Chapter 276: The Escape

Catherine clenched her jaw.

She had slipped.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t let Dorian get inside her head, yet the moment he mentioned Maximilian, she had lost her composure.

And now... That mistake was going to leave a mark.

For one terrifying moment, she almost gave up. Almost. But...

No.

She already carried Dorian’s scars on her soul. She refused to carry them on her body as well.

She drove her knee upward, trying to throw him off. Her fingers dug desperately into the hand crushing her throat, clawing at his wrist, but his grip only tightened.

Air stopped reaching her lungs. She couldn’t even cough. Pressure built inside her head until her vision blurred and her eyes felt ready to burst.

She was dying.

A twisted chuckle escaped Dorian.

He had abandoned the idea of striking her with the gun. Watching her struggle amused him far more.

Finally, he loosened his grip.

Catherine sucked in a desperate breath, coughing violently as precious air flooded her lungs. She barely managed a single gasp... before his hand closed around her throat again.

The world tilted.

She kicked and clawed, every instinct screaming at her to survive, while Dorian looked down at her with unmistakable delight.

He was enjoying this.

Then... there were gunshots. Several sharp cracks echoed from outside the mansion. Dorian frowned and instinctively turned toward the noise.

A split second later, a heavy kick slammed squarely into his back.

He lurched forward with a grunt.

Catherine rolled onto her side, coughing so hard her chest burned. Every breath scraped painfully through her throat as she dragged herself away from the struggle.

Her limbs felt like lead. She crawled until her back hit the wall. Only then did she look up.

Fitzgerald.

"What are you doing here?" Dorian snarled, recovering just in time to throw a punch.

Fitzgerald didn’t retreat.

He waited until the very last instant before slipping past the blow and driving a brutal punch into Dorian’s stomach.

"You dragged her away!"

Dorian doubled over with a cough.

Fitzgerald answered with a vicious kick to his abdomen. "I was talking to her!"

Despite everything, despite the pain tearing through her throat, Catherine let out a breathless laugh.

This man...

He had stormed into a mansion, fought through armed guards, and apparently interrupted an attempted murder... all because he wanted to finish their conversation.

It was so absurd that it was almost believable.

Fitzgerald turned immediately toward her. His expression softened as he knelt beside her. He reached out to lift her.

"I’ll walk," Catherine said instinctively.

Fitzgerald glanced at his outstretched arms before slowly lowering them. "All right."

He simply offered his hand instead. Catherine accepted it. Getting to her feet felt like lifting a mountain, but Fitzgerald matched every unsteady step without trying to hurry her.

Behind them, Dorian staggered upright.

Without a word, Fitzgerald fell half a step behind Catherine, placing himself squarely between her and Dorian as they walked toward the front door.

Outside, chaos had consumed the driveway. Dorian’s security team was exchanging blows with another group of men.

Catherine looked sideways at Fitzgerald. He had come prepared.

His Bentley waited with the rear door already open. She climbed inside. Fitzgerald shut the door, rounded the car, and slid into the seat beside her as the chauffeur accelerated away.

Catherine looked through the rear window.

Dorian burst out of the mansion, pistol in hand.

*Bang*

*Bang*

Two shots rang through the night.

"Idiot."

Fitzgerald shoved her head downward with one hand, shielding her beneath the backrest.

The bullets missed.

*Bang*

Another shot. This time... something struck the side of the Bentley with a sharp metallic crack. Catherine heard Fitzgerald suck in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

Right. This was his favorite car.

"Where to?" Fitzgerald asked.

"The airport."

He studied her for only a second before giving a single nod. The chauffeur immediately changed course, and the Bentley sped toward the airport.

Only then did Catherine notice Fitzgerald’s hand. She gently took it into hers. "You’re bruised," she murmured.

His knuckles were already beginning to darken.

How soft was his skin to bruise after throwing a single punch?

Her heart tightened.

"My poor boy..." The words escaped before she realized she had spoken them.

"Is there a first-aid kit?" she asked the chauffeur.

"It’s nothing," Fitzgerald said.

He started to pull his hand away. Then he saw the look on her face. She was genuinely worried. Something inside him refused to take his hand back.

He simply sat there, watching as she carefully cleaned the scrape across his knuckles.

She handled his hand as though it were something precious, dabbing antiseptic onto the bruise before blowing gently across the skin.

His eyes never left her.

She had almost died. She was covered in bruises. Her neck still bore the unmistakable marks of Dorian’s fingers.

