Chapter One Hundred And Fifty Six
The roaring of the crowd inside the Manchester arena became a distant, muffled echo in my ears. The world had completely slowed down, shrinking until the only things that existed were my son, the towering man kneeling in front of him, and the pure, unadulterated terror freezing the blood in my veins.
I saw the exact second the final piece of the puzzle slammed into place inside Khalid Al-Mansour’s mind. His massive hands, which usually held a hockey stick with a brutal, unbreakable grip, were visibly trembling as he reached out to touch Chase’s small shoulders. His dark, piercing eyes were wide, swallowing the sight of our son’s face, tracing the identical jawline, the thick black hair, and the fierce, defiant eyes that belonged entirely to the Al-Mansou
