《My Possessive CEO (Can love conquer pain?)》全部章節：第 81 章 - 第 90 章

Gunfire erupts.Loud. Relentless. Too close.On the other side of the wall, her world is breaking apart—and I’m not there.My hand slams against the panel.Once.Twice.Hard enough to crack bone if it were weaker.It doesn’t move.“She asked you to leave,” my assistant’s voice cuts through the comms. “Sir, you need to fall back—”“No.”My grip tightens around the small metal key she forced into my hand.Cold.Important.A message.Not goodbye.Never goodbye.Footsteps echo behind me. My men are closing in, waiting for orders.I don’t turn.I don’t think.I act.“Seal every exit except internal routes,” I say sharply. “No one gets out without my approval.”“Yes, sir.”“And find me the blueprint for this sector. There’s a hidden system here.”“There always is,” my assistant mutters.Good.Then I’ll break it.I move.Fast.The corridor twists, turns, narrows. My mind maps everything as I go—angles, distances, possible intersections.There’s always another way.There has to be.Because sh

“Get up.”Cold water slams into my face.My eyes snap open—instantly alert—instantly calculating.Pain follows a second later. My head throbs. My vision blurs, then sharpens.I’m restrained.Wrists locked behind the chair. Ankles secured. Metal. Tight.Expected.I lift my head slowly.And then—I see her.Standing across the room.Unbound.Untouched.Alive.Relief hits first.Sharp. Immediate.Then something else replaces it.Because she’s not looking at me the same way.Her expression is calm.Too calm.Controlled.Wrong.“Maria.”Her name leaves my mouth low, steady.She doesn’t answer immediately.Instead, she watches me.Like she’s deciding something.Like she already has.“You’re awake,” she says quietly.Something in her tone—flat.Careful.Not the same.“Are you hurt?” I ask.A pause.Then a small shake of her head.“No.”Good.That’s all that matters.“Come here.”It’s not a request.It never is.She doesn’t move.My jaw tightens slightly.“Maria.”“Don’t,” she says softly.

“Don’t—”Too late.She moves.Fast. Precise. No hesitation.I react instantly—step forward, block her path—but she twists past me like she anticipated it. Her shoulder clips mine, using my own momentum against me.Smart.Too smart.“Stop running,” I snap, turning sharply.“I’m not running,” she fires back, already moving toward the stairwell. “I’m leaving.”Same thing.I close the distance in two strides, grabbing her wrist before she can reach the door.Her body goes rigid.Not fear.Control.“Let go.”“No.”Her eyes flash.“I won’t ask again.”“Then don’t ask.”Silence hits hard between us.The kind that builds before something breaks.She exhales sharply, then suddenly pivots—her free hand coming up fast.I catch it.Barely.Her movement doesn’t stop there—she steps in, close, too close, using proximity as leverage. Her knee comes up—I shift.Block.Turn.Now she’s the one off balance.But I don’t throw her down.I don’t hurt her.And she knows it.Which is exactly why she’s still

The door explodes inward.Wood splinters. Metal screams. Voices flood the room.“On the ground!”Too late.I move first.Always.I drag her down with me as the first shot rips through the wall behind us. My arm wraps around her instinctively, shielding her, anchoring her.She doesn’t resist.Not this time.“Stay behind me,” I say.“I’m not weak,” she snaps—breath uneven, body trembling.“I didn’t say you were.”Another shot.Closer.Too close.I fire back—quick, controlled—forcing them to pull back just enough.Not enough to win.Enough to move.“We’re not holding this room,” I say. “We move.”She nods once.No argument.Good.We shift toward the side exit—tight, narrow, barely visible through the chaos. I kick the broken doorframe aside and pull her through just as bullets shred the space we were standing in.The hallway is darker.Quieter.Temporary.“Left,” she says.We go.Fast.Her steps falter once.Twice.The blood loss is catching up.I feel it.See it.Hate it.“You’re slowin

“Go!”Her voice cuts through the darkness as she shoves forward inside the shaft.Metal groans above us.“They’re opening it—move!”I don’t hesitate.We crawl fast—too fast for the tight space—elbows scraping, breath sharp, every movement restricted and urgent.Behind us—a loud clang.The panel rips open.Light floods in.“They’re here!”Voices echo.Closer.Too close.“She went this way!”A hand reaches in—I grab it—twist—a sharp crack—a scream—then silence.But it buys us seconds.Nothing more.“Faster,” I say.“I am,” she snaps—but her voice is thinner now. Strained.I feel it.The delay.The weakness creeping in.“Maria—”“I said I’m moving.”But her arm trembles against mine.Her breathing turns uneven.And then—she stops.Just—stops.Everything inside me locks.“Move,” I say.She doesn’t.“Maria.”Nothing.I shift forward, trying to see her in the darkness.Her head is lowered.Her shoulders shaking.Not from the crawl.Not from the fight.Something else.“Hey.”No respo