Signed To Be His Wife - Chapter 22: Chapter 22
You are reading Signed To Be His Wife, Chapter 22: Chapter 22. Read more chapters of Signed To Be His Wife.
The sun bled red over the Moroccan skyline as Amara stared out the helicopter window. Fez looked beautiful from above—ancient, glowing, steeped in legend. But beneath its narrow alleys and golden minarets, a monster waited.
Victor.
She tightened her grip on the armrest. Every lead, every sacrifice, had brought them here. This time, she wouldn’t leave without ending it.
Dominic sat beside her, jaw clenched. “Our last chance to do this right.”
She nodded. “Then let’s do it loud.”
They landed on the outskirts at dusk.
Tamara and Gideon had already set up base at an old textile warehouse, far from prying eyes. Nolan was surveilling the underground catacombs Victor used for transport—carved beneath the city centuries ago.
“He’s using a mosque as a cover,” Nolan explained, pointing at a grainy thermal scan. “The old Almoravid ruins. No civilian access. Surveillance is brutal. We’ll need stealth.”
“Or chaos,” Dominic added.
Amara’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll give him both.”
Victor stood deep within the underground vault. Clara beside him.
He stared at the vials. DNA-marked, tracking-enabled, lethal when needed.
“The world is watching now,” Clara said. “You can’t erase them all.”
Victor smirked. “Then I remind them who owns the silence.”
He handed her a phone.
“Send it to her.”
Amara’s phone vibrated as they geared up.
A video.
She hit play. Her blood froze.
It was her mother—tied to a chair. Bruised. Terrified.
Victor’s voice followed: “You want to expose me? Fine. But every truth costs a life. Let’s see how much you’re willing to pay.”
The video ended.
Amara didn’t cry.
She didn’t flinch.
She stood taller.
Dominic stepped forward, alarmed. “We’ll get her out.”
Amara’s voice was steel. “No. We end him first. Then we save her. If we don’t end this now, he’ll always find another hostage.”
Gideon and Tamara hacked the mosque’s electric grid while Nolan planted diversions across Fez’s northern corridor.
At exactly 3:00 a.m., the lights in Victor’s compound went dark.
That was their opening.
Amara led the infiltration.
They moved through the shadowed corridors in pairs—silent, swift, hearts pounding.
Nolan disabled guards with precision.
Tamara rerouted security cameras.
Amara’s hands shook as she placed a tracker on the main vault door.
They were close.
Victor was in the sanctuary beneath the dome—glass walls, gold inscriptions, and in the center: a marble table lined with syringes and hard drives.
And beside him—her mother.
Alive.
Amara burst into the room before anyone could stop her.
Victor looked up.
“So predictable.”
Dominic ran in behind her, gun raised. “Back away from her!”
Victor laughed. “Is this justice? Or revenge?”
Amara stepped closer. “It’s balance.”
“You think you’re different?” he sneered. “You broadcasted secrets. You broke systems. You burned your own foundation. You’re no better than me.”
“Wrong,” she said. “I didn’t kill to keep power. I exposed it to give others a voice.”
She looked to Clara. “You’re still following this man? Even after all he’s done?”
Clara hesitated.
Victor noticed. “Don’t even think about it.”
Clara lifted her gun.
Then pointed it at Victor.
“No more,” she whispered. “I followed you into hell. But I’m not dying there.”
Victor lunged.
A shot rang out.
Victor dropped to one knee, blood staining his shoulder.
Dominic disarmed him in a second.
Nolan rushed in and freed Amara’s mother.
Amara stood frozen, watching the man who’d haunted her dreams reduced to a gasping wreck.
Victor met her eyes. “You think you’ve won?”
She stepped forward. “No. I survived. That’s more than you ever could.”
She hit the transmitter in her hand.
The entire vault lit up with a global stream.
Victor’s last stand—broadcast live.
By dawn, Interpol stormed the compound.
Victor was taken in chains.
Clara surrendered quietly.
Dominic wrapped his coat around Amara’s mother, who cried into her daughter’s arms.
Outside, Gideon clapped his hands. “I don’t know what comes next, but that was epic.”
Tamara smiled. “It’s not the end. But it’s the start of peace.”
Amara stood under the rising sun, exhausted but whole.
