Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 408

The salty wind whipped through the air, and somewhere a band played wild, triumphant music.

A chaotic crowd buzzed around the orange sports car, where a woman in a white dress and veil clung to the neck of a man in sunglasses. Mila's heart was still pounding from the adrenaline when his low, teasing voice brushed her ear. For a moment, everything else fell away into silence.

Then fury snapped her back to reality.

Of all times, he chose now to flirt?

Anger and fear warred inside her. Without thinking, Mila tightened her grip around the man's neck, pulled herself up, and slammed her forehead into his.

Bastard!

Lysander didn't even flinch. He leaned into her headbutt, laughter rumbling in his chest.

"My dear wife."

"Oh, come on! Could you save the heroics for later and just drive?" A tense male voice burst from the driver's seat.

Mila looked up and finally noticed the red-haired man at the wheel, spinning the car as he grinned back at her.

"Hey, gorgeous, I'm Francis-"

Smack!

Lysander reached over and whacked Francis on the back of the head. "Drive. We need to get off this island. Now."

"You'd drop dead for a pretty face, you hopeless dog!" Francis shot back, but he knew time was running out. This was Cossio's territory; if they lingered, they'd be in real trouble. Without another word, he grabbed the megaphone and shouted out the window:

"Everyone, let's move!"

the convoy of luxury cars, and the drummers perched atop the vehicles hammered out a thunderous rhythm. The car formation curved,

a vroom, the

found herself pressed into Lysander's arms, the wind lashing her hair as she

it all in

the smoke-wreathed church, on a carpet of black roses, Cossio stood out-rigid, his green

as if something cold and ancient had reached inside her, freezing

a warm hand slid around her waist, shielding her, and Lysander's

"Don't look at him."

her lips together and

across the crowd-his fox-sharp eyes meeting the other

After a long beat,

eyes darkened, and his blood-red lips curled in a faint, taunting smile. Then, mouthing the words

"You lost again, boy."

Lysander's eyes narrowed.

he could reply, a thunderous crash sounded behind them. A black motorcycle smashed through the convoy, tearing open a gap, and several bikes roared through, engines howling

"Francis!" Lysander barked.

"On it, on it!"

aside, clearing a path, but the bikes were faster-agile, relentless. One rider on the back

orders were clear: take

CRASH!

beside Mila. Lysander, still holding her with

like a

had seen so many sides of this man-calm, refined, angry, confident, always in control. But never like this: brutal, overpowering, a force of nature that made the air