Twelve minutes. That was how long it had been since Celina Hart bolted out of the research facility with the prototype vial pressed to her chest.
Twelve minutes of sprinting through side streets and alleyways, heart pounding, lungs burning, adrenaline pushing her past fear and common sense.
She couldn't stop. If she stopped, they'd catch her.
Her sneakers splashed through a filthy puddle as she turned down another dimly lit alleyway, the satchel strap biting into her shoulder. Her breath came in gasps, each one sharp and ragged as she forced her legs to keep moving.
Behind her, footsteps thundered, growing louder.
"She went this way!"
Celina's panic spiked. She didn't dare look back.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She had gone to the lab after hours just to check on her brother's medical chart—just to confirm whether they were really pulling him from the clinical trial. Instead, she'd overheard a conversation. One she wasn't meant to hear.
A cure. The real thing. Hidden away for "higher-priority" patients.
Her brother wasn't one of them. Not anymore. But he could be, if she had the vial.
So she took it.
And now they were hunting her like prey.
Celina spotted a gap between two dumpsters and slid through it, wincing as something scraped her shoulder. She crouched behind a stack of crates, clutching the bag to her chest as she fumbled for her phone.
No signal.
Of course. The alleys were deep enough in the industrial quarter that even the rats struggled to survive, let alone cell towers.
Her mind raced. If she could make it two more blocks, she'd reach the main street. People. Lights. Cameras. Safety.
Celina took a deep breath. She could do this. She had to do this.
She crept forward, peeking out from behind the crates. The alley ahead stretched into darkness. No sign of the men. No noise. Just the distant hum of a generator and her own pulse pounding in her ears.
She stood up—
—and froze.
A figure stood at the end of the alley, cloaked in shadow. Tall. Still. Watching her.
Her blood turned to ice.
He wasn't part of the team chasing her. She knew their voices, their frantic steps. This man was something else. Something quieter.
Dangerous.
She backed away slowly, hands raised. "I—I don't want trouble. Just let me pass."
The figure didn't move.
Behind her, the sound of footsteps returned. Rapid. Aggressive.
Her eyes darted between the stranger and the oncoming men.
Trapped.
Then—chaos.
Three men burst into the alley, weapons drawn. One had a stun baton, another a gun. The third, a steel pipe.
"There you are," one growled. "Thought you could run forever?"
Celina opened her mouth, but before she could scream, the stranger moved.
He was a blur—silent, precise, lethal.
The man with the baton fell first, his weapon knocked from his grip as the stranger struck with a force that sent him crumpling to the ground. The one with the pipe lunged, swinging, but the figure ducked, twisted, and slammed a fist into the man's ribs. A sickening crack echoed through the alley.
The last one raised the gun—too slow.
The stranger was already on him.
He didn't use a gun. He didn't need to.
In less than twenty seconds, all three attackers were unconscious or groaning in agony.
Celina stood frozen in place, unable to look away. The stranger turned toward her, face still hidden beneath a hood, chest rising and falling with measured breath.
A faint glint of steel caught her eye as he slid a blade back into a thigh holster.
He saved her life.
And she had no idea why.
She swallowed hard. "T-Thank you," she managed to whisper.
He didn't reply. Didn't even nod.
He simply stared at her for a moment too long—like he was memorizing every feature of her face.
Then, he turned and vanished into the shadows, as if he'd never been there at all.
Two weeks later.
Celina sat in the marble waiting room of an elite private hospital, staring at the glossy contract in front of her. The logo in the corner read Kael International Holdings—a name she'd only heard whispered among billionaires, corporate tycoons, and power players she'd never dreamed of meeting.
A woman in a sleek gray pantsuit stood across from her, arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable.
"This is... insane," Celina whispered, eyes scanning the legal jargon again. "You're offering to cover my brother's entire treatment plan. Full care. Full recovery. But you want me to marry someone I've never even met?"
"You have met him, Miss Hart," the woman replied smoothly. "He prefers to remain unnamed until the ceremony. But rest assured, he has seen you before."
That chilled her more than she wanted to admit.
"This is illegal. Or—it has to be."
"It's not. Everything is legal and binding, as you'll see in the final clause. If you sign, the marriage ceremony will be held tonight. Confidentially. And your brother's treatment begins first thing tomorrow morning."
Celina's hands shook as she picked up the pen.
Her brother's condition was worsening. The last visit to the hospital nearly broke her—he was pale, frail, and slipping further every day. They had weeks left, at best.
She looked up, heart racing. "What does he want from me?"
The woman's expression softened, just slightly. "Your presence. Nothing else will be expected unless you choose otherwise."
Celina gripped the pen tighter.
Her instincts screamed at her to walk away.
But she remembered her brother's hollow voice asking if he'd ever see a beach again.
She signed.
That evening.
The room smelled like lavender and wealth.
Celina stood in a flowing white dress she hadn't picked, her hair pinned in soft waves, makeup airbrushed to perfection. She barely recognized herself in the floor-length mirror. She looked like a bride from a fairytale.
Only this was no fairytale.
No guests. No flowers. No photos. Just a contract and a closed-door ceremony in a private estate outside the city.
A priest waited quietly near the fireplace. The lawyer stood to the side, watching the clock.
And then he entered.
Her husband-to-be.
Celina turned—and the air vanished from her lungs.
It was him.
The man from the alley.
The killer in the shadows.
He stepped forward, dressed in an elegant black suit, no tie. His face was no longer hidden, and now she saw him clearly—sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, ice-gray eyes that felt like they could slice through lies.
Darius Kael.
The name echoed in her skull like a warning bell.
Whispers of him existed in the underworld. Business tycoon by day, ruthless operator by night. Some said he had connections to mercenaries. Others said he was one.
But she knew one thing for sure.
He had saved her life. And now... he owned it.
Darius stopped just a step away from her, gaze steady. His voice was low, rich, and calm.
"Celina Hart. Do you accept this union, knowing its terms?"
She wanted to scream. To ask why. To demand answers.
But all she managed was a quiet, shaky: "Yes."
When he slipped the ring on her finger, his touch was warm. Steady. As if he wasn't the man who had taken down three men in less than a minute without breaking a sweat.
As if he wasn't the man who had vanished without a trace.
The priest spoke the final words. The contract was sealed.
Celina Hart became Celina Kael.
And she had no idea what she'd just walked into.
Later that night.
Her new husband led her to a private suite in the mansion. The room was beautiful—vaulted ceilings, silk curtains, a fireplace burning low.
Darius stood near the window, back to her.
Celina hesitated by the door, unsure of what to say.
He spoke first.
"You're safe now. No one will touch you again."
She swallowed. "Why me? Why did you choose me?"
He didn't turn around. "Because I owed you."
Her brows furrowed. "What does that mean?"
A pause. Heavy. Final.
"It means… this is the only way to protect you."
He turned then, and for a moment, she saw something in his eyes that didn't match the cold mask he wore.
Regret.
But it vanished too quickly to be sure.
"Rest," he said, walking toward the door. "You'll need your strength for what's coming."
Then he was gone.
Celina stood alone in the silence, her heart pounding.
She didn't know what she had gotten herself into.
But something told her—
This marriage was only the beginning.