The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 244

Aveline

Orion and I were in the middle of discussing severance arrangements for our remaining staff when something caught my eye through the living room window. Dark figures were moving up our driveway, their silhouettes barely visible in the dim evening light.

"Orion," I whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the window. We pressed ourselves against the wall, hearts pounding as we tried to process what we were seeing.

Through the gap in the curtains, I could make out a procession of people approaching our front door. They wore identical silver-gray trench coats that caught what little light filtered down from the security lamps, their synchronized footsteps creating an ominous rhythm on the gravel path. Everything about their movement suggested military precision and dangerous intent.

My hand instinctively reached for a heavy crystal table lamp, the only weapon-like object within reach. If this was Nikolai's advance team, at least I wouldn't go down without a fight.

But Orion started chuckling beside me, which made me want to hit him with the lamp instead.

"Are you insane?" I hissed. "This isn't the time to give up! Should we be climbing out the bedroom window right now?"

He pointed toward the approaching group, and as I followed his gesture, my mouth fell open in shock.

There, in the center of the formation, was Vivian. She wore the same style trench coat as the others, her posture confident and commanding as she strode toward our house. Beside her walked a man with striking flame-red hair, his movements precise and predatory. Even from this distance, there was something magnetic about his presence—dangerous, controlled, absolutely lethal.

"Did she actually do it?" I breathed, hardly daring to believe what I was seeing.

Orion's grin widened. "I told you—there's always that one person who can handle the impossible. Looks like your sister found herself the perfect match. Like something out of a werewolf novel—the alpha finally meeting his mate."

Despite the gravity of our situation, I couldn't help but laugh. "You did not just compare my sister to a supernatural romance heroine."

"If the leather coat fits..." he replied with a shrug.

I quickly called out to our remaining staff, instructing them to stay inside and away from the windows while Orion and I went to greet our unexpected cavalry.

We opened the front door to witness something I'd never imagined seeing in my quiet suburban neighborhood. Approximately fifty men and women in matching coats filed through our gates with military efficiency, spreading out across our property like a well-oiled machine. Each person moved with the kind of confidence that comes from extensive combat experience.

Finally, Vivian and the red-haired man approached us directly. Up close, he was even more striking than I'd initially thought—sharp cheekbones, intelligent green eyes, and an aura of controlled violence that was both terrifying and oddly reassuring.

"Vivian!" I exclaimed, reaching out to grasp her hands. "I can't believe you managed this so quickly. You look like you were born to lead a paramilitary operation."

She smiled, but there was something different about her expression—more confident, more settled than I'd seen her in months. "It wasn't really my doing. Dmitri was already inclined toward this choice. I just helped him recognize what he actually wanted."

I turned to the man beside her, gratitude flooding through me. "Dmitri, I can't thank you enough for—"

"Don't," he cut me off, his accent lending authority to the simple word. "I'm not here to help you. We simply happen to have the same enemy, which creates a temporary alignment of interests."

I blinked, not sure how to respond to such blunt honesty.

Vivian stepped in smoothly. "The details can wait. Starting immediately, Dmitri's people will be providing security for both of you."

Orion stepped forward, extending his hand for a shake. "I've heard about the Iron Wolves' reputation. Taking on this kind of assignment won't be something you regret. I'll make sure your people are compensated at the highest possible rates."

I expected to see some satisfaction from the assembled mercenaries, but instead, their expressions remained grimly professional. These weren't men motivated by money—they had the look of soldiers preparing for a suicide mission.

"I'll say it once more," Dmitri said with barely contained patience. "This is not a contract. This is not assistance. We have mutual enemies, and until those enemies are eliminated, cooperation serves our interests."

Orion scratched his head, clearly struggling with the unconventional nature of this arrangement, but before he could respond, Dmitri had already begun moving.

He walked the perimeter of our house with the systematic thoroughness of a professional security consultant, occasionally stopping to examine specific features. I found myself following behind him like a student trying to keep up with a professor's rapid-fire lecture.

"Your surveillance system is comprehensive but poorly positioned," he said without looking back at us. "Multiple blind spots here, here, and along the eastern approach. The infrared sensors are adequate for detecting casual intruders but insufficient for trained operatives."

He rapped his knuckles against one of our large picture windows, producing a hollow sound. "Standard glass. We'll need ballistic-rated replacements—Level III minimum, preferably Level IIIA. Cost will be approximately eight thousand per large panel, fifteen thousand for the curved bay windows."