She had expected Fredrich to be like this. Cold, yes. Possessive? Absolutely. But she never imagined he'd chase her down with armed men like a mafia lord retrieving stolen property.
And Christian—well, he'd always been a tyrant in a suit.
But this? This was obsession on a whole new level.
She was suffocating.
And not just from the lack of space in the car.
They weren't fighting for her love. They were fighting for control.
The car took a sharp turn, gravel spitting under the tires as they pulled into a fenced clearing.
At the center of it stood a sleek black jet with its stairs already lowered and engines purring like a predator waiting to strike.
A private plane.
Christian's escape route.
"Go!" he shouted, shoving open the door before the vehicle had even fully stopped.
"Move!" he grabbed Lina's wrist, yanking her after him as they ran toward the plane.
