Chapter 7 - The Interception
As the triumphant notes of the recessional march swelled through the chapel, Liam and I turned to face the crowd as husband and wife.
The joy in the room was palpable. But as my eyes scanned the cheering guests, my gaze caught a sudden, frantic movement near the back of the chapel, close to the heavy exit doors.
It was Chloe.
She was clutching her champagne-colored silk gown, trying to discreetly slip out of the chapel before Liam and I made our way down the aisle. She wanted to escape the immediate fallout. She wanted to run and hide before the reality of her public exposure fully set in.
But she didn't make it to the doors.
Before I could even process what was happening, two massive men in perfectly tailored black suits materialized from the shadows of the vestibule. They moved with terrifying silence and precision. They didn't touch her, but they expertly blocked her path, creating an impenetrable human wall between her and the exit.
Liam’s hand tightened slightly around mine.
"What is going on?" I whispered, looking up at him.
His expression remained perfectly serene for the cheering guests, but a dangerous, freezing coldness had entered his eyes.
"I had sincerely hoped we wouldn't need to do this today," Liam said quietly, his voice dangerously smooth. "But your sister made her choice. Now, she gets to face the consequences."
We began our walk down the aisle. The guests continued to cheer, completely unaware of the tense standoff happening at the back of the room. As we approached the rear, I saw my mother desperately rushing toward Chloe, her face pale with panic. My father followed close behind, his face flushed with indignation, ready to yell at the security guards.
We reached the vestibule just as my father opened his mouth to bark an order.
"Step aside immediately," my father demanded, pointing a finger at the taller of the two guards. "You are detaining my daughter. Do you have any idea who I am?"
"They know exactly who you are, Thomas," Liam interrupted, his voice cutting through my father’s bluster like a scythe. "Which is precisely why they are ignoring you."
My father spun around, his jaw dropping. "Liam. What is the meaning of this? Why are your men harassing Chloe?"
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Before Liam could answer, Marcus Hale stepped out from a nearby side corridor.
Marcus was the head of Sinclair Global Security—a former intelligence operative who managed Liam’s safety with ruthless efficiency. He did not look amused. And in his hands, he was holding a remarkably familiar object.
