Chapter 5

The biting cold of the pool water shocked Erna's nervous system, dragging her back from the edge of unconsciousness.

Ignoring the agonizing throb in her forehead and the water burning her trachea, she grabbed the stone edge of the pool and dragged her heavy, soaked body out.

Her trench coat clung to her skin like a wet shroud. Drops of rain mixed with the warm blood trailing down the side of her face.

Erna gasped for air. She looked up. Her eyes locked onto Apollo. It was the gaze of a cornered, bleeding wolf.

Apollo stared at the gruesome gash on her forehead. The fingers pressing against his temple twitched. A sudden, inexplicable wave of panic clawed at his chest.

But his arrogant pride crushed it instantly. He forced a cold smirk onto his face. "Your acting is getting more realistic every day."

Erna didn't speak. She walked on unsteady legs across the slippery tiles, heading straight for a heavy outdoor glass table.

Sitting in the center of the table was a massive, solid crystal ashtray. It gleamed coldly under the dim terrace lights.

Erna reached out with her freezing, purple-tinged fingers and grabbed the heavy crystal.

She spun around. Without a single warning, she hurled the solid block of crystal directly at Apollo's head with every ounce of strength she had left.

They were too close. Apollo didn't have time to dodge. He instinctively threw his arm up to protect his face.

The heavy edge of the crystal smashed brutally into the junction of Apollo's shoulder and neck.

Thud.

The sickening sound of impact echoed in the rain. The custom fabric of his suit tore open instantly, and dark blood began to seep through.

The sheer force sent Apollo stumbling backward. Pain exploded in his shoulder.

"You bitch!" Apollo roared. He lunged forward like a rabid animal, raising his fist to strike her down.

Before his fist could fall, a massive hand shot out from the shadows.

The hand, adorned with a Patek Philippe watch, clamped around Apollo's wrist. It looked effortless, but it carried the unstoppable, crushing force of a hydraulic press.

Apollo's forward momentum was violently halted. The bones in his wrist ground together, sending a shooting pain up his arm that forced his body to twist awkwardly to the side.

A man over six foot three, wearing a pitch-black tailored overcoat, stepped into the light.

His face was a mask of absolute, chilling indifference, but his dark eyes were swirling with a murderous, violent rage.

It was Cary Warren. The proxy of the powerful Warren family in Washington D.C., and Erna's legal guardian.

Cary discarded Apollo's wrist like a piece of rotting garbage. He didn't even waste a second looking at the bleeding heir.

He walked straight to Erna. The violent storm in his eyes instantly melted into a deep, suppressed agony as he looked at her shivering, bleeding form.

Cary stripped off his heavy cashmere overcoat. With movements that were both incredibly gentle and completely dominant, he draped the thick fabric over her head and shoulders like a protective canopy, shielding her from the freezing rain without letting the cashmere soak against her drenched clothes, before pulling her firmly into the warmth of his chest.

His massive frame completely blocked Apollo's view of her, creating an impenetrable fortress.

Apollo clutched his bleeding shoulder, his face twisted in fury. "Who the hell are you? Do you know what happens when you touch me in Manhattan?"

Cary slowly turned his head. He looked at Apollo the way a man looks at an insect right before stepping on it.

He didn't answer. Cary simply raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Four men in black tactical suits stepped out from the shadows, forming a solid wall between Cary and Apollo.

Ignoring the blood and mud, Cary bent down and scooped Erna up into his arms.

The moment Erna's head hit his broad chest, the last string holding her consciousness together snapped. She passed out cold.

Cary carried her away, his long strides eating up the distance.

Apollo was left standing alone in the freezing rain. He stared at the puddle of Erna's blood on the tiles. Another fragmented memory of Erna, covered in blood and crying, flashed through his mind, making his heart violently contract.