Chapter 523: The Penthouse Under Siege

She took a shaky breath, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "I’ve sold weapons to warlords, to rebels, to men who use them to tear the world apart. I’ve made deals in back alleys and boardrooms, with blood on my hands and money in my pockets."

"I’ve lied, I’ve manipulated, I’ve done things that would make you sick if you knew the details." Her eyes glistened, but she blinked the tears away, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m not a good woman, Dexter. I’m not the kind of person you marry. I’m the kind of person you run from."

She turned away, her shoulders trembling as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold herself together. "I built this empire from nothing. I clawed my way to the top, and I did it by being ruthless. By being the thing that goes bump in the night." Her voice was raw now, the words spilling out like a confession she’d held inside for too long. "

I’ve had men killed. I’ve ruined lives. I’ve done things that haunt me when I close my eyes at night. And I can’t... I can’t just pretend that it doesn’t exist. Not with you."

She finally looked at me, her eyes wet, her lower lip trembling. "So tell me, Dexter. Now that you know... do you still think I can be your wife? Or am I just another mistake you’ll walk away from?"

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of her words pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.

But in that moment, all I saw was her—not the arms dealer, not the queen of the underworld, but the woman who had trusted me enough to show me the darkest parts of herself. The woman who was standing before me, broken and bare, was waiting for me to either save her or destroy her.

I took a step closer, my hand reaching for hers, my fingers threading through hers like a lifeline. "Diana," I said softly, my thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down her cheek, the salt of it lingering on my skin. "Look at me."

She did.

Her breath hitched as our eyes locked, her dark irises glistening with unshed tears, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. The vulnerability in her gaze was almost my undoing.

Without another word, I crashed my lips against hers, kissing her hard, sucking on her lower lip until I pulled back and her lips were swollen, her breath ragged. She panted, her fingers digging into my arms as if she needed something to anchor herself to.

"No matter who you are," I growled, my voice rough with conviction, "to me, you are my wife. The woman who loves me. Nothing else matters. Not the guns, not the empire, not the blood on your hands."

My grip on her tightened, my other hand cupping the back of her neck, pulling her closer until our foreheads pressed together. "Even if being with you makes me the enemy of the world, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d burn it all down for you."

Something primal flickered in Diana’s eyes. In an instant, she pounced, her teeth sinking into my lower lip hard enough to draw blood before her mouth claimed mine in a bruising kiss. Her hands tangled in my hair, yanking me closer as she trailed her lips down my jaw, her breath hot against my skin.

When she reached my neck, she bit down, hard, the sharp sting of pain blooming into pleasure as she marked me. "You are mine from now," she growled against my skin, her voice a dark purr. "This is your mark. Let them all see who you belong to."

I groaned, my hands gripping her waist, ready to pull her against me and return the favor—ready to sink my teeth into the delicate skin of her collarbone, to leave my own claim on her—when a sharp knock echoed through the room.

"Boss." Grace’s voice was urgent, muffled through the door.

Diana froze, her body tensing against mine. For a second, she didn’t move, her breath still ragged, her lips still parted.

Then, with a slow exhale, she pulled back, her expression shifting from desire to cold, calculated control. "Come in," she called, her voice steady, though her fingers lingered on my neck, tracing the hickey she’d left.

The door swung open, and Grace rushed in, her face tight with urgency. "Boss, there’s a problem. The FBI is here. They’re searching the club for drug use."

Diana scoffed, her lips curling into a sneer. "Drugs? They’re using that as an excuse. They’re here for the penthouse. They’re here for me."

She turned to Grace, her voice sharp with command. "Grace, you take Dexter and sneak him out. I don’t want him involved in this."

"Stop." My voice cut through the room like a blade. I stepped forward, my hand still gripping Diana’s, refusing to let go. "I’m not leaving you. Not like this. Not ever."

Diana’s eyes flashed with something fierce—anger, fear, desperation. "Dexter, this isn’t a request. If they find you here, you’ll be an accessory. You’ll be ruined. "I won’t let that happen."

I tightened my hold on her hand, my other hand cupping her face, forcing her to look at me. "Then let me help. Let me stand with you. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect. I’m yours, remember? That means I fight with you."

Diana’s breath hitched, her eyes searching mine. For a moment, I saw it—the fear, the raw, terrifying vulnerability of a woman who had spent a lifetime standing alone. But then her expression hardened, her jaw setting with resolve. She turned to Grace, her voice low and deadly. "Get the emergency exit route ready. And Grace?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"If anything happens to me, you make sure he gets out. No matter what."

Grace nodded, her face grim.

Diana’s fingers tightened around mine, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. "You’re a fool, Dexter. But you’re my fool." She pressed a quick, fierce kiss to my lips before turning to face the storm heading our way. "Stay close. And whatever happens... don’t let go."