The Heiress He Underestimated novel Chapter 210

Chapter 210 Where Love Drew Blood

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Finished

Elera didn’t move from her crouch. Her hands, buried in her husband’s side, were still. “The ambulance is almost here, Father. The police are with them. It’s over!

“Is it?” Kieran took another step, his shoes crunching on glass. He glanced dismissively at Drakonius. “He doesn’t look good. All that work, and he’s still just… bleeding out on the floor.” He tilted his head. “A good shot. Messy, but not immediately fatal. A classic warning. But warnings only work if the person heeds them.” He raised the gun, not in a frantic aim, but with a terrible, slow certainty. He pointed it directly at Drakonius’s head. “I think we’re past warnings.”

Time stopped.

Elera looked from the gun’s dark eye to Drakonius’s pale, pain–filled face. She saw the acceptance there, the grim resignation. He was looking at her and not at the gun pointed at him. Trying to memorize her, she realized. This was it. The final move. Not a business deal or a social sabotage. A finger on a trigger, an inch of metal ending everything.

A cold, clear fury washed through her, colder than the fear, colder than the blood on her hands. It was a familiar fury. It was the fury she’d felt reading misogynistic board reports. The fury she’d channeled into Raven Shadowmere’s darkest heroines. The fury that had built Nethys Medical from a shell and Celestine from a sketchbook.

She didn’t plead nor did she cry.

Very slowly, keeping her eyes locked on her father’s, she withdrew her hands from Drakonius’s wound. Lin, understanding, immediately applied pressure again. Elera’s fingers, sticky and red, reached for the stainless steel tray beside her. Amid the clamps and gauze, there was one instrument that glinted with a singular, sharp purpose.

A number ten scalpel. Blade like a crescent moon, sharp enough to split a cell.

She stood up.

She was still in her dark clothes from the rescue, now stained with her husband’s blood. Her hair had come loose, framing a face that was all sharp angles and icy resolve. She held the scalpel down by her side, almost casually.

“You taught me many things, Father,” she said, her voice quiet, level, and carrying in the dead air of the lab. “You taught me that power is the only language people truly understand. You taught me that sentiment is for losers. You taught me that winners don’t ask for what they want. They take it.”

She took a step toward him. Just one.

Kieran’s gun didn’t waver from Drakonius’s head. “And what is it you want to take, Elera? My gun? With a little knife?”

“I want him alive,” she said, taking another step. The distance between them was shrinking. “I want the future we built. I want the mornings arguing over the coffee, and the late nights in this lab, and the stupid, quiet joy of a life we carved out for ourselves. That’s what I want. And you are standing in my way.”

She was close now. Close enough to see the sweat on his temple, the mad glint in his eyes. “So I’m going to take it from you,” she finished. Her knuckles were white around the scalpel’s handle.

Kieran actually smiled, a thin, cruel thing. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic. Just like your mother with her charity balls and her sad paintings. It’s empty, Elera. It’s all just acting. Now, put the toy

18:06 Tue, Apr 21

2 DeeWhere Love Drew Blood

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