He Chose His Bastard Over Our Baby - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Darius hauled me outside, his fingers digging into my wrist like a vice as he dragged me toward his car. His face was unreadable—hard as granite, jaw clenched so tight I swore I could hear his teeth grinding.
"Let go," I hissed, wrenching my arm, but his grip didn't budge. "You're acting like some overprotective bodyguard."
He didn't slow down. Didn't even flinch.
"I'm acting like the only damn person who cares if you live or die," he snarled, wrenching the car door open and shoving me inside.
I barely had time to shoot him a glare before he slammed the door and stalked around to the driver's side.
Ronan was already in the backseat, silent, his expression giving nothing away.
The second the engine roared to life, I spat, "You had no right to step in."
Darius barked a sharp, humorless laugh. "No right? Listen to yourself, Valeria. Lorenzo's losing it. He's off the rails, and instead of cutting him loose, you're feeding his goddamn obsession."
I narrowed my eyes. "I can handle him."
His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "No. You can't."
I opened my mouth to fire back, but he floored the gas, tearing through the streets like a man possessed.
"You're playing with fire," he muttered. "Pushing him, seeing how far he'll snap. And when he finally breaks? You think he won't take you down with him?"
I clenched my fists, refusing to back down.
"Lorenzo won't kill me," I said.
Darius scoffed. "You think death's the worst he can do?"
The car fell dead silent, the air thick enough to choke on.
In the rearview, Ronan let out a slow breath.
"You should listen to him, Val," he muttered.
I turned toward the window, watching the city blur past, ignoring the—
I was halfway to my office when the first bullet whizzed past my head.
The second grazed my shoulder.
Pain exploded through me, white-hot and searing, but I didn't freeze. I hit the pavement, rolling behind a dumpster just as more gunfire shattered the night, the echoes ricocheting off the alley walls.
Three men. Armed. Fast.
I sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. My knife was already in my grip.
They weren't here to scare me.
They were here to bury me.
Footsteps closed in.
Wait. Count the steps.
One… two… three—
I lunged.
The first guy never saw me coming.
I buried my blade in his throat, twisting hard before ripping it free. Blood sprayed, hot and metallic, as he gagged and crumpled.
The second one spun, gun raised.
I kicked it from his hands, sending it skidding across the concrete. But he was fast—his fist cracked into my ribs before I could block. A sickening snap. My vision swam.
I gasped but forced myself to stay upright. Stay sharp.
I grabbed his wrist, wrenching it until bone snapped. His scream cut short—I drove my elbow into his face, shattering his nose, then finished him with a brutal stab to the chest.
Two down.
Then a third body slammed into me from behind.
I crashed into the wall, my skull bouncing off the brick. Stars burst behind my eyes. A cold barrel pressed against my temple.
My breath hitched.
"Say goodnight, bitch," he sneered.
Then—gunfire.
A body hit the ground. Then another. And another.
Silence.
I forced my eyes open, vision swimming, lungs burning.
And then I saw him.
Darius.
Gun in hand. Fury in his eyes.
He stepped over the corpses like they were nothing, his presence swallowing the entire alley.
Before I could move, he was on me.
His hand shot out, grabbing my arm. He hauled me up, slamming me back against the wall.
His grip was iron. His body pressed into mine, the heat of him searing through the pain.
His chest heaved with ragged, furious breaths.
"What the hell were you thinking?" His voice was a growl, barely leashed. "You could've died!"
I met his glare, pulse hammering. "I handled it."
His grip tightened. "You were bleeding out on the damn pavement, Valeria. That's not handling it."
For the first time, I saw something beneath the rage. Something raw.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
And that terrified me more than the bullets ever could.
I swallowed. "Why do you care so much?"
He exhaled sharply, fingers twitching against my wrists.
"Because you're not just some pawn in Lorenzo's sick game," he said, voice low. "Because—"
He stopped.
But I already knew.
Because Ronan had told me before.
Darius had learned to love me.
My breath caught, and for once, I had no words.
Then my phone buzzed.
I glanced down, stomach twisting at the unknown number.
I answered.
A distorted voice filled the line.
"You should've died tonight, bitch. But don't worry—next time, I'll make sure they finish the job."
The call ended.
My fingers clenched around the phone.
Darius watched me carefully. "Who was that?"
I met his gaze, something cold settling in my chest.
"Isabella," I whispered.
She wasn't just desperate.
She was gunning for me.
Darius dragged a hand down his face. "This is exactly what I meant. You need to walk away before this gets worse."
I stared at him.
Then I laughed.
Cold. Hollow.
"Walk away?" I tilted my head, voice dripping with venom.
"No, Darius." I held his gaze, my words sharp as steel.
"I'm ending this."