Page 203 of The Owner's Temptation

It’s subtle at first—a faint chill in the air despite the warmth of the sun, the hush of an empty hangar that should be alive with the quiet bustle of pre-flight activity.

There’s no jet waiting, no crew in uniform, not even the soft murmur of idle conversation. Just silence and steel and the unmistakable sense that I’ve walked into something I can’t quite see.

My gaze shifts back to Felix’s SUV just as he eases away, calm and deliberate, like it’s any other day. Because it should be.

I’m sure he’s dropped many companions off for their contract. Why should this one be any different?

But somethingiswrong.

And I realize that far too late.

A rush of movement hits me from the side. Before I can react, a powerful hand slams into me and shoves me backward, hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.

My back collides with the wall of the hangar, the cold metal rattling behind me as a body pins mine with brutal force. Fingers grip my jaw. My throat.

Dominic is in my face.

But the polished, composed man I met at the luncheon is nowhere to be found.

The man holding me now is unhinged—eyes bloodshot and wild, face twisted with a fury so volatile it takes me a second to even recognize him.

His breath comes fast and sharp through clenched teeth, and I feel the tremble in his fingers as they clamp around my throat.

"Where the fuck is my son?” he snarls, tightening his grip until my breath comes in short, desperate gasps. “You think I don’t know Lucian has him?”

I try to shake my head no. That he’s wrong. That I don’t know anything he’s talking about. I claw at his wrists, but he doesn’t budge. His voice rises, a manic edge creeping into every word.

“You’re not just one of Lucian’s girls. You’rehis.His fuckingwhore.”

The word lands like a slap, but it’s the next that makes my blood run cold.

“He has my son,” Dominic growls, spittle dotting my cheek as he leans in, the madness in his eyes nearly vibrating. “Lucian Vale took him from me—so I’m taking something from him in return?”

The grip around my throat tightens. My lungs scream. Panic surges. I flail against him, desperate now.

I slam my first into his throat—sharp and vicious. He chokes, breath gasping, just long enough for me to claw my nails down the side of his face with everything I have. Four angry red lines bloom instantly, blood beading along his cheekbone.

He stumbles back, howling, and I run.

I don’t look back. I just run.

“Help!” I shout, lungs burning as I sprint across the open stretch of tarmac. “Felix—somebody help!”

My arms wave wildly, my voice breaking on his name, but the SUV keeps moving. Smooth. Steady. Unaware.

Please Felix. Just look in the fucking mirror.

If he would just glance… just once…

But he doesn’t.

Behind me, I hear footsteps—fast, heavy, too close. The sound spurs me faster, though my shoes weren’t made for this. The moment my wedge catches on the edge of the pavement, my ankle twist painfully beneath me.

My body pitches forward.

And just as I scream, a heavy force collides with me from behind.

The impact knocks me off my feet, slamming me into the concrete. My knees hit first. Then my shoulder.

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