The Tyrant's Stolen Bride-Chapter 126: Under His Grip

That morning, as sunlight crept through the curtains, Dante woke before Lyra and slipped out quietly.

An hour later, the bedroom door eased open. A maid entered, placing a fresh set of clothes beside the bed.

She gasped and leapt back when Lyra suddenly bolted upright. Before she could react, Lyra rushed out of the room.

Lyra paused only for a heartbeat in the hallway, glancing left and right. When she spotted the staircase, she ran down it without hesitation.

The bungalow was sprawling and unfamiliar, and panic drove her toward the nearest exit she could find.

She flung the door open, her foot catching the frame. She stumbled blindly forward and crashed into a pair of boots.

The owner jumped back just in time.

He reached out, offering his hand. "Are you all right?"

Lyra recoiled the moment she noticed the long rifle slung over his shoulder.

"No... don’t come any closer!"

Panic surged through her. She scrambled to her feet and spun around, ready to bolt, her eyes darting wildly for another escape.

But the maid stood frozen in the doorway, and beyond her, two more armed men blocked the path.

"Who are you? Let me go!" she shouted.

At that moment, boots echoed against the floor, approaching them.

"What is all this?" A familiar voice shouted from a distance.

Her head snapped toward the sound.

She craned her neck to peek and froze when a familiar face came into view.

"Mr. Cortez," she gasped.

She had never imagined Dante could be this dangerous. He was capable of kidnapping and even firing a gun inside a hospital.

The men stepped back, clearing a path for Dante. He walked past them, frowning.

His gaze traveled over her—her scraped hands, her bruised knee, the thin nightgown clinging to her skin.

The nightgown was flimsy, and the bungalow was full of men.

He was displeased... she was his, and no one but him could see her in that gown.

Without a word, he shrugged out of his jacket and stepped forward, lifting it as to drape it over her shoulders.

Lyra took a step back, shaking her head. "Don’t come closer!"

Dante’s hand froze in midair. Then, slowly, he lowered the jacket.

He raised his hand, dismissing everyone around them, including the maid.

"Leave us."

"Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?" Lyra shouted, not even waiting for everyone to be dismissed, her hands curling into fists.

"I want you, of course," Dante scoffed.

"You forced my hand. If you hadn’t pushed me, none of this would have happened."

Her brow twitched.

Dante’s desire for her was nothing more than a need to claim her for his own bed.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She rubbed her arms, trying to push the disgusting idea from her mind.

For a moment, she wondered if he was blind or simply stupid.

How could he not know? She was married. And so was he.

"You have no shame. I’m married, and so are you. Have you even thought about how your wife is feeling?"

"I don’t have a wife," he said while moving to a nearby stone chair and sitting down.

"Liar," she snapped, the word burning on her tongue. He had a wife, yet he dared deny it.

Lyra turned to keep him in sight, afraid he might lunge at her without warning.

"I don’t have a wife..." he repeated, to emphasize that he was single.

Then he added lightly, "And you’ll fill that position."

"Are you insane? There are plenty of beautiful women out there you could have. I’m married. I have a husband. Let me go!"

Her hand flew to her finger, instinctively searching for the ring she always wore, only to find bare skin.

She blinked, then stared at the empty space where it should have been.

It was gone.

Lyra quickly lowered her hand. This was not the time to think about a ring.

"Where is Mrs. Cortez?" Lyra demanded, her tone sharp with disbelief.

Dante shrugged, lifting both hands to show they were empty. "I already told you. There is no Mrs. Cortez."

"Then what about the pregnant woman in that mansion?" Lyra asked, confusion tightening her chest.

"She is no one. She’s pregnant with another man’s child. Besides, she’s in prison."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you seriously telling me you didn’t realize she orchestrated the airport incident?"

"What?" Lyra blinked, momentarily speechless.

She knew who was behind it—James’s sister. That was what Rowan had told her. She had never imagined the woman was connected to Dante.

As she thought about Rowan, she suddenly remembered that she had triggered the tracker.

Her eyes lowered as she touched her neck. Her hand froze when she realized the necklace with the tracker was gone.

Then her gaze fell to the clothes she was wearing, lightly pinching the fabric between two fingers.

"My clothes... so thin," she whispered.

She crossed her arms and took a step quickly toward the staircase, intent on going back to the room.

As she scrambled up the stairs, a jacket suddenly draped over her shoulders.

She jerked when she realized Dante was following behind her.

"Go away!"

She shoved him, though her fingers instinctively tightened around his jacket.

Dante reacted immediately, scooping her up as she struggled.

"Let me go!" she shouted, punching him hard.

He barely flinched, enduring the blows. He quickened his pace until they reached the room, then threw her onto the bed, securing her hands above her head.

His body pressed against hers, trapping her between his legs.

"Hey... stop struggling if you want your father alive." His voice was low and calm, but his gaze was sharp.

Lyra froze. "Where is he?" Her gaze locked with his.

"He’s in the west wing. Don’t do anything foolish. Got it?"

She didn’t answer. Her breathing was ragged from the fight, her anger rising and falling sharply.

The rise and fall of her chest made it difficult for Dante to restrain himself.

Slowly, he leaned in toward her lips but she turned her head away.

That didn’t stop him. Instead, he pressed closer, his breath grazing her earlobe.

He teased her, gauging her desire. She held back, refusing to give in.

He smirked.

"Go wash up... I’ll wait. We’ll have breakfast together."

Then, deliberately, he added, "You want to see your father, don’t you?"

Lyra’s brows knit together. After a pause, she nodded.

"Good." He planted a soft kiss on her neck.

Only then did Dante release her and leave the room.