Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO Chapter 86: Classic King

I woke up with distinct feeling that soone had taken a cheese grater to my side. The room was dim, all dark wood and heavy velvet drapes—classic King family aesthetic. Oppressive luxury with a side of paranoia.

The door creaked open, and for a second, my pulse spiked—but then Leo stepped inside, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms still smudged with my blood.

"Welco back to the land of the living," he said, voice rough. "You were out for twelve hours."

"Miss ?" I tried to smirk, but it ca out more like a wince.

Leo dragged a chair to my bedside and dropped into it, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. "Yes."

His simple answer surprised . So did the worry in his eyes.

I shifted, testing the limits of the painkillers. "Where’s my mother?"

"Planning how to burn down the city if you didn’t wake up," Leo muttered. "She’s got a war room downstairs. Maps, screens, ard guards—your uncle made his move, and she’s not playing defense anymore."

I exhaled. Of course she wasn’t. Victoria King didn’t do defense.

"She’s been in here every hour to check on you," Leo added, his voice quieter.

That made my chest tighten. My mother wasn’t the hovering type—unless things were bad.

Leo’s gaze dropped to my bandages, his jaw tightening.

"You didn’t have to carry ," I said lightly.

His head snapped up. "The hell I didn’t."

"Aw, you do care."

Leo exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was debating whether to strangle or kiss . (A man could dream.) Instead, he stood abruptly, pacing to the window before turning back.

He hesitated, then reached out, his fingers brushing my collarbone, just above the bandages. Warm. Steady. "Bullet holes are not a good look."

Before I could reply, the door burst open.

Charles stood there, grim-faced. "We’ve got company."

I groaned. "Let guess—black SUVs, ard to the teeth, and really tacky taste in henchn?"

"Bingo."

Leo hauled upright before I could protest, his arm locking around my waist. "Ti to go, Oliver."

I leaned into him, savoring the warmth despite the circumstances. "You know, if you wanted in your arms, you could’ve just asked."

Leo’s grip tightened. "Rember you said that."

As we stumbled into the hall, the sound of shattering glass echoed from downstairs.

Then—

"Oliver!"

My mother’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

I turned to see Victoria King striding toward us, her tailored coat flaring behind her, two ard guards at her heels. Her dark eyes locked onto , scanning for injuries, before shifting to Leo.

"Annison," she said, her voice sharp. "Keep him alive."

"I will."

My mother reached into her coat and pulled out a sleek, compact handgun, pressing it into my free hand. "Stay behind ."

I blinked. "Mom—"

"No argunts." Her voice left no room for debate. "You’re hurt. You don’t get to play hero right now."

Leo’s grip on tightened, like he agreed.

Victoria turned to Charles. "Get them to the garage. I’ll handle the rest."

"Alone?" I demanded.

She gave a look—one I knew well. The don’t-test- look. "I’ve survived worse than this."

Then she was moving, her guards falling in step behind her as she headed straight for the sound of gunfire.

Leo cursed under his breath and pulled toward the back staircase. "Co on, King. Your mom’s buying us ti."

I glanced back once, just in ti to see Victoria round the corner, gun raised—fearless, furious, and utterly unstoppable.

Exactly what our enemies should have feared most.

Leo half-dragged, half-carried down the back staircase, his grip unrelenting. Every step sent a fresh wave of fire through my ribs, but I bit down on the pain. Now wasn’t the ti to complain.

Charles led the way, his gun drawn, his usual smirk replaced by grim focus. The distant sound of gunfire and splintering wood echoed through the house like a storm rolling in.

"Garage is clear," Charles muttered, shoving open the service door at the bottom of the stairs. "For now."

The garage was a cavern of polished concrete and steel, lined with vehicles that cost more than most people made in a year. Leo steered toward a black SUV, its engine already running—courtesy of one of my mother’s ever-prepared security team.

I wrenched free of Leo’s hold, ignoring the way my vision swam. "We’re not leaving her."

Leo caught my arm before I could take two steps. "Oliver—"

"Let go." My voice was low. Dangerous.

For a second, his dark eyes searched mine. Then, with a frustrated growl, he released and turned to Charles. "Get the car ready. We’re going back in."

Charles hesitated. "Victoria said—"

"I don’t give a damn what she said," Leo snapped.

I didn’t wait. I was already moving back toward the stairs, gun in hand, pain be damned. Leo caught up in two strides, his own weapon drawn.

The house was chaos.

Smoke hung in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Broken glass crunched underfoot as we reached the main hall. The chandelier lay in shattered pieces across the marble floor, and the portrait of my grandfather—the one my mother refused to take down, despite his betrayal—had a fresh bullet hole through its center.

Poetic.

Then I saw her.

Victoria stood at the center of the fray, her coat streaked with dust and blood that wasn’t hers. Two of her guards were down, but the remaining three had ford a tight periter around her, firing at the shadows moving in from the shattered windows.

She turned just as we entered, her eyes flashing with fury. "I told you to leave!"

Leo didn’t waste ti with words. He raised his gun and fired—once, twice—dropping a masked figure who’d been advancing from the dining room.

Victoria’s lips pressed into a thin line, but there was sothing almost proud in her gaze before she turned back to the fight. "If you die, I’m disowning you."

The next few minutes blurred into gunfire and adrenaline.

Then—silence.

The last attacker fell, and for a heartbeat, the only sound was our ragged breathing.

Victoria lowered her gun, surveying the damage with cold detachnt. "Clean this up," she ordered her remaining guards. Then she turned to , her gaze dropping to the fresh blood seeping through my bandages. "Idiot."

Leo was at my side before I could retort, his arm slipping around my waist again as my knees buckled.

Mom stepped closer, her hand brushing my cheek—just once, barely there—before she turned to Leo. "Get him out of here."

Leo nodded.

I wanted to protest, but the edges of my vision were going dark again. The last thing I saw was my mother’s back as she strode away, already barking orders into her phone.

Then Leo’s voice, rough against my ear: "Don’t you dare pass out on , King."

I grinned weakly. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Annison."

And then—nothing.