CHAPTER 178: SAVING HER

I didn’t see the room.

I saw red.

Isabella—half-naked, torn clothes barely clinging to her skin, her chest exposed in a way that made my blood boil—not from desire, but from fury. She was tied down, vulnerable, trembling but defiant.

Two men hovered over her. One’s pants were undone, his hand shamelessly roaming himself. The other was inches from her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above her collarbone, his breath hot and malicious.

I didn’t think.

I moved.

The first one turned with a knife. Too slow.

I caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted—SNAP.

His scream was short-lived. My fist crushed his temple with a sickening crunch. He dropped before he hit the ground.

The second froze, his hand still wrapped around himself. Disgust flooded me—white-hot, blinding. I was on him in a blink, smashing his face against the floor, over and over, until the tiles were slick with blood.

"OUT!" I roared at the doorway, my voice tearing my throat raw. "Both of you—turn the fuck around!"

I turned to Isabella.

My breath caught—fuck.

She was limp but conscious, eyes glassy, breath uneven. Her breath came in shallow, frantic gasps, her chest heaving. Streaks of dried tears marked paths down her pale cheeks. Her torn gown barely clung to her, ropes biting into her wrists. My entire body trembled—not from exhaustion, not from the drug—but from something darker.

"Adrien?" she whispered. It came out broken. Confused. A plea.

Something inside me shattered.

I was beside her in an instant, shoving my jacket off and draping it over her chest, shielding her from the world. From me. Even now, the drug throbbed through my veins—heat, lust, need crawling under my skin, urging me to touch, to take. I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.

I glanced around quickly—no of them is watching, good.

My fingers fumbled with the knots, the drug making my movements clumsy yet hyper-aware. Each fiber of the rope felt like an insult, a further violation. The silk of her torn dress, brushing against my knuckles, sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.

"Are you hurt?" I demanded, not looking at her, my voice raw and tight. The words were automatic, a desperate need for confirmation.

"Princess..." I called out again, my voice broke as my hands shook, ripping through the ropes at her wrists until blood slicked my fingers.

The moment her arms were loose, I pulled her against me, burying her bare skin beneath my jacket, shielding her from even the air.

And then she moaned.

A soft, broken sound that sliced through my fury and lodged in my chest. My blood turned to fire. That noise—because of this. Because of what they gave her too. Because they thought they could touch her, feed her poison, make her body betray her.

I wanted to kill them again and again.

"It’s—hot," she breathed. "Adrien—"

"Shhh, I’m here. I’ve got you," My voice cracked. "I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry."

She shifted against me, a weak, trembling movement that felt like a scream against my skin.

"Adrien..." she gasped, her voice fevered, the sound tinged with something that twisted my gut.

Her body burned—scorching hot even through my shirt. Every shallow breath she took shuddered through me, every brush of her bare thigh against my arm sent spikes of heat crawling under my skin.

I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached.

"Cameron," I barked, my voice shaking with barely-leashed violence. "Chopper—now."

From the doorway, Cameron’s calm reply came sharp and immediate. "It’s ready. Rooftop’s clear."

I shifted, sliding one arm under Isabella’s knees, the other clutching her to my chest as if my hold alone could shield her from every filthy hand that had dared touch her tonight.

Her head lolled against my shoulder, soft moans spilling from her lips with every slight movement. My pulse thundered. Rage and need tangled into something feral.

"What about these bastards?" Cameron asked, his voice edged.

I looked down at the unconscious heap of blood and broken bone that used to be men. My grip tightened around Isabella, knuckles bone-white.

"Hold them," I growled, voice low, deadly calm. "No one touches them until I come back." My gaze snapped to Gray. "Scrub this room. Every trace gone."

Gray’s nod was sharp as a blade. "Understood."

I didn’t waste another second.

Pulling Isabella closer, I strode out of the room. Cameron cleared the way ahead, pushing open a hidden service door that bypassed the main hall.

Isabella stirred, a small whimper escaping her as her fingers clutched weakly at my shirt.

"Adrien," she murmured, voice raw, "please... it hurts."

My chest constricted painfully. "I know, princess," I whispered into her hair, my voice shaking despite my efforts to steady it. "I’ve got you. I swear, I’ve got you."

We reached the service stairwell. The air was colder here, the concrete steps stark and unforgiving. The rhythmic thud of our feet echoed in the enclosed space, a grim drumbeat marking our step. Isabella shivered against me, a full-body tremor that had nothing to do with the cold.

"So hot," she breathed, her head tossing restlessly. Her cheek brushed against my neck, her skin a furnace. A jolt, sharp and unwanted, shot through me. I flinched, my grip tightening involuntarily.

"Easy, bro," Cameron said quietly from behind me. He wasn’t looking at her; he was watching me, his eyes narrowed with concern.

The door to the roof burst open, and the night air hit us like a physical blow. Cold, sharp, and loud. The percussive thwump-thwump-thwump of the helicopter blades filled the world, syncing with the frantic, jackhammer rhythm of my own heart. The city lights spread out below us, a dazzling, heartless smear.

I carried her toward the waiting chopper, the wind whipping my hair and tearing at the jacket draped over her. For a terrifying second, the wind caught the fabric, threatening to expose her again. I pulled it tighter, my body a shield against the wind, against the world, against the monster they had tried to unleash inside me.

One of my men had the chopper door open, his hand braced against the frame. I ducked inside and settled into the plush seat, arranging her across my lap, her head cradled in the crook of my arm. She was still burning up, her breathing shallow and ragged.

Cameron secured the door from outside. The chopper lurched as it lifted off, the city shrinking away beneath us.

I pressed my face into her hair, breathing her in, vowing silently to every god I didn’t believe in—

When I came back... those men wouldn’t have faces left to identify.