A Dance with Danger

Chapter Sixty-Seven

**Estelle POV** 

I woke up with a pounding headache, a groan slipping past my lips as my eyes fluttered open. The harsh brightness of the white walls and the soft beeping of a machine confirmed my suspicion—I was in a hospital. 

Confusion settled over me as I tried to remember how I got here. 

A presence to my left caught my attention, and when I turned my head, I found Tiberius already watching me. His forest-green eyes, usually filled with warmth, were guarded, scanning my face carefully. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice steady, but there was an edge to it. 

"Yes," I croaked out. My throat was dry, my body sluggish. "What happened? Why am I here?" 

Tiberius sat up straighter, his jaw tightening. "You were drugged," he said, his voice dark. "They almost took you out of the club." 

His words sent a chill down my spine. 

Drugged? 

Taken

I swallowed hard, flashes of the night coming back in pieces. Dancing. A drink. Darkness.  

I barely remembered anything beyond that. 

Tiberius reached forward, gently grabbing my hand, his touch grounding me. "You're safe now," he murmured. But the storm in his eyes told me someone wouldn’t be for long. 

Two Days Later

I spent the next two days in the hospital under observation, and by the third morning, I was discharged. 

Now, I sat in a tub filled with warm water, bubbles and rose petals floating on the surface—a gesture Tiberius had prepared for me. 

He’s so sweet.

Even now, after everything, he hadn’t left my side. 

I ran my fingers through the water, thinking back on the last few days. Tiberius had been quiet, too quiet. Something was brewing behind those sharp eyes of his. 

And I needed to find out what. 

After drying off and slipping into one of his shirts—because I knew he liked it—I padded out of our bedroom, my bare feet silent against the floor as I moved through the mansion. 

I searched each wing carefully, scanning the hallways for my six-foot-eight husband. 

Then, I found it.

A door slightly ajar. 

Something in my gut told me I shouldn’t open it. 

But I did. 

And I instantly wished I hadn't. 

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of blood. A man sat bound to a chair in the center, his face swollen and bruised, his head slumped forward in exhaustion. 

And standing over him—was Tiberius. 

No. 

Not Tiberius

The man in the chair stirred, catching sight of me, his bloodshot eyes widening. "No! Not Tiberius!" he rasped.

He didn’t get to finish. 

Tiberius plunged a knife into his thigh, silencing his screams with sheer pain. 

I took an involuntary step back, my heart hammering in my chest.  His smirk was slow, dark, laced with something predatory. 

"You look beautiful in my shirt, baby girl," he murmured. His voice was deeper, huskier, rough around the edges in a way that sent chills through me. 

I knew about this side of him—the legend of his ruthless alter ego, the nightmare men spoke of in hushed tones. 

But I had never met him. 

Until now. 

And I wasn't sure if I should be terrified or intrigued. 

His gaze never left mine as I slowly walked toward him, ignoring the man in the chair, ignoring the warning bells in my head. 

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. 

Tiberius tilted his head, as if amused by my question. "This man and his crew were ordered to take you," he said. "To deliver you to Roman and two other bastards." 

Roman. 

I clenched my fists. That traitor. 

Diablo drove the knife deeper into the man’s thigh, twisting it cruelly. The man let out a ragged scream, his body convulsing in agony. 

"He doesn't know the other bastards' names," Tiberius added. 

I exhaled sharply, then lifted my gaze to meet his. 

His eyes were darker than I had ever seen them, devoid of the warmth I loved. 

I reached forward, cupping his face with both hands, forcing him to look at me. 

"ti," I whispered, my fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw. "Be a good husband..." 

His smirk widened slightly. 

"...and kill the man who tried to take your wife." 

Something shifted in his expression. 

Approval. 

Pleasure. 

Possession. 

And then—

A single shot rang out. 

The man in the chair slumped forward, blood splattering against the floor as the bullet lodged itself into the side of his skull. 

The room fell into silence. 

Then, as if nothing had happened, Tiberius turned back to me, his free hand wrapping around my waist as he pulled me against his chest. 

The warmth of his body against mine was almost dizzying. 

"You didn’t even flinch," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. 

I met his gaze, tilting my head up to press a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips. He responded instantly, his grip tightening, his other hand tangling in my hair. 

When I finally pulled away, I met his darkened eyes and whispered, "Why didn’t you ever tell me about this side of you?" 

His smirk was wicked. 

"Would it have changed anything?" 

I thought about it. 

Then shook my head. 

"No."