Chapter 7 - THE TRAP AT THE RIVERSIDE WAREHOUSE
The snow began to fall over Toronto by the end of November, dusting the pine trees in a blanket of pristine white.
I left my apartment at 7:00 PM to pick up groceries from the local market.
As I walked down the quiet side street, the sound of crunching snow behind me grew too rhythmic to be a coincidence.
I quickened my pace.
The footsteps behind me sped up as well.
I turned the corner into a narrow alleyway connecting Dupont Street to the commercial district.
Big mistake.
A heavy hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream.
Strong arms dragged me backward into the shadows between two brick buildings.
“Quiet, Mrs. Hayes,” a raspy, unfamiliar voice hissed in my ear.
“We don't want to hurt you unless we have to.”
Morena’s men.
They hadn't just come for Chicago; they had come for Alexander’s soft spot.
“What do you want?” I muffled against the gloved hand.
“Just a little insurance policy to make sure Don Hayes signs over the shipping rights without a fight,” the thug grinned wickedly, pulling a zip-tie from his jacket pocket.
Before he could secure my wrists, a dark blur dropped from the second-story fire escape like an avenging angel.
Alexander.
He had been following me.
Protecting me from the shadows all along.
Alexander slammed his boot into the first thug’s chest with bone-crushing force.
The man crumpled instantly into the snow.
The second thug drew a concealed switchblade, lunging toward Alexander’s ribs.
“Alex, watch out!” I screamed.
Alexander deflected the blade with his left forearm, taking a shallow cut through his coat, and drove his fist straight into the man’s jaw.
The second assailant dropped like a felled oak.
Silence returned to the snowy alleyway, broken only by the heavy panting of my ragged breath.
Alexander turned around slowly, his knuckles bleeding, his dark coat stained with snow and mud.
He looked at me, his gray eyes wide with fierce, protective terror.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice trembling as he reached out to check my arms.
“No,” I whispered, stepping back, looking down at his bleeding forearm.
“You... you followed me?”
“I haven't left your street in three weeks, Emily,” Alexander confessed, dropping his hands, looking utterly defeated.
“I told you I was going to keep you safe.”
“Even if I didn't want you to?” I asked, tears stinging my eyes.
May you like
“Especially when you didn't want me to,” he answered softly.
“Because even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I refuse to let anyone else take you away from me.”
