Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO-Chapter 83: Just Pissed Off

LEONARDO ANNISON

Heat. Pressure. Deafening noise.

Then—silence.

My ears rang. Smoke choked the air. Debris rained down around us.

Oliver groaned beneath me. I rolled off him, scanning for injuries. "Are you hit?"

He coughed, shaking his head. "Just pissed off."

Charles was already back on his feet, blood trickling from a cut above his eyebrow. "We need to move. Now."

I hauled Oliver up.

The attackers were advancing, using the smoke as cover.

We had one shot.

"West side," I ordered.

Charles didn’t argue.

We ran.

Oliver stayed close, his shoulder brushing mine as we descended. Every creak of the steps set my teeth on edge. Every shadow could be an ambush.

Then—voices below.

I signaled for a halt.

Two men stood at the bottom, blocking the exit.

Oliver’s breath hitched.

I raised my gun—

A hand gripped my wrist.

Oliver shook his head. Then, before I could stop him, he whistled.

The men turned.

Charles and I fired in unison.

Both dropped.

Oliver smirked. "Distraction."

I should’ve been angry. Instead, something dangerously close to pride flared in my chest.

We burst out into the alley.

The extraction car screeched to a halt in front of us, right on time.

Charles yanked the door open. "Get in!"

Oliver didn’t hesitate.

I followed, slamming the door shut just as gunfire peppered the pavement behind us.

The car peeled away.

Silence.

Then Oliver let out a shaky laugh. "So. That happened."

I stared at him. Blood streaked his face. His clothes were torn. His hands trembled slightly around the gun he still clutched like a lifeline.

And yet—he was smiling.

Something inside me cracked.

Because this wasn’t just some stranger caught in the crossfire.

This was Oliver King.

The man who held my heart in his hands.

***|***|***|***|***

OLIVER KING

The bullet wound in my arm burned like hellfire.

I pressed my palm against the makeshift bandage—Leo’s torn dress shirt—watching the crimson bloom through the fabric. The pain was a living thing, gnawing at my focus, but I clung to it. Pain meant I was alive.

Leo drove like a madman, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The car smelled like blood and gunpowder, the acrid stench mixing with the leather seats. Charles slumped in the back, unconscious, his breathing shallow from the bullet he’d taken protecting my stupid ass.

"Where are we going?" My voice came out rough, like I’d swallowed glass.

Leo didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on the road, the passing streetlights painting his sharp features in flashes of gold and shadow.

I kicked the dashboard. "Damn it, Leo, talk to me!"

The car swerved violently as he jerked the wheel, slamming us onto a dirt road. Gravel pinged against the undercarriage like gunfire. My stomach lurched.

When he finally spoke, his voice was colder than the barrel of the gun still tucked in his waistband. "They weren’t after me."

The words settled between us like a death sentence.

I swallowed. "What?"

Leo killed the engine in front of a derelict hunting cabin. The headlights illuminated peeling paint and a sagging porch. "Those men. They weren’t aiming at me." He turned, his dark eyes boring into mine. "They were aiming at you."

The world tilted.

I fumbled for the door handle, needing air, needing space—needing to get the hell away from that look in his eyes. The night air hit me like a slap, crisp and pine-scented. I staggered a few steps before my knees gave out.

Leo was there before I hit the ground, his hands gripping my shoulders. "Breathe."

"I am breathing," I snapped, shrugging him off.

His jaw tightened. "Like a spooked racehorse."

"Forgive me for being a little rattled after finding out I’m on someone’s kill list!"

Leo hauled me upright, his touch burning through my ruined shirt. "You shouldn’t be."

"Excuse me?"

He dragged me toward the cabin, his grip unrelenting. "The Annison family has enemies. Powerful ones. But they don’t go after outsiders." He kicked open the door, the sound echoing through the empty woods. "Unless you’re not an outsider."

The accusation hung between us like a noose.

I wrenched free. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Leo moved through the cabin with practiced ease, lighting oil lamps with a flick of his wrist. The flickering light carved hollows beneath his cheekbones, making him look more ghost than man. "It means someone thinks you’re worth targeting. And I want to know why."

A chill skittered down my spine.

Charles groaned from the car.

Leo didn’t so much as glance back. "Get him inside."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand answers. But the blood soaking my sleeve reminded me this wasn’t some theoretical danger.

Someone had shot me.

And Leo knew why.

The Truth Comes Out

Charles passed out again on the moth-eaten couch, his breathing ragged but steady. I pressed a fresh bandage to his shoulder, trying not to gag at the coppery scent of blood.

Leo leaned against the fireplace, watching me with that unnerving focus. "You’re good at that."

"Field medic training," I muttered. "Prep school was wild."

A lie. My mother had insisted on combat medicine lessons since I was twelve. Another thing that made no sense until tonight.

Leo pushed off the mantel, crossing the room in three strides. He caught my wrist, turning my arm to examine the bullet graze. His thumb brushed the edge of the wound, sending an electric jolt through my veins.

"You’re lying," he said softly.

I yanked my arm back. "About what?"

"Everything." His gaze pinned me in place. "The way you handled yourself back there. The way you patched up Charles. That wasn’t some rich kid playing soldier."

The lamp light flickered, casting long shadows across the floor. Somewhere outside, an owl cried.

I forced a laugh. "What, you think I’m some kind of spy?"

Leo didn’t smile. "I think you’re in deeper than you realize."

A floorboard creaked.

Charles’s voice was slurred but clear. "He’s right." ƒгeewebnovёl_com

We both turned.

Charles struggled to sit up, wincing as the movement tugged his wound. "They weren’t Annison enemies." He met my eyes. "They were Kings."

The world stopped.

My blood turned to ice. "That’s impossible."

Leo went very still. "Explain."

Charles coughed, wiping blood from his lips. "Oliver’s family has factions. The ones who want peace with the Annisons—and the ones who want war." His gaze locked onto mine. "You’re the heir. And they’d rather see you dead than let your mother’s alliance happen."

The room spun.

Memories clicked into place—my mother’s sudden interest in Leo’s family, the "security drills," the way she’d pushed me toward Belmont Academy despite my protests.

She hadn’t been matchmaking.

She’d been putting me in the line of fire.

Leo’s voice cut through the haze. "Oliver?"

I realized I was shaking.

Realized something worse—Leo was staring at me like I’d become a stranger.

And maybe I had.

Because if Charles was right, then my own blood wanted me dead.

And the only person standing between me and a bullet was the boy who’d spent months pushing me away for this exact reason.

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