The Tyrant's Stolen Bride-Chapter 135: Back in His Arms

"Shit!" he hissed.

Amethyst eyes met his—gun raised and aimed straight at him.

Dante’s gaze locked onto Lyra in Rowan’s arms, her hands over her ears, her eyes tightly shut.

It was a trap. They had been waiting for him.

A gunshot thundered through the room.

He twisted on instinct. The bullet missed his heart by inches but tore into his side.

Another echoed strike hit his legs, sending him crashing to the floor before he could run.

Dante groaned in pain, curses spilling from his mouth.

More shots rang out in quick succession. Both of his hands jerked violently as bullets tore through them.

"That’s not enough punishment for the hands that touched my wife," Rowan growled.

He kept firing until the sound of boots thudded up the stairs, rushing toward the room.

The rescue team appeared in the doorway, clad in black tactical gear, rifles in hand, faces hidden behind black balaclavas.

They had rushed in when they heard the nonstop gunshots, convinced there must be more enemies upstairs. But when they arrived, there was only one which already in bad shape.

One of them shook his head, knowing Rowan well. He wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied.

He turned to Rowan and reported, "The perimeter’s secure. His men are contained. You’re clear to move."

Lyra recognized his voice, even behind the mask. "Marcus?"

"Yes, my dear. It’s me. Are you hurt anywhere—"

He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes met the fierce glare of the man standing beside her.

"...I think I’d better leave now."

Marcus gave her a quick salute and a cheeky wink, the kind only a friend could get away with.

Then he ordered his team to take Dante. They seized him and dragged him from the room, leaving at once.

The door shut behind them. The danger was gone as the echo of footsteps faded. The sudden silence felt unreal.

Now alone, Rowan pulled her into his embrace, breathing in her familiar scent. It was really her. He had saved her.

"I’m sorry I was late," he murmured.

Lyra shook her head. "It’s such a relief to see you."

She had waited for him every second, and now he was finally here.

Just moments earlier, panic had seized her. She had been terrified that Dante might storm into the room at any second, and the thought of the wedding rite had made her want to leap from the window.

She would have rather broken her arms and legs than let Dante touch her.

But her attention snapped to a faint noise coming from the bathroom.

She froze in shock, time seeming to stop as a familiar face appeared. Rowan had climbed in through the window.

At the same time, outside, Dante’s attention had been fixed on the chief. The faint shuffle and the soft scrape of boots against tile had gone completely unnoticed.

"I’m glad you weren’t hurt."

His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her gently as he kissed her softly. His thumb brushed away a tear from her cheek.

They stayed in each other’s embrace for a moment until Rowan tapped her shoulder.

"How long are you planning to stay in here?" His eyes flicked around them, signaling that they were still inside the bathroom.

His tone was teasing, but his expression still carried a hint of relief.

"Let’s go outside." Lyra gripped his arm and pulled a little harder than she intended, unaware of his injury.

Rowan stiffened slightly, forcing himself not to react, his face giving nothing away despite the pain.

But Lyra had already caught him.

"You’re injured, aren’t you?" she asked, her voice thick with concern.

"Just a little."

"Really? You’re stiff—it doesn’t seem like just a little. I need to see."

Lyra stepped lightly around the shards of the shattered door, her gaze sliding over the darker marks on the floor.

"Sit here." She helped Rowan onto the edge of the bed.

Then she crouched in front of him, examining his body, trying to figure out where he had been wound.

Rowan set his gun aside. One hand closed gently around hers, while the other cupped her face.

"The wound is nothing... my heart hurts more knowing you were kidnapped."

Lyra blinked. She was worried about his injuries, yet he was still wrapped in the tenderness of their reunion, focused only on her.

"Rowan..." She gently pulled his hand away from her face. "You need to have your wounds checked first."

She held up her palm, stained with blood from his body.

"Oh—wait. I’ll call the medic." Rowan pulled out his device and pressed a button.

Moments later, a man, dressed like the rescue team rushed into the room with a medical kit in hand. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Lyra stepped aside, watching as him skillfully removed Rowan’s vest and the equipment strapped across his body.

When his shirt came off, the gauze around his torso was already soaked through. Carefully, the bandages were removed.

Lyra gasped.

His body was marked with stitched wounds that were still raw. One had split, the stitches giving way under the strain.

"How could you come here in this state?" she muttered, her brows knitting with worry.

Carefully, the wound was cleaned and medicated. As the needle pierced his raw flesh, Lyra clenched her teeth, biting down on her finger to keep from flinching.

Rowan, however, remained calm until the final stitch was secured.

"All right, all done. Please don’t move too much. The stitches could reopen."

He rewrapped the bandage, then packed up his gear and stepped aside.

Lyra tried to help him, but Rowan refused. It felt as though he was the one being rescued here, not her.

They headed toward the fire pit. Dante’s men were already restrained, ringed by armed figures dressed in black.

Lyra was overwhelmed by the number of tactical units spread across the area, positioned in every direction.

"I didn’t know you could bring this many," Lyra whispered, impressed.

"Of course. As long as Theo is still wearing the uniform, I have a few doors I can knock on."

He pointed at his brother, standing a short distance away, speaking with the chief.

Lyra’s eyes immediately spotted the man standing nearby. He had already pulled up his balaclava, revealing his face.

"Enzo?" Lyra blinked. "He’s here too?"

"Yes," Rowan said.

With his movements limited by his injuries, he had relied on his sources instead.