Rebirth: Love me Again - Chapter 320

Chapter 320: Blood, Smoke, and Stubborn Hearts
 

[IRAYA]

Barkley chuckled, then turned his gaze on me. “Looks like he really cares about you, babe. Aren’t you a lucky girl?”

Lucky? Was I supposed to feel lucky?

Instead of relief, a different emotion surged through me. Anger. I didn’t know why I did but when I saw Lyander apologizing, something snapped inside me. This bald bastard thought he could get what he wanted and get away with it unscathed?

I didn’t even think. I just moved.

With all my might, I slammed my forehead into Barkley’s face. A sickening crack echoed as pain exploded in my skull, but it was worth it when he let out a strangled grunt and loosened his grip.

The next thing I knew, I was falling.

Shit.

The ground rushed toward me, and I braced for impact, a scream ripping from my lips. I was ready for broken bones, for searing pain—

But it never came.

Instead, I landed against something firm. Warm. Strong.

I blinked up in shock.

Lyander was holding me.

Princess style.

Grinning from ear to ear.

I gaped at him. “You—”

He smirked. “If you wanted to fall for me, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

I was going to kill him.

Maybe not right now, maybe not even soon, but someday.

“This is all your fault,” I seethed, shooting a glare at Lyander.

He barely spared me a glance, his lips quirking up in amusement. “Right, right. Being my woman does come with its perks.”

“What do you mean, being your woman?!” I practically shrieked.

Before I could launch into a full-blown rant, he casually set me down—like I was nothing more than an inconvenience—before rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles. His attention shifted back to Barkley, his grin stretching into something sharp, dangerous.

“Now . . . where were we again?”

Barkley, still clutching his bleeding nose from my earlier headbutt, pointed a shaking finger at me. His eyes burned with hatred as he spat, “You wretched woman! I’ll make sure my men rape you over and over again until your own family won’t even recognize you anymo—”

Thwack!

A sickening sound echoed in the air, and the words died on his lips.

Silence.

My breath caught in my throat as Barkley froze, his eyes going wide in shock. A knife was embedded squarely in the middle of his forehead.

For a split second, nobody moved. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Barkley collapsed, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

My gaze snapped to Lyander, who stood there, arm still extended from the throw, completely unfazed. He scoffed and dusted off his hands as if he had just swatted a fly.

“You talk too much, you pig,” he muttered. Then his voice hardened, his next words slicing through the air like the very knife he had just thrown.

“No one says something like that about my woman.”

Wait, what?!

Before I could process that outrageous claim, Lyander raised his hand and flicked his fingers in a lazy motion.

“Finish them all.”

And just like that, hell erupted.

Gunfire, the clash of steel, and the sickening crunch of fists meeting flesh exploded around me. Barkley’s men scrambled for their weapons, but Lyander’s people were faster. Bodies slammed into each other, shouts and screams blending into a chaotic symphony of violence.

I did the only thing I could do.

I ran.

Correction: I scrambled like my life depended on it—because it did.

Spotting two stacked tires, I dove between them, wedging myself in so tightly that I may as well have been trying to fuse with the rubber. If I could just disappear, maybe—just maybe—I wouldn’t get caught in this insanity.

Through the gaps, I caught flashes of movement—men going down one after another, blood splattering across the concrete. A severed hand landed a few feet away from me, and I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat.

Oh, hell no.

What had I gotten myself into?!

This wasn’t some street brawl—this was a full-blown massacre. And me? I was just some idiot who got dragged into the middle of it all.

I wanted to cry. Or throw up. Or maybe just die quietly so I wouldn’t have to witness whatever the hell was happening.

And yet, even as my survival instincts screamed at me to stay hidden, my mind couldn’t stop replaying that moment—Lyander, grinning like a devil, tossing that knife like it was child’s play, his words echoing in my ears.

“No one says something like that about my woman.”

My face burned.

I hated him.

I really, really hated him.

But damn it, my heart didn’t seem to get the memo.

I didn’t know what happened next.

One minute, there was chaos—gunfire, shouting, the clash of fists and steel. The next, silence.

The scent of blood hung heavy in the air.

Lyander stood in the middle of it all, completely unbothered, a cigarette already perched between his lips as he flicked his lighter open. The small flame cast a brief glow over his face before he took a slow, deep drag, exhaling smoke like he hadn’t just ordered a massacre.

Around him, bodies littered the ground—some groaning in pain, others completely still.

He barely spared them a glance.

“Have someone clean this up,” he said coolly. “And let this be a warning. If anyone else wants to end up like this pig here . . .” His gaze flicked down at Barkley’s corpse, the knife still lodged in his skull. “. . . they’re welcome to cross me.”

One of his men nodded. “Got it, boss.”

With that, Lyander finally turned to me, exhaling another stream of smoke before speaking.

“Are you okay?”

I stared at him.

Then I blinked.

Then I stared again.

Was he seriously asking me that?

“Am I okay?” I repeated, my voice rising with every syllable. “Are you seriously asking me that?!”

He gave me a once-over, completely unfazed by my outrage. Then he nodded to himself, lips twitching in amusement.

“Looks like you’re fine. Good. As my woman, you’ll need that grit if you want to be with me.”

I choked.

“I don’t want to be with you!” I snapped, shoving myself up from my hiding spot.

Or at least, I tried to.