Dominic came to her side. “Ready to go home?”
She turned to him. “Home isn’t a place anymore. It’s people.”
She took his hand.
“We’re finally free.”
Victor.
She tightened her grip on the armrest. Every lead, every sacrifice, had brought them here. This time, she wouldn’t leave without ending it.
Dominic sat beside her, jaw clenched. “Our last chance to do this right.”
She nodded. “Then let’s do it loud.”
They landed on the outskirts at dusk.
Tamara and Gideon had already set up base at an old textile warehouse, far from prying eyes. Nolan was surveilling the underground catacombs Victor used for transport—carved beneath the city centuries ago.
“He’s using a mosque as a cover,” Nolan explained, pointing at a grainy thermal scan. “The old Almoravid ruins. No civilian access. Surveillance is brutal. We’ll need stealth.”
“Or chaos,” Dominic added.
Amara’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll give him both.”
Victor stood deep within the underground vault. Clara beside him.
He stared at the vials. DNA-marked, tracking-enabled, lethal when needed.
“The world is watching now,” Clara said. “You can’t erase them all.”
Victor smirked. “Then I remind them who owns the silence.”
He handed her a phone.
“Send it to her.”
Amara’s phone vibrated as they geared up.
A video.
She hit play. Her blood froze.
It was her mother—tied to a chair. Bruised. Terrified.
Victor’s voice followed: “You want to expose me? Fine. But every truth costs a life. Let’s see how much you’re willing to pay.”
The video ended.
Amara didn’t cry.
She didn’t flinch.
She stood taller.
Dominic stepped forward, alarmed. “We’ll get her out.”
Amara’s voice was steel. “No. We end him first. Then we save her. If we don’t end this now, he’ll always find another hostage.”
Gideon and Tamara hacked the mosque’s electric grid while Nolan planted diversions across Fez’s northern corridor.
At exactly 3:00 a.m., the lights in Victor’s compound went dark.
That was their opening.
Amara led the infiltration.
They moved through the shadowed corridors in pairs—silent, swift, hearts pounding.
Nolan disabled guards with precision.
Tamara rerouted security cameras.
Amara’s hands shook as she placed a tracker on the main vault door.
They were close.
Victor was in the sanctuary beneath the dome—glass walls, gold inscriptions, and in the center: a marble table lined with syringes and hard drives.
And beside him—her mother.
Alive.
Amara burst into the room before anyone could stop her.
Victor looked up.
“So predictable.”
Dominic ran in behind her, gun raised. “Back away from her!”
Victor laughed. “Is this justice? Or revenge?”
Amara stepped closer. “It’s balance.”
“You think you’re different?” he sneered. “You broadcasted secrets. You broke systems. You burned your own foundation. You’re no better than me.”
“Wrong,” she said. “I didn’t kill to keep power. I exposed it to give others a voice.”
She looked to Clara. “You’re still following this man? Even after all he’s done?”
Clara hesitated.
Victor noticed. “Don’t even think about it.”
Clara lifted her gun.
Then pointed it at Victor.
“No more,” she whispered. “I followed you into hell. But I’m not dying there.”
Victor lunged.
A shot rang out.
Victor dropped to one knee, blood staining his shoulder.
Dominic disarmed him in a second.
Nolan rushed in and freed Amara’s mother.
Amara stood frozen, watching the man who’d haunted her dreams reduced to a gasping wreck.
Victor met her eyes. “You think you’ve won?”
She stepped forward. “No. I survived. That’s more than you ever could.”
She hit the transmitter in her hand.
The entire vault lit up with a global stream.
Victor’s last stand—broadcast live.
By dawn, Interpol stormed the compound.
Victor was taken in chains.
Clara surrendered quietly.
Dominic wrapped his coat around Amara’s mother, who cried into her daughter’s arms.
Outside, Gideon clapped his hands. “I don’t know what comes next, but that was epic.”
Tamara smiled. “It’s not the end. But it’s the start of peace.”
Amara stood under the rising sun, exhausted but whole.
Dominic came to her side. “Ready to go home?”
She turned to him. “Home isn’t a place anymore. It’s people.”
She took his hand.
“We’re finally free.”
End of Signed To Be His Wife Chapter 22. Continue reading Chapter 23 or return to Signed To Be His Wife book page.