The Billionaire's Dangerous Obsession (Nivera) novel Chapter 218

Alejandro didn’t stop to think.

The moment the man disappeared around the corner, instinct kicked in–sharp and unhesitant. He sprinted after him, boots pounding hard against the gravel, the wind slicing past his cars.

The alley behind the motel was dim and narrow, boxed in by rusted dumpsters and the faint stench of oil. The only light came from a flickering bulb overhead.

He caught sight of movement ahead

–

the goon’s shoulder brushing the corner as he tried to cut through a

side path. Alejandro pushed harder. The man was fast, but Alejandro’s steps were relentless, precise, his breathing steady as if his body had been built for this kind of pursuit.

“Stop!” Alejandro’s voice cracked through the night – cold, commanding.

The man didn’t.

Alejandro’s jaw tightened. Fine.

He lunged forward, closing the gap in a few swift strides before tackling him to the ground. They hit the pavement hard- the goon’s head smacking against the dirt with a muffled grunt. Alejandro twisted his arm behind his back before he could even struggle.

“Why were you after her?” Alejandro asked, his tone dangerously quiet. No raised voice, no theatrics – just that low, measured calm that chilled more than any shout ever could.

The man coughed, trying to find his breath. “I–I wasn’t–she-”

Alejandro’s hand moved to his throat, pressing him harder against the ground. The man’s protest cut off instantly, replaced by a strangled sound.

“You had ten seconds to think of a lie,” Alejandro said, eyes narrowing. “And that was eight too many. Try again.”

The man’s eyes darted left and right, searching for escape. None existed. Alejandro’s stare pinned him in place like a cornered rat.

“I was just–just doing my job,” the man rasped finally.

Alejandro tilted his head slightly. “Your job involves chasing women out of motels?”

“No! No, I–she–she was asking about someone! I was told to stop her if she-”

“Told by who?”

“I don’t know!”

Alejandro smiled – a slow, humorless stretch of his mouth that didn’t reach his eyes. “You just said you were told. That means you know someone told you.”

The man swallowed hard, his pulse visibly hammering at his neck. “I don’t know names! They–they just told me to keep an eye on her. On the woman with the wig. Said no one was supposed to be with her.”

Zabelle.

She was the target, not Nivera, which meant the bastard he was looking at wasn’t connected to the series of attacks that had happened on her.

“I swear! They just told me to watch the room!”

Alejandro went still for a second, then leaned closer, his breath brushing the man’s car. “Who’s ‘they‘?”

“I don’t know names,” the man gasped. “I was told she wasn’t supposed to leave- that’s all. I was only supposed to make sure-”

Alejandro yanked him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The man’s head hit the brick, and he cried out.

“Make sure what?” Alejandro demanded, eyes like flint.

The man trembled, blood running down from a small cut on his temple. “Make sure no one interferes.”

Alejandro’s stare didn’t waver. “So what exactly were you planning on doing to the woman you were chasing?”

“I panicked! I didn’t mean- I wasn’t going to hurt her, I just—”

–

Alejandro’s silence was worse than shouting. He studied the man for several seconds, eyes unreadable cold calculation behind the stillness. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a black zip tie, binding the man’s wrists behind him with practiced ease.

It was crazy but he always carried such tools on him just like the way a gun was tucked into his pants.

—

Alejandro stepped back for a fraction of a second – just long enough to let the goon think he had a chance — before driving his fist into the man’s stomach with brutal precision. Not enough to kill. Just enough to make him fold.

The man crumpled, gasping, the sound ugly in the narrow alley.

“Get up,” he said curtly.

The man hesitated, his voice trembling. “What are you-

“”

Alejandro dragged him up by the back of his shirt and shoved him forward. “Move. Try anything funny and I’ll lodge my bullet into your fucking skull.”

The goon stumbled as Alejandro forced him back toward the front of the motel. The atmosphere had grown quieter now – no cars passing, only the faint hum of distant crickets and the rustle of wind through the trees. The neon sign flickered red as they emerged from the alley.

—

Nivera was still there. She hadn’t moved from where he’d left her standing by the car, coat slipping slightly off one shoulder, her hair a mess around her face.

Her eyes widened at the sight.

Alejandro was dragging the man by his collar, one hand gripping the back of his neck as though he weighed nothing. The goon’s face was bloodied, his lip split, one eye already swelling shut.

The sight made Nivera freeze. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

Alejandro’s expression was blank

– too blank. The kind of calm that only came after violence. There was no

visible anger, no wildness – just cold focus and purpose.

He pushed the man forward who stumbled and fell to his knees near the headlights, breathing hard.

Nivera stepped forward. “You caught him,” she said, almost in disbelief.

Her breath came unevenly, relief flooding through her when she saw him completely unharmed. For a brief second, that was all that mattered.

But then her heart lurched as she remembered something.

Zabelle.

She spun on her heel without a word, bolting back toward the motel. Her heels clattered against the cracked pavement as she rushed to the room she had run out of earlier.

Alejandro followed close behind, one hand gripping the collar of the captured goon, dragging him like a sack of weightless cargo. The man stumbled, tripping over himself, but Alejandro didn’t slow down. His expression was unreadable–ice–cold, focused.

Nivera threw open the door, and the first thing she saw was chaos.

Furniture upturned. The small nightstand had been knocked over, one of the lamps shattered on the floor, the faint smell of cheap disinfectant mixing with blood. The curtains fluttered lightly from the cracked window, letting in a slice of neon light that painted the carpet red.

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