After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

The white gas hissed from the vents like angry snakes, curling around the metal lockers and filling the small room with a sickly-sweet chemical fog.

Aria’s vision blurred. The air tasted of almonds and death.

Beside her, Damien was convulsing. The contact poison on the notebook cover was a neurotoxin—likely a variant of VX or Sarin, but tailored to trigger a massive histamine reaction. His skin was flushing a dark, angry purple, and his breath was coming in short, strangled gasps as his throat began to close.

”Damien!” Aria screamed, pressing her hands to his chest. ”Stay with me! Look at me!”

His golden eyes were rolling back, the pupils blown wide. He gripped her wrist with bruising force, his body fighting a war against itself.

”Leave...” he choked out, his voice a wet rattle. ”Vent... small enough... for you.”

He pointed a shaking finger at a small, rusted grate near the ceiling.

Aria looked at it. It was tiny. Maybe big enough for a child, or a very desperate woman. But it was ten feet up, and she would have to leave him behind.

”I’m not leaving you,” Aria snarled. ”Clause 9, remember? I have to be present for medical emergencies. And this qualifies.”

She ripped the hem of her shirt, tearing off a strip of fabric. She doused it in the water from a discarded bottle in the corner and tied it around her nose and mouth. It wasn’t a gas mask, but it would buy her a few minutes.

She turned back to Damien.

The poison was attacking his nervous system, causing his muscles to lock up. If she didn’t stabilize him in the next sixty seconds, his heart would stop.

She reached for her hair. She pulled out three of the ruby-encrusted gold pins Damien had given her. They weren’t as fine as her silver needles, but they were sharp, and gold conducted Qi better than steel.

”This is going to hurt,” she whispered, leaning over him.

She found the Neiguan point on his inner wrist—the gate to the heart. She drove the first pin in deep.

Damien’s body jerked. A gasp tore from his throat.

She moved to his neck, finding the Renying point near the carotid artery. This was dangerous. A millimeter off, and she could kill him. But she had no choice. She needed to force his airway open by stimulating the laryngeal muscles directly.

She pressed the second pin in.

Damien’s eyes snapped open. He inhaled a massive, ragged breath, his chest heaving as his throat relaxed just enough to let air in.

”Good,” Aria breathed, her own lungs burning from the gas. ”Keep breathing. Fight it, Damien. You’re the Demon King. Don’t let a little chemistry kill you.”

He looked at her. His vision was swimming, but he saw her face—fierce, terrified, and beautiful. She was fighting death for him.

”Kai!” Aria screamed at the door, banging on the steel with her fist. ”Blow the door! Do it now!”

”I can’t!” Kai’s muffled voice yelled back, sounding panicked. ”It’s reinforced steel! If I use explosives, I’ll bring the ceiling down on you!”

”Then use the car!” Aria shouted. ”Ram it! Use the Rolls!”

There was a pause. Then Kai’s voice, filled with manic glee. ”Sister-in-law, you are a genius.”

Outside, an engine roared to life. The distinct, deep growl of a V12 engine echoed through the wall like a beast waking up. The floor beneath them vibrated as tires squealed against asphalt, searching for traction.

”Cover your head!” Aria yelled, throwing herself over Damien’s body to shield him, burying her face in his shoulder.

CRASH.

Dust, concrete, and twisted metal sprayed across the room. The grill of the Rolls Royce Phantom—dented and smoking—smashed through the brickwork like a battering ram. The heavy steel door groaned and buckled, its frame shattered by the impact.

Fresh air—smelling of exhaust and wet pavement—rushed into the room, diluting the gas.

”Clear!” Kai shouted, leaping out of the driver’s seat with a gun in one hand and a handkerchief over his face. ”Go! Go! Go!”

Two of his men rushed in, grabbing Damien and hauling him up. Damien groaned, his legs useless, but he was alive.

”The book,” Damien rasped, pointing at the poisoned notebook on the floor. ”Get... the book.”

”Forget the book!” Aria yelled, grabbing his arm. ”It’s toxic! Leave it!”

”Evidence,” he slurred.

”We have the recording!” Aria pulled him toward the hole in the wall. ”Move!”

They stumbled out into the alleyway, lungs burning. The rain was pouring down now, a torrential downpour that hissed as it hit the hot engine of the ruined car, washing the gas from the air. Damien collapsed onto the wet asphalt, coughing violently as the cold water soaked through his clothes.

Aria dropped beside him, checking his pulse. It was erratic, drumming against her fingertips like a trapped bird, but strong.

”He needs a hospital,” she told Kai. ”Full detox protocol. But not St. Mary’s. Lydia has spies there.”

”I’ll take him to Elias,” Kai said, holstering his gun. ”His private clinic is secure.”

He looked at the wrecked Rolls Royce embedded in the wall of the gambling den.

”Well,” Kai sighed. ”That was a $500,000 battering ram. Ken is going to kill me.”

Damien let out a weak, wheezing laugh. He reached out, his hand trembling, and grabbed Aria’s wrist.

”You...” he whispered, looking up at her with eyes that were clearing. ”You stayed.”

”Clause 9,” Aria repeated, her voice thick with emotion. She brushed wet hair from his forehead. ”I don’t breach contracts.”

Damien closed his eyes, his grip on her wrist tightening as if she were the only anchor in a storm.

”My wife,” he murmured. ”My... crazy... wife.”

Then he passed out.

Aria looked at Kai.

”Get him in the backup car,” she ordered, her voice cold steel. ”And Kai?”

”Yeah?”

”Find out who sold Lydia the poison. I want a name. And I want an address.”

Kai looked at the fire in her eyes. He nodded, a sharp, appreciative grin cutting through the rain.

”Consider it done, Sister-in-law.”