Volkov's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding from whatever drug they'd used to knock him out. The musty smell of the warehouse filled his nostrils, but something was different. Gone were the sounds of his men moving about, the familiar atmosphere of controlled menace he was accustomed to. Instead, there was an eerie quiet broken only by the soft hum of overhead lights.
He tried to move and realized his hands were zip-tied behind his back, secured to a metal chair. Panic began to set in as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.
Across from him sat a man he didn't recognize—young, well-dressed, with an unnervingly calm demeanor. To his right stood a striking woman in a black suit, flanked by two large men who looked like professional bodyguards. Further to the side, he could make out Patrick and Jason, also bound to chairs, their faces pale with terror.
"Finally awake," Aaron said, his voice casual, as if they were having a normal conversation.
Volkov's criminal instincts kicked in, his voice taking on the authoritative tone that had intimidated countless victims over the years. "What the hell is going on? Why am I here?"
"You're here because I brought you here," Aaron replied simply.
"Who are you?" Volkov demanded, trying to project strength despite his vulnerable position.
Aaron leaned forward slightly. "I'm the husband of the woman you tried to assault."
Volkov let out a harsh laugh, his bravado intact. "You? You've got to be kidding me. Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? If you let me go right now, I might consider sparing your life."
Aaron's expression didn't change. "You don't seem to realize what's happening here. You have no power. Not anymore."
"If something happens to me," Volkov snarled, "my men will hunt you and your family down. They'll make you beg for death."
Aaron gestured to one of the bodyguards, who stepped forward and held up a tablet. At first, Volkov glanced at it dismissively, but as the images registered, his face went ashen.
The screen showed aerial footage of his compounds being raided. Armed tactical teams swarming his warehouses. Bodies of his lieutenants being carried out in bags. His entire organization was being systematically dismantled in real-time.
"No," Volkov whispered, the blood draining from his face. "This isn't possible."
The true horror of his situation began to sink in. His empire, built over decades of violence and intimidation, was crumbling before his eyes.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his voice now stripped of all bravado.
Volkov turned desperately to Patrick and Jason. "You said her husband wasn't a problem! You said he was weak!"
Patrick and Jason stared back in shock, their own faces reflecting the same confusion and terror. They had no more understanding of Aaron's true identity than Volkov did.
Seeing his world collapsing around him, Volkov tried one last desperate gambit. "Look, I just wanted my money back from these two losers," he said, nodding toward Patrick and Jason. "They promised someone would pay their debt. I never intended any real harm to your wife—"
"Really?" Aaron interrupted, standing up slowly. "So you didn't want to take my wife? You didn't have plans for her?"
"No, I swear! I just wanted the money—"
Aaron smiled, but there was no warmth in it. He nodded to one of the bodyguards, who stepped forward and delivered a brutal punch to Volkov's stomach. The crime boss doubled over, gasping for air.
"Stop," Aaron said calmly, and the bodyguard immediately stepped back.
Aaron walked slowly toward Volkov until their faces were inches apart. When he spoke, his voice was deadly quiet.
"I'm not an idiot. I know everything about what you planned to do to my wife. For that, you will never walk again."
He turned to the bodyguard. "Break his arms and legs."
"No! Please!" Volkov's gangster persona completely vanished, replaced by the desperate pleas of a terrified man. "I'm sorry! I'll disappear! You'll never see me again!"
The bodyguard moved with clinical efficiency. The sound of breaking bones mixed with Volkov's agonized screams, echoing through the empty warehouse.
When it was finished, Aaron turned his attention to Patrick and Jason. Both men were hyperventilating, having witnessed what awaited those who crossed this mysterious man.
"Please," Patrick stammered, "we're family! We didn't know this would happen! We were desperate—"
"You sold my wife," Aaron said coldly. "You delivered her to a monster who would have destroyed her life."
"We had no choice!" Jason cried. "They were going to kill us!"
Aaron studied them for a long moment. "The only reason you're still breathing is because you're related to Sarah. But understand this—if I ever see either of you near my wife again, if you so much as call her, send her a message, or appear in the same city as her, I will end you. Permanently."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "But you won't get off completely free."
He nodded to the bodyguard. "One arm each."
"No, wait!" Patrick screamed, but the bodyguard was already moving. Their cries joined Volkov's in a symphony of pain and regret.
Aaron turned and walked away, leaving behind the broken remnants of the men who had threatened his wife. Outside, he got into the waiting black sedan where Natalie was reviewing documents on her tablet.
"Put all of Volkov's surviving men in maximum security prison," Aaron instructed as the car pulled away. "Volkov too, once his bones heal. And send Patrick and Jason to the farthest country you can find. Make sure they never come back."
"Of course, sir," Natalie replied. "And The King's Castle?"
"Buy it back. Whatever it costs."
"Already handled, sir. The buyer was one of our shell companies. The sale was reversed an hour ago."
Twenty minutes later, Aaron walked through the front doors of The King's Castle. The house felt different somehow—emptier, despite all the expensive furnishings. He found Sarah on the living room couch, still wearing the clothes from her ordeal, staring blankly at the wall.
She looked up when she heard his footsteps, and the relief in her eyes was overwhelming.
"Aaron," she whispered, and then she was in his arms, her body shaking with sobs she'd been holding back for hours.
"It's okay," he said softly, holding her tight. "You're safe now. They can't hurt you anymore."
"I was so scared," she cried into his shoulder. "I thought I was going to die. And my own uncle... my cousin... they sold me like I was nothing."
"They're gone," Aaron said firmly. "They can never come near you again."
Sarah pulled back to look at him, confusion mixing with her relief. "How did you know? How did the police know where to find us?"
Aaron gently brushed a tear from her cheek. "I got worried when I couldn't reach you, so I called around. I found out had left work abruptly without saying anything, I knew something was wrong, so I called the police." The lie came easily—he couldn't burden her with the truth right now, not when she was already so fragile.
Sarah nodded, accepting the explanation. She was too exhausted to question it further.
"I can't believe they betrayed me like that," she whispered. "My own family."
"They aren't your family," Aaron said firmly, pulling her close again. "Not after what they did. And I will never let them or anyone else hurt you like that ever again."
For the first time in hours, Sarah felt truly safe in Aaron's arms. Whatever had happened, whatever forces had conspired to rescue her, all that mattered was that she was home with the one person who truly cared about her.