Derek stood tall and completely still. The large iron gates behind him were open. He had ridden straight in. The snow was falling steadily, landing on his broad shoulders and his dark winter cloak. He held his heavy longsword in his right hand. The polished steel glead in the light of the wall torches.
He looked incredibly dangerous. His face was a mask of cold, hard fury. His dark eyes bypassed all the guards with swords and locked directly onto the man holding his wife.
Imdiately, as Marissa saw Derek standing there in the snow, the terrible fear in her chest vanished. Her tense muscles relaxed just a fraction. A small, genuine smile broke through the dirt and despair on her face. He had co for her. He had kept his promise.
"Derek," Marissa whispered softly. The single word held all her love and all her relief.
Prince Liam looked at the Grand Duke standing alone in the snow. Liam’s red, stinging eyes narrowed, but a highly amused smirk appeared on his face. He felt totally secure. Derek was one man against forty royal guards.
"Well, well, well," Liam said, his voice loud and mocking. He did not let go of Marissa. He kept her pinned tightly against him, using her as a shield and a prize.
"You dare barge into my residence alone," Liam called out, laughing a little. "I must say, Derek, you have quite the nerve. Or perhaps you are just completely stupid."
Derek did not care about the forty swords pointing at him. He did not care about the snow or the cold. He only saw the monster holding his wife.
Derek raised his sword slightly. His voice bood across the courtyard, loud enough to shake the snow from the trees.
"Release her now!" Derek shouted. His command was absolute. It was the voice of a man who commanded armies.
Liam did not flinch. He just smiled wider.
"Why should I?" Liam replied arrogantly. He squeezed Marissa’s waist tighter, making sure Derek saw exactly who was in control.
"Look around you, Cousin," Liam taunted, gesturing with his head to the circle of guards. "You are completely surrounded. You walked right into my ho. With just one simple order from , tonight, neither of you will leave this place alive. My n will cut you down where you stand."
To prove his total control, Liam lowered his head again. He deliberately nuzzled his face into the crook of Marissa’s neck, rubbing his nose against her soft skin. He wanted to provoke Derek. He wanted to see the Grand Duke lose his mind.
Liam spoke again, making his voice loud enough for Derek to hear clearly over the wind.
"Should I spare your husband, Marissa?" Liam asked her playfully, mocking her earlier defiance. "He looks very brave standing out there in the cold. Beg if you want him to live. Get on your knees and ask for my rcy, and maybe I will just throw him in the dungeon instead of killing him."
Marissa remained completely silent.
She did not struggle. She did not cry. She did not open her mouth to beg.
She looked at Derek. She saw the quiet intelligence behind his angry eyes. She knew her husband better than anyone. Derek would never walk into a trap blindly. He would never co here alone unless he had a plan. He had Ian. He had the shadow guards. He had evidence. If he ca alone even with all these things, it could only an one thing. He was stalling.
Liam waited for her to cry, to plead for her husband’s life. When she did nothing, his smile faded slightly. He was annoyed.
He chuckled, a dry, bitter sound.
"I have forgotten," Liam said, shaking his head. "You do have an ego ant for a man, Marissa. You are too proud. You would never beg or show weakness, even when the man you love is about to die."
He looked back up at Derek. Derek was seething. The Grand Duke’s grip on his sword was so tight his leather gloves squeaked. The veins in Derek’s neck were bulging. He was a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap.
Liam loved it. He loved seeing the untouchable Grand Duke of Denver looking so desperate and helpless. He wanted to break Derek’s spirit completely before he killed him. He wanted to inflict the ultimate ntal torture.
A new, incredibly twisted idea ford in Liam’s sick mind. He let out a slow, cruel smile.
"You know, Derek," Liam called out, his voice dripping with evil intent. "I was going to take her to my bedroom. I had the bed covered in rose petals, just for her."
Liam shifted his grip, pulling Marissa even closer, pressing his hips against her back.
"But seeing you stand there, so angry, so helpless..." Liam mused loudly.
He leaned his head down next to Marissa’s ear, but kept his eyes locked onto Derek’s.
"What if I take her right here?" Liam threatened. His voice was dark and vile. "Right here in the snow. What if I strip her naked and take her right in front of you? Let you watch while I make her mine."
Marissa’s eyes widened in absolute shock and horror. Her breath caught in her throat. Her small smile vanished instantly. She tried to pull away from him, her heart hamring in panic. The sheer depravity of the threat made her feel sick to her stomach.
Derek heard the words.
The last thin thread of control holding Derek back snapped completely. The cool logic, the careful planning, the need to stall for ti—it all vanished in an explosion of pure, white-hot, uncontrollable rage.
His eyes turned black. He did not care about the forty swords. He did not care if he died.
Derek gripped his sword with both hands. He took a massive step forward, his boots crushing the snow.
His voice bood like a crack of thunder, shaking the very walls of the manor.
"LIAM!!!!"
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