Chapter 4 - The Secret Beneath The Ribbons
Daniel knelt beside Kara’s chair instantly, his towering, dangerous aura evaporating the second his eyes met hers. His large, warm hands hovered gently around her shoulders, afraid to squeeze too hard, afraid to cause any more pain.
"Kara. Look at me." His voice was entirely different now—steady, velvet-soft, filled with a raw, desperate tenderness that only she ever heard. "Where did he touch you? Let me see your neck."
Kara pressed her hand against her bruised throat, shaking her head. "I'm... I'm okay, Daniel. Just... just startled."
"You're shaking," he murmured, his thumb tenderly brushing away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. The angry red marks of Liam’s fingers stood out sharply against her pale skin, and the sight of them made a dark, dangerous shadow cross Daniel’s eyes once more. He looked over his shoulder at Marcus, who was already dragging a weeping, screaming Liam out through the glass doors toward a waiting black SUV.
"Make sure he never sees daylight in this hemisphere again," Daniel instructed quietly.
"Boss," Marcus acknowledged, hauling Liam out into the grey Manhattan morning.
Kara clutched the small velvet pouch in her pocket tighter, feeling the sharp corner of the ultrasound photo digging into her palm. She had planned to tell him tonight over candlelit dinner in their private garden room. She had planned for romance, for quiet laughter, for a perfect, unbroken moment.
Instead, she had been attacked in a public café, and her husband had just casually dismantled a man’s life in thirty seconds flat.
"We need to go home," Daniel said, slipping his arm gently around her waist, supporting her weight as she stood up. "The car is outside. I'm taking you to our private physician to get those marks checked."
"No, Daniel, I'm fine," Kara insisted, though her knees felt weak beneath her. "Really. Let's just... let's go back to the penthouse."
Daniel studied her face for a long moment, his sharp eyes searching her expression for any sign of hidden trauma. Then he nodded slowly, his arm tightening protectively around her. "Alright. Home."
As they stepped out of the café and into the cool autumn air, the black Maybach waited at the curb with its engine idling. The city around them hummed with its usual indifferent rhythm, oblivious to the storm that had just passed through.
Back inside the penthouse, the silence of the Tribeca loft felt different. It wasn't the peaceful, honey-warm solitude Kara had enjoyed that morning. It felt charged, heavy with unsaid words and lingering adrenaline.
Daniel led her to the master suite, insisting she sit on the edge of the velvet armchair while he fetched a warm cloth and soothing antiseptic from the private medical kit in their en-suite bath. When he returned, he knelt on the floor in front of her, his movements agonizingly careful.
He dabbed the cool cloth against the purple bruises on her neck. Every touch of his fingers was feather-light, a stark contrast to the brutal strength he had displayed just an hour earlier.
"I told you," Daniel murmured, his jaw tight as he stared at the bruising. "I told you he would never stand close enough to scare you again. I failed today."
"You didn't fail," Kara whispered, reaching out to cup his cheek. His skin was warm, his jaw hard as granite. "You got there. You always get there."
Daniel leaned his face into her palm, closing his eyes for a brief second. "I want to tear this city apart, Kara. Every time someone looks at you wrong, every time a ghost from your past tries to reach into your life, I feel like burning the whole machine down."
Kara’s heart swelled. She looked down at him—the man feared by dock bosses, politicians, and syndicates across the entire eastern seaboard—and realized that beneath the armor of the Wolf of the Harbor, he was entirely, utterly devoted to her.
"There's something I need to show you," Kara said softly.
Daniel opened his eyes, looking up at her with guarded curiosity. "What is it?"
May you like
She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out the small velvet pouch, and placed it directly into his large, calloused palm.
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