supposed to be romantic. To Sabizina Moretti, it smelled like a funeral.She stood before the floor-to-ceiling gilded mirror in the bridal suite of the Vane Cathedral, a structure of glass and steel built specifically for this day. Her dress was a masterpiece of Valenciennes lace and hand-stitched pearls, costing more than the average person earned in a lifetime. It was heavy—a beautiful, shimmering suit of armor that weighed thirty pounds and felt like a lead coffin."You look like a queen, Sabi," her father, Lorenzo Moretti, whispered from the doorway. He looked revitalized, the lines of stress from his recent bankruptcy smoothed away by the sheer power of the Vane name.Sabizina didn’t turn. She watched his reflection. "I look like a transaction, Father. Let’s not pretend otherwise.""Rage Vane is the most powerful Alpha in the Northern Hemisphere," Lorenzo snapped, his voice losing its warmth. "This 'transaction' saved our family from the gutter.

The flight from the Mediterranean to Manhattan had been a blur of pressurized cabin air, the hum of jet engines, and the stifling presence of medical droids. Rage hadn't spoken more than ten words during the crossing. He had sat across from her, a glass of untouched scotch in his hand, his silver-gray eyes fixed on her stomach as if he were trying to decode the very DNA of the children she carried.Now, the elevator of the Vane Tower ascended with a sickeningly smooth speed. The digital floor indicator climbed past eighty, ninety, a hundred.When the doors slid open, Sabizina didn't step out. She couldn't.The penthouse wasn't a home; it was a fortress of glass and white marble suspended in the clouds. The last time she had been here, it was a cold, minimalist bachelor pad. Now, it had been transformedd."Welcome home, Sabizina," Rage said, his voice echoing in the vast, open space.She stepped out, her feet sinking into a rug so plush it felt like walking on a cloud. The floor-to-cei

The morning after was always the most dangerous time for a man like Rage Valerius Vane. In the cold light of dawn, logic usually returned to strip away the warmth of the night. But as he lay in the oversized bed, watching the sun bleed gold over the Manhattan skyline, logic was the last thing on his mind.Sabizina was curled against his side, her breathing deep and rhythmic. One of her hands was tucked under her pillow, the other rested atop the sheet, her fingers curled slightly as if reaching for him even in sleeep.Rage didn't move. His "Hyperthymesia" was currently a blessing and a curse. He was replaying every second of the last eight hours—the taste of her skin, the way she had whispered his name not as a curse, but as a lifeline, and the incredible, grounding weight of his children between them. For a man who lived in a world of digital abstractions and cold glass, this was the first time he had felt truly solid.But the silence didn't last.The soft, blue ambient lighting of t

The air in the medical suite was heavy with the sterile scent of ozone and the rhythmic, comforting thrum-thrum of the fetal heart monitors. It was a heartbeat in stereo—Leo and Luna, signaling their survival to the quiet room.Sabizina’s eyelashes fluttered. Her first sensation wasn't pain, but a strange, humming warmth circulating through her veins. It felt like liquid gold, steadying her pulse and anchoring her soul.She turned her head slowly on the silk pilloww.Rage was there. He hadn't moved. He was slumped in the high-back leather chair, his head tilted back, eyes closed. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, revealing the white medical tape on his forearm. He looked haggard—the indestructible Alpha CEO finally showing the cracks of a man who had nearly watched his world end."Rage," she croaked, her throat feeling like it was filled with glass.His eyes snapped open instantly. There was no grogginess, no transition from sleep to wakefulness. He was simply on. He was

The euphoria of the gala vanished before the Maybach even cleared the underground garage of the Vane Tower. The text message from Lorenzo Moretti sat on Sabizina’s screen like a digital venom, turning her blood to icee.See you at the delivery, Sabizina.Rage felt the shift in her immediately. The man was a human lie detector, a master of micro-expressions, and right now, he was reading a level of terror in Sabizina that she hadn't shown even when the assassins were in the vents."Give me the phone," Rage commanded, his voice dropping an octave.Sabizina handed it over, her fingers trembling. Rage read the message once. His photographic memory etched the characters into his brain, analyzing the syntax, the timestamp, and the origin."Marcus," Rage barked into the car’s intercom. "Scrub the perimeter of the tower. I want a 10-mile dead zone. No drones, no unrecognized signatures. And get the lead tech on the line. I want to know how a restricted Russo-encrypted line hit my wife’s priva