“I need to talk to her,” Alexander said, his voice low but firm, as he faced the two security guards blocking his way into the church. He could feel the cold sweat running down his back, a mix of nerves and determination. This was the moment. There was no going back now.
The guards didn’t budge. “You can’t go in, sir. No exceptions,” one of them said, his tone flat, uninterested in any excuse.
Alexander’s jaw clenched. He knew these men weren’t going to let him pass with words alone. The tension in the air was thick, and with every passing second, the ceremony was getting closer to its disastrous conclusion. Elena was still trapped inside, and Rafael’s grip on her was tightening with each breath she took.
“I’m not asking,” Alexander snapped, his eyes narrowing, his fingers curling into fists. He could feel the rage bubbling up inside him. He wasn’t going to let anything stop him from getting to Elena—not now, not when he was so close.
The guards barely had time to react. Before they could raise their hands or speak another word, Alexander was on them, a blur of fast and calculated moves. His body moved like a predator in the night—quick, precise, and lethal. He struck first, catching one of the men in the stomach with a powerful punch. The man gasped for air, stumbling back before crashing to the floor.
The second guard reached for his earpiece, but Alexander was already on him, grabbing his wrist and twisting it hard. The guard yelped in pain, and before he could fight back, Alexander shoved him against the wall, his knees pressing into the man’s back, pinning him down.
It was over in seconds. Alexander stood over them, breathing heavily but unfazed. He didn’t have time to relish the victory. There was no room for hesitation. He needed to be with Elena—now.
He pushed past the unconscious bodies of Rafael’s men, striding toward the heavy church doors. His heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts racing. He had to get to her. He had to stop the wedding. He couldn’t let Rafael win.
Inside, the church was even grander than he imagined. The stained glass windows reflected muted light across the room, casting eerie shadows on the marble floors. The guests were seated in neat rows, some glancing around nervously, others whispering to one another, unaware of the storm brewing just outside the doors.
Alexander’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Elena. His breath caught in his throat when he spotted her. There she was, standing at the altar in her white wedding dress, looking like an angel trapped in hell. But her eyes—those eyes—were different today. There was something in them that wasn’t there before. Something that made Alexander believe she hadn’t given up. She was still fighting.
The officiant was speaking, the sound of his voice carrying through the room, but Alexander couldn’t focus on the words. His entire world narrowed down to Elena, and the terrifying realization that if he didn’t act fast, she would become Rafael’s property forever.
He took a step forward, then another, moving quietly down the aisle, his eyes locked on hers. Her gaze flickered over him, and for just a moment, he saw something in her expression—a flicker of hope, of recognition. But before he could take another step, something stopped him.
Rafael.
The man stood tall, his dark eyes scanning the room, an air of smug satisfaction about him. He was watching Elena, his hand casually resting on her waist as if he already owned her—because, in his mind, he did.
Alexander’s hands balled into fists, his jaw clenching. This was it. This was the moment he’d been dreading. Rafael was closer to Elena than ever, and he was not going to let her go without a fight.
But just as Alexander was about to make his move, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Elena’s hand lifted, holding the bouquet in front of her. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she didn’t let go. She was holding on.
For a split second, Alexander allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could get out of this together. But then, Rafael moved.
With a smug grin, Rafael pulled Elena closer, his fingers curling around her jaw. His lips met hers in a kiss that felt like a declaration of war.
It was nothing like the kiss of love. No, this was ownership. This was Rafael marking her as his, in front of everyone, sealing the deal in a way that made Alexander’s blood boil.