Chapter 2 - Unholy Wrath
Liam sank to his knees, his face contorted in agony as Daniel effortlessly broke his wrist, forcing him to release Kara’s throat.
The moment she was free, Kara collapsed forward, drawing in a desperate, ragged breath. Air rushed into her burning lungs, causing her to cough violently. Before she could fall off the seat, Daniel’s arm was around her, lifting her gently, pulling her tightly against his broad chest. The sheer contrast between his brutal violence toward Liam and the feather-light tenderness with which he held her was breathtaking.
“I have you,” Daniel murmured into her hair, his deep voice shaking with a rare, controlled vibration of emotion. “I have you, my love. Breathe.”
“Daniel…” she choked out, clutching his lapels, burying her face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of cedarwood and costly cologne. “The baby… Daniel, the baby…”
Daniel froze. The universe seemed to stop spinning for him in that singular second. His hand, which had been resting on her back, moved down with delicate precision to hover over her stomach. He looked down at her, his dark eyes wide with an unspoken, surging awe, before glancing at the crumpled paper on the marble table.
An ultrasound image.
The violent rage in Daniel’s eyes metamorphosed into something far more dangerous: an ancient, unyielding protective wrath. He cradled Kara against his side, turning his gaze back down to Liam Mercer, who was whimpering on the floor, cradling his broken wrist.
“You,” Daniel whispered softly.
Liam looked up, pale, sweating, his eyes finally registering the absolute doom standing over him. He recognized Daniel now. Not just from the news, but from the terrifying whispers that circulated in the underbelly of New York. The Wolf of the Harbor.
“P-please,” Liam stammered, scrambling backward across the hardwood floor, leaving a streak of sweat and fear. “I didn't know! I didn't know she was with you! I was just angry! She ruined my life—”
“Marcus,” Daniel said calmly, not taking his eyes off the trembling man.
The lead security guard stepped forward. “Yes, Mr. Rourke?”
“Clear the café. Pay the owner for the damage. Pay every customer ten thousand dollars to delete any footage on their phones and forget they ever saw this face.”
“Understood, sir.”
Marcus nodded to the second guard, who immediately began shepherding the terrified patrons out the back and front doors, slipping thick stacks of bills and business cards into hands, locking the front door behind them, and flipping the sign to 'CLOSED'.
Within two minutes, the café was dead silent, save for Liam’s pathetic whimpering.
Daniel carried Kara to a nearby dry booth, sitting her down gently, wrapping his heavy overcoat around her shivering shoulders. He cupped her face in his large, warm hands, inspecting the dark red bruises already beginning to bloom across her delicate skin.
“Did he hit you anywhere else?” Daniel asked, his voice low and intense. “Did he touch your stomach?”
“No,” Kara wept softly, shaking her head. “No, just… just my neck. Daniel, I went to the doctor this morning. I’m four weeks pregnant. I wanted to surprise you…”
Daniel closed his eyes for a brief second, resting his forehead against hers. A single, heavy breath escaped him. “You gave me the greatest gift of my life, Kara,” he whispered, kissing her bruised throat with unbearable gentleness. “And this scum dared to put his hands on you.”
He stood up.
The atmosphere in the locked café shifted from tense to apocalyptic. Daniel turned around, unbuttoning the front of his suit jacket. He walked over to where Liam was cowering against the front counter.
“You don't know who I am, do you?” Daniel asked softly.
“I do! I do!” Liam sobbed, tears and snot pouring down his face. “You’re Daniel Rourke! Please, Mr. Rourke, it was a mistake! She was my girlfriend first! She lied about me!”
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Daniel kicked Liam’s knee with precise, devastating force. Another loud crack echoed, and Liam screamed, collapsing entirely flat onto the floor.
“She is my wife,” Daniel corrected quietly, stepping on Liam’s chest, applying just enough pressure to make the man gasp for air. “She is the mother of my child. And you are a ghost who forgot he was dead.”