Yet here she was... Worrying about him.

His chest tightened again.

Lately, it had been happening far too often. Perhaps he really should stop postponing that visit to the doctor.

Maybe a full-body MRI... Or every test modern medicine could possibly invent. Something was clearly wrong with him. Because none of this made any sense.

What was this strange pull he kept feeling toward her?

His hand moved almost on its own. He brushed a loose strand of hair away from her neck. The bruises came into view.

Five angry marks. Perfectly shaped like fingers.

For a heartbeat, he forgot how to breathe.

Then rage exploded inside him, pure, blinding rage. It surged through his veins with such violence that he felt as though his blood had turned to fire.

"Stop the car."

His voice was low and deadly.

He wanted to go back. He wanted to kill Dorian. Only then did it feel as though that burning inside him would finally quiet.

Before the chauffeur could react, Catherine reached over and wrapped both hands around his.

"Stay with me," she said softly.

Their eyes met. The murderous fury inside him hesitated. Then, impossibly... it ebbed.

He didn’t understand why. He didn’t even try to pull his hand away. Her hands were warm and steady. For some reason, they soothed the inferno raging inside him.

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

When they reached the private terminal, Fitzgerald escorted her toward her jet. She stopped before climbing the stairs and turned to face him.

"Don’t contact Dorian," she said. "Like I told you before, stay away from him."

He frowned.

"I want to be the one who pays him back." Her gaze never wavered. "Give me that much."

Fitzgerald studied her for a long moment. "Is this how you convinced your brothers?" he asked dryly.

Catherine let out a weary sigh. "Promise me."

It wasn’t a request born of pride. It was her battle to finish.

Fitzgerald scoffed, shaking his head. "Fine."

As Catherine smiled faintly in relief, he found himself wondering how anyone could ever refuse those eyes.

Maybe... That was exactly how she’d convinced all of them.

-----

Back in the ICU, a cluster of doctors stood around Maximilian’s bed, studying the monitors with growing concentration. Alexander watched from the corner, his brows knitted together.

Catherine was on her way back. That was for the best.

And if Maximilian recovered...

One of the monitors suddenly changed rhythm. A doctor frowned.

"His brain activity is increasing."

Another leaned closer.

"His pupils."

A finger twitched. Then another.

Alexander’s breath caught.

Slowly...

Maximilian’s eyes opened.

For a heartbeat, the entire room froze. Then relief crashed over Alexander.

"Max..." He stepped into the room before he even realized he was moving.

But before anyone could reach him, Maximilian suddenly lurched upright.

"Katerina, adsum tibi."

Katerina, I’m here for you.

His wild gaze darted around the unfamiliar room, landing on glowing monitors, strange machines, and faces he had never seen before.

"Katerina! Ubi es?"

Katerina! Where are you?

The nurses rushed toward him, afraid he would tear out the IVs.

"Quis estis? Quid vultis?"

Who are you? What do you want?

He jerked away from their hands.

"Manus vestras sordidas a me removete!"

Remove your filthy hands from me!

Several nurses tried to steady him before he could fall.

"Dimittite me!"

Release me!

"Katerina! Responde mihi!"

Katerina! Answer me!

Alexander stopped in his tracks. Only then did he understand why Catherine had insisted he be here when Maximilian woke.

She hadn’t been worried about his body. She had been worried about his mind.

Did she know... Did she somehow know he would wake speaking Latin?

Maximilian struggled to climb out of the bed, but weeks of lying unconscious had stolen the strength from his legs.

The moment his feet touched the floor, they buckled. Alexander reached him just in time and caught him before he fell.

Maximilian stared at him in stunned silence. His breathing hitched.

"Princeps... frater mi..." His blue-violet eyes widened. "Quomodo hic ades?"

My prince... my brother... how are you here?

For the first time since opening his eyes, the panic eased. Seeing Alexander had grounded him.

Yet confusion still clouded his face as he looked around the room, like a king ripped from the Middle Ages and abandoned in a world he could not comprehend.

Before Alexander could say a word...

The ICU doors burst open. Samantha stumbled inside, tears streaming down her face.

"Uncle Alex..." She could barely breathe. "The jet..." Her voice broke. "Aunt Cathy..."

Alexander’s heart lurched. "Sammy, take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

Sammy collapsed to her knees.

"Aunt Cathy..." she wheezed. "They said the jet exploded... midair..."