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Chapter 831:
“You think he’s a deposed king?” Lucas continued. “He’s not. He’s a wounded, maddened wolf disguising himself as something harmless. He’s letting her go because he believes he doesn’t deserve her.” He looked directly into Crawford’s eyes. “The moment he thinks June is in danger — or that any man, including you, dares to come near her — he will tear you apart without hesitation, even if it means taking on the entire world. The heir to the Compton fortune didn’t get there by playing nice. Competing with him isn’t business. It’s a blood sport p>
Crawford was silent, his mind working quickly. Cole was not indifferent. He was not gone. He was biding his time, burning quietly from the inside. That raised the stakes considerably.
But it also made June infinitely more precious in his eyes. A woman capable of driving a man like Cole Compton to this kind of ruin had to be utterly singular.
Rather than retreat, Crawford felt something fierce and possessive ignite behind his eyes.
𝘉е 𝘵𝗁e fi𝘳ѕ𝘵 𝘁o 𝗋eаd o𝗻
“Thank you for the advice, Lucas,” he said slowly. Then a cold smile spread across his face. “But since he chose to let her go, the rules of the game have changed. Now — it’s a fair fight p>
His tone was full of deliberate challenge. He was going to provoke that wounded wolf. He was going to take the one thing Cole valued most, and do it in plain sight.
Lucas watched him leave and exhaled slowly, muttering to himself, “A madman. Another madman. New York is in for a storm.” He picked up the phone. “Monitor the Compton and Love stocks for me. Set the highest-level alert p>
June saw Easton off in the lobby. His driver arrived just in time to collect him. She declined Easton’s suggestion to wait inside, wanting the cold air to clear her head, still muddled by champagne and ambiguity.
She stood alone under the building’s awning, watching the snow fall. She opened a ride-share app and typed in Vera’s address — she didn’t want to be alone tonight. The app showed a black Lincoln arriving in three minutes.
In the shadows of a nearby corner, inside a nondescript van, a man with a scarred face watched June through binoculars. “Target has placed an order,” a voice crackled through his radio. “Prepare to move p>
Two blocks away, Crawford hadn’t gone far. He had his driver park in a discreet spot, watching a live feed from a private investigator monitoring June’s building. He saw Easton leave. He saw June standing alone in the snow. An inexplicable tightness gripped his chest. He told himself he was simply making sure she got home safely. He didn’t believe it.
A black Lincoln pulled up before the app’s timer had even expired. The license plate matched the one on her phone. The driver, wearing a cap and a mask, rolled down the window. His voice was hoarse. “For Vera, in Queens p>
June hesitated. She was going to Vera’s — but Vera didn’t live in Queens. A flicker of unease moved through her. The champagne had dulled her reflexes, though, and she assumed she had entered the address incorrectly.
Before she could cancel the ride, the driver was already out of the car, holding the rear door open. “Miss, it’s cold. Please, get in p>
A force shoved her into the back seat. The door slammed and locked. June’s stomach dropped. A sharp, chemical odor hit her immediately. She knew at once — she screamed and clawed at the door, but it held fast.