A Dance with Danger

Chapter Forty-Two

**Estelle POV**

I stood behind Tiberius, my arms crossed as I watched the trucker, Stanley, shift nervously under my husband’s sharp gaze. The air crackled with barely restrained anger, the kind of fury that made men tremble.

Tiberius sat behind his massive oak desk, fingers interlocked, his expression unreadable—but I knew him well enough to see the storm brewing beneath the surface. 

The scent of whiskey and cigars lingered in the room, mixed with the faint metallic tang of the gun resting on the desk in front of Tiberius. His fingers tapped against the polished wood, the only sound breaking the silence.

I studied Stanley, who stood fidgeting with his cap, sweat glistening on his forehead despite the cool air-conditioning. 

Tiberius leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze never leaving the man. "Tell me again," he said, his voice calm—too calm. "How does a trailer full of weapons just... disappear?" 

Stanley swallowed hard. "Boss, I swear, I— I don’t know how it happened. I drove the route like always. Stopped at the checkpoints, kept my eyes open. But when I got to the final drop-off, the trailer was gone. Just gone. Like it vanished into thin air!" 

I frowned. That didn’t make sense. A trailer full of weapons doesn’t just disappear. There were procedures in place, men at every checkpoint, eyes watching every route. Tiberius ran his operation with precision—there was no room for mistakes. 

Tiberius remained quiet, studying Stanley like a predator sizing up its prey. 

I shifted slightly. "That doesn’t make sense," I muttered under my breath. 

Stanley’s head snapped toward me so fast I thought he might snap his neck. His face twisted with irritation as he barked, "You need to keep your mouth shut, lady. This ain’t your concern." 

Silence slammed into the room like a gunshot. 

I felt Tiberius still in his seat. My breath caught in my throat. 

Stanley must have realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth because his face drained of color. The muscles in Tiberius’ jaw tensed. Without a word, he reached for the gun on his desk, lifted it with a casual ease, and— 

BANG.

The sound of the gunshot echoed through the room, sharp and final. 

Stanley howled, stumbling back as he clutched his ear, blood trickling between his fingers. His cries of pain filled the space, but I barely heard them. My heart pounded against my ribs, adrenaline rushing through me in a dizzying wave. My gaze shot to Tiberius, whose face remained disturbingly calm as he lowered the gun. 

"Watch how you speak to my wife," he said, voice smooth, composed—deadly.

My stomach twisted. I’d seen Tiberius kill before. I’d seen him break men, shatter them, destroy them. But watching him do it in my defense sent a different kind of shiver down my spine. 

Stanley whimpered, still clutching his ear. His eyes darted between us, wide and glistening with terror. 

Tiberius didn’t even glance at him. Instead, he turned to me, motioning with a flick of his hand. "Go ahead, my Love." 

He was giving me the floor. He wanted me to speak.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself before stepping forward. I leveled Stanley with a look, ignoring the way his body trembled. He wasn’t just scared. He was terrified.