Chapter 74: When You Assault the Wrong Man’s Husband

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Richard looked at him as though he had spoken another language entirely. "I will not apologize to my own son!"

"Then apologize to the Don’s Omega."

"Hell no! I will do no such thing!"

Blair was crying now, the sound more theatrical than the earlier tears, though I couldn’t tell how much of it was genuine and how much was for effect.

Lydia stood beside her with both hands pressed against her mouth, her eyes wide and fixed on the scene as if she could not quite believe it was happening.

"This is unbelievable," Blair whispered, the words barely audible. "Alex has turned everyone against us..."

I turned toward her, the residual adrenaline making my voice sharper than I intended. "Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up?"

Richard was still struggling against the guards, the effort undignified and increasingly desperate.

"You incompetent morons making a big mistake!" he said, the words directed at anyone who might listen. "Lorenzo won’t tolerate this. I’m his father-in-law!"

The room changed, not because anyone had spoken. Because footsteps sounded in the corridor, the measured rhythm cutting through the residual noise of struggle and tears.

The guards immediately straightened, their attention shifting with the instinctive recognition of hierarchy. Richard stopped struggling, the fight draining out of him as the sound approached.

My stomach dropped with a certainty that had nothing to do with the residual pain in my face.

I knew those footsteps.

The door opened and Lorenzo walked in. He was still dressed for whatever meeting had pulled him away earlier, his dark suit immaculate, the lines of it sharp and controlled, his expression unreadable in the way that always made the people around him pay closer attention.

His gaze moved across the room with deliberate thoroughness. Richard on his knees, two guards holding him, Blair crying with increasing volume and Lydia pale and frozen beside her daughter.

Then Lorenzo looked at me. His eyes stopped on my cheek, lingering on the fresh mark that sat over the older bruise, the blood at the corner of my mouth, the way I was still standing against the wall as if the surface might offer some kind of support.

Something changed in his face.

There was no shouting from Lorenzo, no visible explosion of anger. If anything, he became calmer, the stillness settling over him like a second skin and his gaze moved to the blood at the corner of my mouth.

Then to my neck where the marks from the previous night were still visible beneath the collar of my shirt, then to the way I was standing against the wall with my shoulder still aching from the impact.

Finally, he looked at Father, the full weight of his attention settling on the man on his knees.

"You touched him?"

Nobody answered, then Richard swallowed, the sound audible in the quiet. "It...it was just a m–misunderstanding."

Lorenzo’s hand moved toward the weapon at his side.

"Dracula," I whispered, the name catching somewhere between warning and plea.

He drew the gun and the movement was smooth and almost casual, the kind of practiced ease that came from long familiarity with the weight of it.

As if drawing out a gun and pointing at your father in law was just something you did on a regular Sunday afternoon.

Then he raised it, the barrel pointed directly at Richard’s head, the line of it steady and without tremor.

Everything stopped as Father’s face drained of color so quickly it was almost startling, the earlier fury replaced by something closer to genuine fear.

"Mr...Mr. Castelli." His voice cracked, the authority that had carried him through the earlier argument suddenly absent. "This isn’t what it looks like!"

Lorenzo said nothing. Richard began shaking his head, the motion frantic.

"I swear, it was a little misunderstanding! Alex attacked me first. He—he’s emotional. He’s been through a lot, I was just trying to discipline him!"

I stared at the gun, the dark metal catching the light from the windows.

My relief at seeing Lorenzo had arrived so quickly that I hadn’t even realized how badly I had needed him there until that moment, the presence of him cutting through the residual fear like something solid and reliable.

Then fear followed, different from the earlier kind.

Fear of what Lorenzo might do with that gun, of the line that was currently being drawn in the air between us and the man on his knees.

Richard was his father-in-law, a title that should have carried some weight even in a house like this.

I had seen what Lorenzo did to people who threatened his family.

I had seen blood on his hands in the aftermath of decisions that left no room for second chances.

I had heard screams from behind closed doors, the sounds carefully contained but never entirely erased from memory.

And now the man responsible for those screams was standing in my room with a gun aimed at my father, the barrel steady and the silence around it absolute.

Lorenzo’s arm remained perfectly steady. Richard dropped his gaze to the weapon, the earlier defiance replaced by something smaller.

"You wouldn’t shoot me," he whispered, the words barely carrying. "I’m your father-in-law!"

’No Father... that’s what you don’t understand. He totally would.’ I thought.

Lorenzo finally spoke. His voice was so quiet that everyone in the room seemed to lean toward it, the words landing with a weight that made the air itself feel heavier.

"You put your hands on my Omega."

Richard’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. The silence that followed was complete, the kind that made every breath feel too loud. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe properly.

And I stood there with my bruised cheek burning and my heart pounding against my ribs, staring at the man I had spent months trying to escape from, suddenly realizing that the person standing between me and the worst parts of my past was also capable of becoming something far more frightening than my past had ever been.

The gun remained pointed at Richard’s head as Lorenzo said to him.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you live."