Chapter 978

Rosalind's icy glare cut through the drunken man like a winter wind. "Get out of my sight!"

She turned on her heel, only to be blocked by another intoxicated heir.

"Three million for one dance!" he slurred, waving a platinum card.

A derisive laugh escaped Rosalind's lips. "How about five million to vanish right now?"

As a Fairchild heiress, money meant nothing to her.

Before they could react, she pivoted sharply toward the exit.

"Wait!" A sweaty hand grabbed for her wrist.

Rosalind twisted away, but her stiletto caught on the carpet. She gasped as her center of gravity shifted dangerously forward.

"Ah!"

Her hands flew protectively to her abdomen.

Instead of cold marble, she collided with a solid wall of muscle. Strong arms encircled her as she looked up into Lucian Graves' chiseled features, his stormy gray eyes burning with barely restrained fury.

Lucian was here.

Rosalind's breath hitched. "What are you—"

"You'd be on the floor if I hadn't come," he murmured, his grip tightening possessively around her waist.

The drunkards staggered closer. "Back off, pretty boy! We saw her first!"

Neither recognized the CEO of Quantum Innovations.

Lucian's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "My woman isn't some party favor for your amusement."

Rosalind's pulse stuttered. His woman?

But they'd ended things weeks ago.

The heirs, emboldened by liquor and entitlement, swung wild punches. "We'll take her from your cold dead hands!"

"Lucian!" Rosalind cried out.

In one fluid motion, he tucked her behind him. A sickening crack echoed as he broke the first attacker's wrist, followed by a brutal knee to the other's groin. Both collapsed howling.

"Guards! Kill him!" they shrieked.

A dozen bodyguards materialized, smashing bottles for weapons.

Rosalind clutched Lucian's sleeve, her doe eyes wide. "Look what you started!"

All she'd wanted was a bathroom break, not a warzone.

Lucian's jaw tightened as he shoved her toward a plush booth. "Stay. Put."

Hands cradling her belly, Rosalind nodded frantically. "I'm not moving!"

The ambush came fast.

Lucian moved faster.

Rosalind watched, transfixed, as he dismantled them with terrifying precision—elbows cracking jaws, kicks shattering kneecaps, every movement economical and brutal.

She'd seen him fight before, but never like this. Never with such feral protectiveness. Each strike carried the weight of unspoken promises, a primal declaration that reverberated through the chaos.