Hunter shoved past the two security guards blocking the VIP staircase so hard that one of them crashed into the wall. He descended the sweeping marble stairs, his long legs taking the steps two at a time. The sharp, heavy click of his leather shoes sounded like the ticking of a bomb.
Arthur and four massive men in black suits flanked him, moving like a tactical strike team. They hit the crowd on the ground floor, violently shoving billionaires and politicians aside to carve a straight path for their boss.
Beatrice was still screaming, her hand raised high in the air, preparing to deliver a second, devastating slap to Azura's face. She never saw him coming.
He didn't speak. He gave Arthur a single, imperceptible nod. Arthur and four massive men in black suits moved with terrifying efficiency. They didn't shout or draw weapons. Two guards seamlessly intercepted Beatrice's arm mid-swing, twisting it just enough to make her gasp and drop to her knees. The other two formed an impenetrable wall between Dax and Azura. The women holding Azura shrieked and scrambled away in absolute panic.
Dax saw his wife forced to the ground. He roared in anger and charged forward, raising his fists. But the moment his eyes focused on the man standing in the shadows just behind the guards, Dax's knees buckled. He collapsed onto the broken glass, his face turning the color of ash. Hunter Mcintosh.
Hunter didn't spare Dax a single glance. He remained an imposing, silent figure of absolute authority. He shrugged off his bespoke suit jacket.
He dropped to one knee right in the middle of the mess, ignoring the sharp glass slicing into his expensive trousers. He wrapped the large, warm jacket tightly around Azura's trembling, half-naked body.
Azura was hyperventilating. Her eyes were unfocused, wild with panic. She flailed her arms, her nails blindly scratching at whoever was touching her.
Hunter didn't pull away. He let her nails drag across his exposed wrist, drawing a thin line of blood. He grabbed her wrists, his grip firm but careful not to bruise her further.
He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "It's me," he said, his voice a low, commanding rumble that vibrated through her chest. "You're safe."
Azura froze. The familiar scent of cedar and tobacco cut through her panic. She slowly raised her head. Her amber eyes, swimming with unshed tears, locked onto Hunter's pitch-black gaze.
Hunter slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her effortlessly into his chest. Azura was swallowed by the oversized jacket, her face pressed against his crisp white shirt.
The entire ballroom was paralyzed. The most ruthless, cold-blooded CEO in New York, a man who never showed public emotion, was kneeling in broken glass for a nameless escort.
Dax shook violently on the floor. "Mr. Mcintosh!" he stuttered, sweat pouring down his face. "She... she attacked me! She's a crazy hooker-"
Hunter stopped walking. He turned his head slowly. His eyes swept over Dax with the cold detachment of a mortician looking at a corpse.
"This woman is a guest of the event," Arthur stated, his voice cutting through the silence, smooth and chillingly polite as he addressed the stunned crowd. "The Mcintosh family does not tolerate assault on these premises." A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Dax's jaw dropped, his eyes rolling back in sheer horror.
Hunter looked at Arthur. "Escort Mr. and Mrs. Adler out. Ensure they never attend another event in this city," Hunter ordered, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried a lethal weight. It wasn't a public declaration of affection; it was the ruthless dismissal of a nuisance. "And tomorrow morning, audit Adler's firm. If there is a single discrepancy, liquidate it."
Beatrice, hearing the death sentence of her entire life, let out a pathetic whimper and passed out cold on the floor.
At that moment, Colby finally pushed through the crowd. He saw his uncle holding his "date." Colby's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Uncle Hunter, I can explain-"
Hunter shot him a glare so lethal that Colby physically recoiled, instantly shutting his mouth and stepping back into the crowd.
Hunter turned and carried Azura straight toward the private VIP elevator. The doors slid open, and he stepped inside.
The moment the metal doors closed, cutting off the stares of the crowd, the silence in the small box became deafening. The only sound was their overlapping breathing.
Azura's shock began to wear off, replaced by a burning, humiliated pride. She pushed her hands against his hard chest. "Put me down. I can walk."
Hunter ignored her. His arms tightened around her like iron bands, pressing her closer. "Stop moving, or I'll drop you," he warned coldly.
Azura felt the steady, powerful thud of his heartbeat against her cheek. Her face flushed a deep, angry red.
The elevator dinged at the penthouse suite level. Hunter kicked the heavy double doors open, strode across the massive, luxurious living room, and unceremoniously dumped her onto the wide leather sofa.
Azura hit the cushions with a soft grunt. She immediately pulled the suit jacket tighter around her chest, pulling her knees up defensively.
Hunter stood towering over her. He reached up and violently yanked his tie loose. A dark, dangerous storm raged in his eyes.
He leaned down, his fingers gripping her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "You would rather let Colby parade you around like a cheap whore, and let those animals tear your clothes off, than come to me and ask for help?" he snarled, his voice vibrating with raw fury.
