Marrying My Father's Enemy
Chapter 44: Callian’s Overprotectiveness

Chapter 44: Callian’s Overprotectiveness

Chapter 44: Callian’s Overprotectiveness

Eira stretched, blinking against the soft morning light as it filtered through the curtains.

Her muscles ached, and she let out a quiet groan, easing herself out of bed slowly.

She swung her legs over the edge and was about to stand when Callian’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back.

"Easy," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead. "Take it slow."

Eira smirked. "I’m fine. Just sore." She pushed him off and got to her feet, making her way to the bathroom. "I need to get ready. I’m going to be late."

Callian watched with sharp eyes. "My driver’s taking you."

Eira turned, raised an eyebrow. "I can manage."

Callian shook his head, crossing his arms. "You’re not walking alone. Not after what happened."

She rolled her eyes. "I don’t need a babysitter, Callian."

"It’s not up for discussion, Eira. And you’ll have private security from now on."

She gave an exasperated sigh, muttering,

"Overprotective much?" She shuffled back toward the bathroom, muttering to herself.

As she slipped into the bathroom to get ready, she called back, "Body hurts like I ran to the mountains."

Callian’s voice followed her, soft and warm. "You’re safe now."

She caught his reflection in the mirror as he leaned against the doorway; his look was gentle as he watched her brush her hair.

A slight smile lifted his lips as she rolled her eyes again.

After a few minutes, she glanced at him. "Will I see you at home? Evidence room?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes, I’ll be there. I have to review a few things first."

Eira hesitated, then glanced down at her hands. "By the way, I let Liam stay here," she admitted quietly.

"Not sure where he went, though."

Callian’s face tightened instantly; his jaw hardened. "You let that scum brother of yours stay here?"

Eira’s eyes narrowed. "He’s not scum. And he took care of me when I was hurt."

His jaw clenched, but he managed a sigh; tension melted as he reached out to touch her cheek.

"Fine. But you know how I feel about him."

She softened, brushing her fingers over his. "I know. Thank you."

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before heading toward the door. "I’ll see you soon."

Once he left, Callian’s expression hardened again. He had work to do, and today, it was personal.

~___~

In the car, his phone buzzed. He glanced down; it was his assistant.

"I’ve sent you all the information on Eira’s assault. Names, addresses. The works."

He opened the document, scanned the profiles.

Names, photos, locations. He recognized one name immediately; the man had a record a mile long.

The others were just as shady. A tight anger burned in his chest as he memorised every detail, every face.

He didn’t need long to track them down.

Within the hour, he had found them—two men, both seemed to be heading toward a lake at the outskirts of the city, fishing poles slung over their shoulders, laughing as they walked.

Callian returned home, dressed in all black, blending into the shadows as he followed them.

He moved quietly, trying to be unnoticed.

His mind shut out everything but the rage and the plan formed in his head.

The men stopped near the edge of the lake, oblivious to his presence as they set up to fish, chuckling and tossing jabs at each other.

Callian stayed in the shadows, watching, waiting.

"Do you remember that girl? Did Vanesa pay you already?"

"No, I haven’t gotten paid yet. What about you?"

"Same here, yet the press seemed to be killing her."

The two men were oblivious to Callian’s presence, cast their fishing lines, their laughter echoing across the still lake.

One of them—a stocky guy with a tattoo crawling up his neck—grinned as he leaned back, stretching lazily.

"Can’t believe we got away with it," he laughed, nudging his friend. "That girl put up a fight, but nothing we couldn’t handle."

Callian’s jaw tightened.

He took a slow step forward, letting his boots crunch on the gravel to announce himself.

Both men looked up, eyes narrowed as they squinted against the early light.

They glanced at each other, unbothered, assuming it was just some stranger.

"Hey," the taller man called out, annoyed. "This is a private spot. Get lost."

Callian didn’t say a word.

He moved closer, hiding everything but his cold, icy eyes.

His silence seemed to unnerve them, and they exchanged wary looks.

"Who the hell are you?" the stocky one demanded, puffing out his chest.

Callian tilted his head; a slight, taunting smile formed at the corners of his mouth. "Just someone with unfinished business," he replied softly.

The taller man, growing bolder, took a step forward, sneering. "Think you’re tough? Don’t know what you heard, but you better turn around before you regret it."

"I think I’ve heard enough," Callian said in a low voice.

Without another word, he moved, cutting through the space between them.

Before the man could react, Callian’s fist shot forward, cracking against his jaw with force that sent him stumbling back, clutching his face.

"Son of a—!" The stocky man lunged forward, swinging wildly, but Callian was ready.

He sidestepped the clumsy punch, catching the man’s arm mid-swing and twisting it sharply behind his back.

"Aaargh!" The man let out a grunt of pain, struggling to break free, but Callian’s grip was like iron.

"You’re the one who hurt her," Callian hissed, chillingly calm. "You thought you’d get away with it?"

The man snarled, still trying to wrestle free. "What’s it to you? Just some girl—"

Callian didn’t let him finish.

He slammed the man’s arm down with a crack, dropping him to his knees.

The taller man had recovered, reaching into his back pocket, but Callian was faster.

He delivered a sharp kick to the man’s side, sending him crashing against the tree behind him.

The tall one groaned, clutching his ribs. "Who the hell are you?" he spat with his eyes widened with fear. "Some kind of cop?"

"Hah!" Callian laughed. "Guess again."

He grabbed the taller man by the collar, lifting him to his feet before slamming him back against the tree trunk.

The man’s face twisted as he looked into Callian’s eyes, which were like snow.

"We’re sorry!" he stammered. "We didn’t mean—"

But Callian cut him off. "Sorry isn’t enough."

He let go, only to send his fist crashing into the man’s stomach.

The guy doubled over, coughing and wheezing, his body folded as he slumped down.

Callian turned back to the stocky one, who was still on his knees, cradling his broken arm.

"Please," he gasped. "We’ll leave her alone. We won’t touch her ever again—"

"You won’t even think of her again," Callian growled. He reached down, grabbing the man by his shirt and yanking him close until their faces were inches apart.

"Dead men don’t talk..."

*Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!*

Both were shot twice. "Disgusting pigs," he stated, then pushed them both down to the water.