Page 27 of Forbidden Access

Her attacker was light, agile, and definitely a woman. Thorn’s mind raced as she grappled with her, trying to assess the situation. This wasn’t a professional hit—the woman’s movements were too frenzied, too untrained. But she was strong, driven by a wild, almost feral energy.

They struggled on the ground, rolling over the damp grass. Thorn felt sharp nails rake across her neck, drawing blood, and she gritted her teeth against the pain. Who was this woman? An obsessed fan? Her mind flashed to the worst-case scenarios as she fought to regain control.

“Who are you?” the woman spat, her voice thick with venom. “What are you really doing here?” Her nails slashed out again, this time aiming for Thorn’s face.

Thorn ducked, barely avoiding the swipe. What the hell was going on? Her training kicked in as she twisted her body, using her legs to throw the woman off balance. They rolled again, and Thorn managed to land a solid punch to the woman’s ribs, eliciting a sharp grunt. But instead of slowing down, the woman seemed to grow more enraged, her attacks becoming even more wild and erratic.

Thorn was losing patience. This was turning into a catfight, and she wasn’t about to be dragged down to that level. She needed to end this now, before things got even more out of hand.

With a surge of strength, Thorn threw the woman off her and scrambled to her feet, muscles coiled and ready. Her opponent was up just as quickly, circling Thorn with a predatory gleam in her eyes. Thorn wiped a trickle of blood from her neck, feeling the sting of the scratches.

“I could ask you the same question,” Thorn shot back, her voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

The woman lunged again, but this time Thorn was ready. She sidestepped the attack, allowing the woman to stumble past her before grabbing her by the arm and twisting it behind her back. The woman cried out, but Thorn wasn’t in the mood for sympathy.

Seriously, who was this crazy woman? Was she just some unhinged fan, fixated on Damian? Thorn knew Damian had his share of admirers, women who loved the bad-boy-turned-billionaire image. But this was different. This woman wasn’t just infatuated—she was dangerous.

The woman swung around wildly, trying to land a hit, but Thorn easily blocked her with a firm push to the shoulder, sending her staggering backward. Thorn didn’t waste any time. She followed up with a controlled sweep to the legs, knocking the woman to the ground.

Enough was enough.

Thorn pounced, pinning the woman down with a knee to her chest. The woman struggled beneath her, but Thorn’s strength and training easily overpowered her. She straddled the woman, pressing her down into the damp grass. The woman’s chest heaved with exertion—or was it fury?—as she glared up at Thorn through the slits in her balaclava.

“Take off the hood,” Thorn demanded, her voice icy and unyielding. Her breathing was controlled, steady—unlike her attacker, who was clearly spent.

The woman glared at her, defiance burning in her molten brown eyes. When she didn’t move, Thorn reached down and yanked the hood off herself, ready for anything.

A tumble of wild blonde hair spilled out, framing a furious, familiar face.

Thorn’s breath caught in her throat.

“Christine?”

The shock rippled through her like a tidal wave, almost knocking the breath from her lungs. Damian’s personal assistant, the woman who had quit just days ago, was the last person Thorn expected to see under that hood.

Christine’s face twisted with rage and something else—betrayal. “You think you can just waltz into his life and take what’s mine?” she hissed, her voice laced with bitterness.

Thorn’s mind raced, trying to piece together what the hell was going on. “What are you talking about?” she demanded, though a part of her already knew. Christine wasn’t just angry—she was jealous, unhinged.

“Damian was mine!” Christine spat, her eyes wild. “He was supposed to marry me, not some... bodyguard.”

Thorn’s heart pounded in her chest as the pieces clicked into place. Christine’s jealousy had driven her to this, to attack the very person she saw as her replacement. Thorn stared down at her, seeing the fury in Christine’s eyes and her gut twisted.

But she wasn’t going to get sentimental.

With a swift, decisive move, she tightened her grip, holding Christine immobile. “You’re making a mistake, Christine,” she said, her voice even, but not unsympathetic. “This isn’t the way.”

But Christine was too far gone to listen. Before Thorn could react, Christine bucked wildly beneath her, her fingers clawing at Thorn’s arms, scratching deep. Thorn hissed in pain but held firm, refusing to let go. She needed to keep control, to stop this from spiraling further out of control.

With a final, powerful shove, Thorn forced Christine’s hands down, pinning them to the ground. “Enough!” she growled, her voice carrying an authority that left no room for argument.

Christine froze, her chest heaving as she glared up at Thorn, her eyes filled with rage and something else—desperation. “I saw you,” Christine whispered, her voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

Thorn frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The kiss,” Christine said, her voice breaking. “Through the window. I saw it all.” The bitterness in her voice cut through the night air, sharp and raw.

Thorn’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t realized anyone was watching. “Christine, I?—”

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