Page 72 of Savage Obsession

The air between us crackles with tension, thick and suffocating.

I take a single step forward. “She isn’t yours. And she never will be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Lazaro sneers. “The funny thing is, I should’ve been rid of you years ago when I had the chance. Did you know I orchestrated your first wife’s death?”

My blood runs cold.

He chuckles. “Poor little woman. Didn’t even see it coming. Neither did their kid. And you? You were too blinded by grief to realize you’ve played right into my hands.”

Rage ignites inside me.

This man. This little monster. He’s been lurking in the shadows, playing God, pulling strings, orchestrating deaths.

And now, he’s going to fucking pay for every single one.

Before I could lunge at him, he yanks Yelena up, an arm snaking around her throat, his gun pressing to her temple.

Everything inside me stills. The world tunnels, narrowing down to the barrel of the gun against my wife’s skin. A primal, bone-deep rage mixed with fear rises from the pit of my soul, clawing its way out with brutal intent.

Lazaro chuckles, amused by the murderous fury on my face. “How does it feel, Aithan? Knowing she’s about to die because of you?”

My lips part, words forming, but before I can say anything—

Yelena moves.

Like a viper striking, she slams her heel down on Lazaro’s foot. He stumbles back with a curse, his grip loosening just enough, and she breaks free from his grasp.

I don’t waste a second.

I raise my gun and fire.

The bullet pierces his knee, sending him crashing to the ground with a guttural scream. His gun clatters to the floor. His men outside have been taken care of, and the two inside try to run. I do not bother to go after them, knowing Leon and the men outside will handle them.

Yelena breathes heavily, her chest rising and falling with adrenaline as she watches Lazaro writhe in pain. She looks at me then, something unreadable in her gaze, before she takes a shaky step back.

Lazaro groans, clutching his bleeding leg, cursing between clenched teeth. “You—”

I don’t let him finish. I step forward, pressing my gun to his forehead.

“You stole from me,” I say, my voice low, lethal. “You betrayed my family. You tried to take my wife.” My teeth grind together, my grip tightening around the gun. “And for that, you die.”

He glares up at me, hate in his eyes. “All you had to do was marry my daughter, and everything would have been perfect. My family would have ruled alongside yours.”

I lean in closer, my lips curling into a smirk. “It’s a pity you will never get the position you crave.”

I pull the trigger.

Blood splatters across the floor as Lazaro’s body slumps backward and lifeless.

I exhale, my grip on the gun loosening only slightly. My gaze shifts to Yelena, who is watching me, her expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The weight of what just happened—of what could have happened—settling between us.

Then Yelena takes a step forward. And then another. Until she’s right in front of me.

She reaches up, brushing a blood-splattered hand across my jaw, her fingers trembling slightly. “You found me,” she whispers.

I cup the back of her neck, my hold firm, grounding her. “I will always find you.”

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