Chapter 159
ISABELLA
“You really think you can run from me?” Julian’s voice was venom, his spit hot against my cheek as he shook me so violently the world blurred.
Terror hollowed me out. My strength drained, leaving only raw desperation.
“Just let me fuck you, baby,” he hissed, his hand sliding down my dress, fingers digging cruelly into my thigh. I sobbed into his palm, thrashing, collapsing under the weight of fear. “I promise you would love my cock…”
And then—
The door burst open.
Levi.
He stormed inside, Jenna trailing behind him, her face pale. His eyes locked on me—my teary eyes, the fear in them—then snapped to Julian, and the fury in them froze the air itself.
Before Julian could register his presence, Levi lunged. He tore him off me with brutal force, hurling him against the tiled wall so hard the mirror rattled.
I collapsed against the counter, trembling, lungs burning. My cheek still stung from Julian’s slap, my arms ached from his grip. If Levi had been a minute later… I couldn’t even finish the thought.
Levi’s fist cracked across Julian’s jaw. Once. Twice. Over and over. Knuckles slammed into flesh with a rhythm that felt less like fighting and more like slaughter. Julian groaned, gurgled, his nose bursting, his face splitting open beneath Levi’s rage. He had no fighting chance—couldn’t even throw a blow—just put his hands over his head to reduce the assault, but it didn’t stop.
I could only watch, frozen, tears cutting down my cheeks, my body quaking with the terror of what almost happened—and the sheer violence happening now.
Jenna hovered in the doorway, her expression twisted—half horror, half something else. Regret? Frustration? She’d played a part in this, I could feel it, though I didn’t yet know how deep her hand was in it. Whatever her game was, it had detonated in her face.
“How dare you touch my wife!” Levi’s roar split the bathroom, animalistic, each word punctuated by the thud of his fists. “MY. WIFE.”
I flinched with every strike. Julian’s blood sprayed across the white tile, a tooth skittering across the floor. He was unrecognizable—no longer smug, no longer a predator, but prey.
Finally, Levi let him fall. Julian slumped to the ground, broken, barely breathing. Levi stood over him, chest heaving, hands shaking from the violence he’d unleashed. Then—his gaze turned to me.
He crossed the room in three strides, his fury softening the instant he touched me. His hands cradled my face, thumbs brushing tears from my cheeks, his eyes wild but breaking.
“Bella…” His voice cracked, raw, as though the word itself had nearly been ripped from his throat.
I couldn’t answer. My throat was shredded from screaming. My breath came in shallow bursts, tears blurring my vision. My cheek burned, my arms throbbed—but all I could do was bury myself in his chest, clutching him like he was the only thing holding me upright. The only reason I was breathing.
His scent grounded me, his arms wrapped me whole, and for the first time since Julian touched me, I could breathe.
Levi tore off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders, shielding me. But the rage hadn’t left him—it simmered beneath the surface, volcanic.
Without warning, he turned back, grabbed Julian by the collar, and dragged him out of the bathroom like he weighed nothing.
I stumbled after them, my body trembling, my mind a blur. The hallway swallowed us, the thrum of music growing louder, voices laughing, oblivious—until Levi shoved Julian into the heart of the party.
And then everything changed.
The music faltered. Conversations died. Glasses froze midair.
Levi, blood-spattered and feral, dragged Julian into the center of the room. The chandeliers caught every inch of Julian’s ruined face. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Levi wanted them to see. All of them. The guests, the media, the investors, his father, the host—it didn’t matter.
He hurled Julian to the floor and descended again, pounding his face until the crowd recoiled, until whispers hissed like smoke through the air.
Then Levi rose, chest heaving, his voice a roar of thunder that silenced everything.
“Don’t you ever—ever—lay a hand on my wife again!”
His eyes swept the room, daring anyone to look away, daring anyone to test him. His voice dropped, darker, sharper, deadlier.
“And this goes for every single one of you bastards. If any of you so much as think about touching her—” he jabbed a bloodied finger at Julian’s crumpled body—“this will be you. I’ll make you pay in ways you’ll never crawl back from.”
He hauled me tighter against his side, possessive, absolute. His eyes still burned, voice breaking with rage as he thundered one last time:
“She’s mine. Mine.”
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