Chapter 180 That man
Ethan’s POV
Her final words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. I stood there, frozen, watching as Aria turned toward the elevator.
My legs moved before my brain could catch up—I had to stop her, had to make her understand.
But suddenly, a massive figure materialized out of nowhere, blocking my path. The man was built like a brick wall, his suit straining against muscles that spoke of serious training.
"Stop right there, sir." His voice was flat, emotionless. "No unauthorized entry without a resident’s invitation."
I barely spared him a glance. Just some building security guard on a power trip.
"Get the hell out of my way," I snapped, trying to push past. "The woman who just went in is my wife. This is none of your business."
I took exactly one step before two more men appeared behind me. At a subtle nod from the first guard, they seized my arms with grips like steel vises.
These weren’t ordinary security guards. The realization hit too late as I tried to break free, only to find myself completely immobilized. Their faces were carved from ice, radiating an aura of cold violence that made my wolf instincts scream danger.
"What the fuck do you think you’re—"
The words died as a fist crashed into my face. Pain exploded across my nose, hot and immediate. I tasted copper as blood flooded my mouth, felt it dripping down my chin.
Before I could recover, they released my arms only to grab my tie, yanking it so tight I couldn’t breathe. Spots danced across my vision as my lungs burned for air. Just when I thought I’d pass out, they let go.
I crumpled to the ground, gasping. But they weren’t done.
What followed was methodical, brutal. Fists and boots rained down on me from all angles—ribs, stomach, back.
Each impact drove the air from my lungs, sent fresh waves of agony through my body. I tried to curl into a ball, tried to protect my vital organs, but there were too many of them.
Blood filled my mouth. I coughed it up, the metallic taste coating my tongue as my body screamed in protest.
Then, cutting through the haze of pain, a voice rang out. Cold. Commanding. Familiar.
"That’s enough."
My blood ran cold. I knew that voice—the same one that had answered Aria’s phone that night. The bastard she’d been sleeping with.
I clawed at the concrete, trying to push myself up. I needed to see his face, needed to know who this son of a bitch was who’d stolen my mate.
A boot slammed down on my back, pinning me to the ground like an insect.
"Listen carefully," the guard growled, his voice promising death. "Next time you think about harassing Mrs. Smith, make sure you’ve got someone ready to collect your corpse."
The weight lifted from my back. I heard footsteps retreating, then silence.
It took me several minutes to gather the strength to move. Every breath sent knives of pain through my ribcage.
When I finally managed to push myself to my knees, nausea overwhelmed me. I dry-heaved, then vomited—blood mixed with bile, splattering the pristine concrete.
Jesus Christ. What kind of man had Aria gotten involved with? What kind of security detail beat someone half to death in a residential garage?
Before I could catch my breath, another group descended—actual building security this time, their flashlights blinding me.
"Who the hell authorized you to enter this building and harass our residents?" one of them barked. "Get out now or we’re calling the police!"
"You motherfuckers—" I tried to snarl, but the movement sent fresh agony through my jaw. The words came out as a pathetic groan.
These were the same guards I’d bribed to let me in. Now they were acting like they’d never seen me before, ready to throw me out like garbage.
Minutes later, I somehow made it back to my car, collapsing into the driver’s seat. My hands were shaking too badly to grip the steering wheel. Every muscle in my body screamed.
My phone buzzed insistently. Clara. She’d been calling for the past hour, but I’d ignored every single one.
I fumbled for the phone, my fingers clumsy and numb. "Come get me," I managed to rasp out when I finally answered.
"Ethan? What’s wrong? You sound—"
"Just come. I’ll send you the location." I hung up before she could ask more questions.
Leaning my forehead against the steering wheel, I tried to process what had just happened.
The physical pain was excruciating—broken ribs, maybe internal bleeding—but it paled in comparison to the emotional devastation of Aria’s words.
*I’m married now. Really married this time.*
How could she move on so fast? How could she throw away our past—for some random man she’d just met?