"Fuck," Magnus cursed through gritted teeth, his voice laced with a lethal rage that snapped me instantly awake.
Dazed and disoriented, I tried to sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, craning my neck to see through the windshield. But before I could process where we were, Magnus’s large hand clamped around the back of my neck, forcefully pulling me down and burying my face into the crook of his hot shoulder.
"Fucking vultures," he growled low, every muscle in his frame locking tight with explosive tension. He slammed the transmission into reverse, the engine roaring in protest, only to lock up the brakes once more with a violent squeal of rubber.
Peering carefully over his broad shoulder, my heart dropped into my stomach.
The car was entirely swarmed. A dense, chaotic crowd had surrounded the vehicle on all sides. Dozens of people bearing heavy professional cameras with long telephoto lenses and boom microphones were shoving their equipment against the glass and hammering their fists against the hood, demanding Magnus open the doors.
They shouted all at once, their faces twisted with greedy excitement. Continuous camera flashes fired in relentless bursts, blinding through the tinted windows and turning the world outside into a dizzying strobing nightmare.
"What is this?" I whispered, my voice trembling with fear as I wrapped my arms tighter around Magnus’s neck, shrinking back to make myself as small as possible in his shadow. "Where did they come from? Who are these people?"
"Someone leaked our route to the media," he explained curtly, using one hand to dial a number on his phone while his other arm held me securely against his chest. "The news that I’ve claimed a breeder—let alone a fated mate—has sent shockwaves through high society. Every tabloid vulture wants to be the first to capture your face on camera. Keep your head down, Lang."
Still holding me flush against his side, he brought the phone to his ear.
"How far out are you?" he snapped, his jaw setting so hard I could feel the violent strain in his muscle. "Good. We’re holding. Don’t go easy on them. Take care of the bastards the right way."
He threw the phone onto the dashboard with a harsh flick of his wrist. I shuddered at the cold, ruthless finality in his voice.
"What are you going to do?" I asked softly, my hand creeping to the nape of his neck. I gently worked my nails against the scalding skin behind his ear, trying to soothe the explosive tension coiling through his frame.
At my touch, a low, gravelly rumble tore from his chest. It sounded less like a threat and more like the dark, purring vibration of a satisfied predator.
"Nothing that will leave a permanent stain," he grunted, his grip on my waist tightening possessively. "Don’t worry. Enjoy the show."
A few seconds later, a chorus of startled shrieks erupted outside. A high-pressure torrent of water slammed into the crowd surrounding our car, the sheer force knocking several photographers off their feet and sending them tumbling over their own equipment.
I lifted my head from Magnus’s chest, sitting up in my seat. A massive red fire engine had pulled up alongside us, clearing a path through the mob. Perched atop the vehicle stood a tall man in uniform, casually wielding a heavy industrial firehose and dousing the screaming crowd with ice-cold water under immense pressure.
The water must have been freezing; the reporters scrambled in absolute panic, shoving their multi-thousand-dollar lenses beneath their jackets as they scattered in every direction. A flurry of colorful curses and shouting echoed over the roar of the hose, but the wall of people quickly dissolved.
Magnus rolled his window down a fraction and flashed a quick thumbs-up to the man on the truck. Squinting through the spray, I recognized the grinning face of Sayan standing proudly behind the nozzle.
Engine revving, Magnus navigated the car through the dispersing, soaked mob. Despite the absurdity and initial terror of the situation, a nervous chuckle escaped my lips. It was remarkably effective, and surprisingly humane.
I knew Magnus was a dangerous, unyielding male who loathed any invasion of his privacy. He could have easily plowed through the crowd or let his claws do the talking, but he had chosen this ridiculous display instead—solely to spare my nerves.
When we finally pulled up to the ornate iron gates of the estate, Magnus killed the engine and helped me out of the car, his hand supporting my elbow. His brow furrowed into a heavy scowl as his eyes scanned the driveway, taking in rows of sleek, outrageously expensive luxury vehicles lining the entrance.
"Stay right behind me," he warned, his voice taut with sudden tension as his hand slid to the small of my back, guiding me forward. "Don’t step away. Not even an inch."
We crossed the threshold, the massive double doors swinging shut behind us with a silent, heavy thud. My eyes were still adjusting to the dim interior after the bright afternoon sun.
The next second, strong hands grabbed us both, violently twisting our arms behind our backs.
I was slammed face-first onto the cold marble floor without a word of warning. Pain flared through my shoulder and hip from the impact, and a cry slipped past my lips as my vision went black for a split second. A shockwave of icy dread shot down my spine, paralyzing my breath.
"What the fuck?!" Magnus roared.
The air in the foyer vibrated with his raw, explosive fury. With a violent surge of strength, he threw off two towering guards in black suits who were attempting to pin him to the floor. They crashed into the walls like ragdolls.
"Get your fucking hands off her! Now!"
Slowly, a tall, middle-aged man in an impeccably tailored dark suit stepped into the grand hallway. The sheer weight of his Alpha authority hit the room like a physical wave, suffocating every lungful of air. A torturous pressure radiated from him, so absolute it made the space around him feel volatile.
"Restrain him," the man commanded, his tone dark and absolute as he pulled a black respirator mask from his coat—equipped with twin micro-fans humming on either side—and secured it over his face. "Everyone, put on your protective filters. Immediately. That is an order."
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