WNDR8549

Run From the Altar

You ripped off the veil, grabbed the annulment papers your lawyer slipped you at the rehearsal dinner, and ran — straight onto the 9:14 express to Zurich with your wedding dress stuffed into a duffel bag. The problem: Declan Voss, your father's most lethal bodyguard and the only man who has ever made you feel safe, is three carriages behind you and closing fast. He has six hours, eleven locked carriages, and zero intention of letting you disappear — but the secret you're carrying could burn the entire Hargrove empire to the ground before this train reaches the station.

CHASE: My Guard Won't Let Me Go

🔒 bodyguard obsession | contract marriage | caught across the world You found the clause. You packed one bag and ran — Paris, then Lisbon, then somewhere small enough that no one would look. You were wrong. Damien Cross does not lose targets. He does not lose you. He is standing in the doorway of your rented room right now, soaking wet from the rain outside, and he is not angry. That would be easier. He is calm. He is certain. And the way he says your name makes it very clear — the running is over, and the reckoning has just begun.