Chapter 3 A Velvet Box and a Decade of Scars

The heavy Escalade rolled down the concrete ramp into the underground parking garage of the private clinic.

The front tires hit a thick yellow speed bump. The SUV bounced sharply.

Alya's weakened body swayed with the motion. She threw her right hand out to catch her balance, her palm slapping down hard on the leather center console.

Her fingers brushed against something hard and covered in soft fabric.

Alya looked down.

Sitting half-hidden under a manila folder with a classified seal, was a small, dark blue velvet ring box.

The air vanished from Alya's lungs.

The tabloid headlines she had read in London flashed behind her eyes like strobe lights. Archer Garcia to Marry Cecilia Decker. The Ultimate Political Alliance.

A sharp, stabbing pain pierced the center of her chest. It was a physical agony, identical to the phantom pain she felt the day she watched her father collapse on the floor of the safe house.

Alya yanked her hand back. Her fingertips were trembling so violently she had to curl them into a tight fist.

Archer noticed the sudden shift in her breathing. He followed her gaze down to the console.

He saw the velvet box.

Archer's entire body went rigid for a split second, a flash of something unreadable-panic? regret?-in his eyes before the mask of cold indifference slammed back into place. He didn't reach out to hide it, but the muscle in his jaw clenched. He left it sitting there, a silent, heavy weight between them.

He turned his head, his piercing gaze locking onto the side of Alya's face, waiting for her reaction.

Alya forced herself to look out the tinted window. She dug her fingernails so deeply into her palms that the skin broke. She used the physical sting to anchor her mind.

She would not break down. Not in front of the man who was marrying into the family that destroyed hers.

"Congratulations," Alya said. Her voice sounded like it was coming from a rusted tin can. "I read the news. A perfect political merger."

The words hung in the suffocating air of the cabin.

Archer's jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. The dark amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by a volatile fury.

"Is that why you came back?" Archer asked, his voice a lethal whisper. "After ten years of hiding, did you really think you could return to this city and survive? With your body in this condition? You came back to D.C. to get yourself killed."

The word killed hit Alya like a physical blow to the stomach.

She whipped her head around, her eyes blazing with a desperate, reckless fire.

"My father was framed," Alya snarled, her voice shaking with rage. "And I am going to rip the floorboards out of this city until I prove it."

Archer leaned into her space. The scent of cedar and danger wrapped around her throat.

"The deep water in this town will crush your bones to dust, Alya," he warned.

Alya didn't back down. She met his stare, her chest heaving. "Then let me drown. It has nothing to do with you."

The metal security gate of the garage rolled up with a loud, grinding clatter. Harsh, fluorescent white lights flooded the dark cabin.

Alya squinted, turning her face away from the blinding glare. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the intense wave of dizziness washing over her brain.

The SUV jerked to a halt.

Marcus was out of the driver's seat in a flash, pulling open the rear door. The damp, cold air of the concrete garage rushed in.

Archer stepped out first. He stood on the concrete floor, looking down at her like a king observing a beggar.

He held out his large hand, the face of his Patek Philippe watch catching the harsh light.

"Get out," Archer ordered. "Or I will drag you out."

Alya gritted her teeth. She ignored his hand.

She gripped the door frame, her knuckles white, and forced her trembling legs to move. She stepped out of the high cabin, her heel hitting the concrete.

The moment her weight shifted, her knees completely gave out.

The world tilted sideways. Alya fell forward, the concrete floor rushing up to meet her face.

Before she could hit the ground, two massive arms wrapped around her waist. Archer caught her, pulling her limp, freezing body flush against his warm chest.