Chapter 151 The Reckoning of Blood
Carlos Mason breached the final tier of the boarding stairs like a human demolition ball.
A Cordova mercenary lunged into his perimeter, but Carlos didn't even check the man's weapon line. He slammed his massive shoulder straight into the operative’s chest, throwing him over the iron railing into the freezing dark waters of the harbor below.
Carlos turned his gaze onto Daniel Cross, his dark eyes burning with an unyielding, predatory fire that completely stripped away any remaining trace of corporate executive decorum.
"Carlos!" Teresa cried out, her voice breaking as she fought against the ropes binding her wrists.
Cross panicked. Seeing Carlos closing the distance in massive, terrifying strides, Cross released Teresa’s arm and reached for the secure holster at his waist.
He was a millisecond too late.
Carlos closed the gap instantly, his large palm slamming onto Cross’s wrist with a bone-crushing force that caused the weapon to clatter uselessly against the iron deck.
Before Cross could even scream, Carlos grabbed him by the throat with his bare hand, lifting the syndicate leader completely off his boots and slamming him hard against the ship’s steel bulkhead walls.
"I told you," Carlos whispered, his voice dropping into a gravelly, lethal register that vibrated with an absolute protective fury. "I told you to take your hands off my wife."
"Carlos... stop... you'll kill him," Teresa’s voice sounded softly behind him, trembling but steady, acting as the lone anchor that could quiet the beast inside his chest.
Carlos stared at Cross’s suffocating, pale face for a long, agonizing beat. The raw rage inside his veins fought against the beautiful, grounding sound of Teresa’s voice. Slowly, deliberately, Carlos opened his hand, letting Cross collapse onto the deck in a pathetic, gasping heap.
Carlos turned around, his broad shoulders shaking as he dropped to his knees in front of Teresa.
His large, trembling fingers moved to manually rip the coarse ropes away from her bleeding wrists.
He didn't look at the helicopter, he didn't look at Dominic’s security teams, and he didn't look at the pier.
He simply pulled her fragile, shivering frame flush against his broad chest, burying his face in her dark hair as his tears finally spilled over.
"I'm sorry," Carlos choked out, his voice breaking with a devastating, raw angst. "I am so incredibly sorry, my love. The contract is dead. I don't want the throne. I just want you."