Chapter 4: A Debt Paid in Blood

The silence between them crackled like an unspoken threat. Isabella’s breathing was uneven, her fists still clenched as she stood her ground.

Alexander Knight wasn’t just powerful—he was dangerous.

But the way he looked at her now, with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher, made her question what he really wanted from her.

She forced herself to break the tension. "You don’t have to protect me."

Alexander’s lips curved—not in a smile, but something colder.

"You don’t get to decide that."

Frustration burned in her veins. "I don’t want a bodyguard. I don’t want—"

"I don’t care what you want." His voice was calm but sharp, slicing through her words. "You are my wife, and that means something whether you accept it or not."

Her pulse spiked at the way he said wife, as if the word itself carried weight beyond the contract that bound them.

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, a knock echoed through the mansion.

Alexander’s expression hardened instantly.

Without a word, he turned and strode toward the door.

Something shifted in the air.

She had seen many sides of him already—the distant, unreadable husband, the man who spoke in half-truths—but this was different.

This was cold, ruthless control.

Isabella followed cautiously, stopping near the grand staircase as Alexander opened the massive doors.

Two men stood outside.

Both in black suits, their presence radiating quiet menace.

One of them was Damian Cross, Alexander’s right-hand man. She recognized him from the wedding, but the man beside him was a stranger—tall, grizzled, with a scar running down his left cheek.

And he looked afraid.

Not of her.

Of Alexander.

Damian was the one who spoke first. "Sir, we have a problem."

Alexander exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. "Handle it."

The scarred man, however, took a step forward, his voice shaking. "Please… I just need more time."

Isabella frowned. More time?

Her curiosity spiked, but her instincts screamed at her to stay silent.

Alexander regarded the man with eerie calm, the way a predator might watch prey that had already accepted its fate.

"Time is a privilege you lost when you made your choices, David."

David’s face paled.

"I—I swear, I was going to pay. I just needed a little more—"

"And yet, here you are, begging, instead of paying."

Isabella’s stomach twisted.

David wasn’t just anyone. He was someone who owed Alexander something.

Something serious.

She had no idea what her husband did outside of the public’s eye.

She had heard rumors—whispers of deals, of debts, of power that couldn’t be questioned.

But this?

This felt like something deeper. Darker.

Alexander tilted his head slightly, studying the man before him. "Damian, take care of it."

David flinched. "Please, Mr. Knight, I have a family—"

Alexander’s gaze didn’t waver.

"Then you should have thought of them before crossing me."

The cold finality in his tone sent a shiver down Isabella’s spine.

Damian nodded and grabbed David’s arm, dragging him away without another word. The man struggled at first, then stopped, as if realizing it was useless.

The doors shut.

Silence.

Isabella finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Who was he?"

Alexander didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he walked toward her, slow and measured, until he was close enough for her to feel his warmth.

Then he leaned down just slightly, his voice a low murmur.

"Do not ask questions about things you don’t want answers to."

Her heart pounded.

She should have been afraid.

But instead…

She found herself wanting to know more.

Because something told her—this was just the beginning.