My Ex-Husband Begged Me to Take Him Back - Chapter 132

Chapter 132: Had he truly changed?

Dylan looked up and saw the man charging at him with the knife. His instincts took over, and he caught the attacker’s wrist just in time. The knife hovered dangerously close to his stomach, so close he could feel the cold edge grazing his shirt.

Both men locked eyes ferociously. Dylan noticed a distinct scar on the man’s brow. He wanted to see the man’s face, to unmask the coward who dared to harm Ava, but the struggle for the knife kept him pinned in the moment.

Dylan tightened his grip, and the man’s hold on the knife began to lose, his fingers numbing. With a swift twist, he forced the attacker to release the weapon. The blade clattered to the ground.

“Ugh…” the man groaned in pain as Dylan twisted his wrist further.

“Show me your face,” Dylan growled through clenched teeth, his hand darting to the mask. His fingers gripped the fabric, yanking it back. But before he could see his face, the man shoved him aside and fled, leaving Dylan holding the ripped mask.

“Hey! Stop right there,” Dylan bellowed, his muscles coiled as he chased him.

“Dylan, no!” Ava cried out, fearing more men could be lurking out there.

He stopped mid-stride, his body trembling with restrained anger as he watched the figure vanish into the shadows. Turning sharply, Dylan hurried back to Ava. His eyes scanned her for any signs of injuries as he gripped her shoulders.

“Are you alright?”

Ava shook her head, her composure breaking. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly. Dylan’s arms wrapped around her protectively, pulling her close. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“You are safe now,” he cooed, comforting her. “I’ve got you. Let’s go home.”

Without another word, Dylan guided her to the car, his hand resting firmly on her back. His mind was with the attacker and every cell of his body wanted to chase him after. But for now, his priority was Ava’s safety.

Dylan opened the passenger door and helped Ava settle into her seat before quickly sliding into the driver’s side. His jaw was tight, his muscles tense as he gripped the steering wheel. His mind was far from relief—it was fixated on what had just transpired.

Ava’s eyes caught the crimson smudges on his knuckles. “You are hurt,” she exclaimed, her heart clenching.

It was only at that point Dylan realized his knuckles were torn open. He flexed his fingers, dismissing the sharp sting. “It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Just scratches. They’ll heal in a few days.” His gaze softened as it shifted back to her. “What matters is that you’re safe.”

Ava’s chest tightened at his words. The raw earnestness in his eyes left her speechless. She studied him silently, her gratitude bubbling up. “Thank you… for saving me.”

“It’s my duty.” His lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile, a flicker of warmth breaking through his otherwise stormy expression. He steered the car out of the area.

Ava couldn’t look away from him, her heart heavy with emotions she couldn’t quite name. She leaned back in her seat, silent, but inside, her thoughts swirled with a mix of relief and admiration.

Dylan kept his focus on the road ahead. Though the danger had passed momentarily, his worry remained. He wouldn’t rest until he caught the man.

The journey to the villa passed in a haze, Ava barely aware of the passing scenery. When they arrived, she moved mechanically into the bedroom.

Now, standing under the cascading warmth of the shower, her body was being cleansed, but her mind remained burdened. The chilling events of earlier clung to her like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Her chest felt tight as she replayed the scene in her mind. Dylan had saved her for the second time, risking his life. He could have gotten seriously injured and even killed. But he stood his ground and fought the attacker.

She remembered the desperation in his eyes, the way his voice had trembled when he pleaded with the masked man. Dylan, who rarely admitted fault or bent to anyone’s will, had dropped to his knees. The sight of him begging for her safety was both humbling and heart-wrenching.

Her fingers gripped the tiled wall as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, blending seamlessly with the water. She couldn’t reconcile the Dylan she knew with the one who had begged someone else on his knees to ensure her safety.

Ava had never imagined he could go to such lengths for her. Was this the same Dylan who once seemed so cold, so distant? Had he truly changed? Could Dylan really care for her in ways she hadn’t allowed herself to believe?

Her mind circled back to his injuries—the torn knuckles. She had no idea if he had tended to his wounds. Wrapping herself in a towel, she stepped out of the shower.

Inside the study…

While Ava was bathing, Dylan called Justin and informed him of the attack on them. “I want that man,” he growled. “Find him.” The memory of the attack still burned in his veins, fueling his anger.

“Consider it done, sir,” Justin replied resolutely. “I’ll find him, even if he is hiding in hell. Give me a few hours.”

The call ended. Dylan pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his chair as if trying to push away the headache threatening to take hold. “Martha!” he called, his tone gruff.

Martha entered swiftly, her hands folded in front of her. “Yes, sir?”

“Bring some coffee.”

“I’ll bring it right away.” Martha gave a quick nod before hurrying out.

Meanwhile, Ava changed into a comfortable outfit, her hair still damp. After drying her hair, she stepped out of the room and found Martha going toward the study with a cup of coffee.

“Martha!” she called out.

Martha stopped and turned to her with a polite smile. “Do you need anything, madam?”

Ava shook her head. “No, it’s fine. You go and tend to other things. I’ll take the coffee to him.”

“Of course, madam.” Martha handed Ava the cup and quietly disappeared down the hallway.

Ava inhaled deeply, mustering courage, and quietly pushed the study door open. Inside, Dylan sat reclined in the plush chair behind the mahogany desk, his head tilted back, and his eyes shut tightly as if he had drifted into sleep.

Tiptoeing forward, Ava placed the steaming cup of coffee on the desk, her movements light enough not to disturb him. Her gaze was drawn to his bruised knuckles resting on the table. The image of Dylan fighting the attacker flashed in her mind.

Ava gently brushed her fingertips over his battered knuckles. Her soft touch, however, startled Dylan awake. His eyes snapped open as he straightened in the chair, his hand instinctively catching her wrist.