Rachel POV

I didn't sleep

How could I?

Locked in this room, guards posted outside my door, my phone taken... every choice had been ripped from my hands.

By sunrise, I sat curled beside the window, staring at the horizon as tears slid silently down my cheeks. I kept wiping them away, as if hiding them would lessen the ache.

I had truly sold myself to the Devil.

And now I was trapped.

A soft knock broke through my thoughts.

"...Mama?"

I turned.

Leo peeked from the doorway, dressed in his blue pyjamas, a shy smile on his face. He slipped inside, his tiny hands twisting nervously.

His eyes lifted to mine, wide and worried.

"Did Papa make you sad?"

The question cut straight through me. I walked toward him and knelt, pulling him into my arms.

"No, sweetheart," I whispered, a lie that my tears betrayed.

He hugged me tighter, as if afraid letting go would make me disappear.

After a moment, he tugged on my sleeve.

"Do you want to go to the garden with me? Just me and you. Please?"

I froze.

Damien's rule echoed in my mind: "You won't leave this room unless Leo asks for you personally."

If Leo took me out... the guards would obey.

I could get past them

I could run.

Maybe call my brother. Have him buy us tickets to another continent. Anywhere far from Damien.

My breath caught.

This was my chance.

"Alright," I whispered.

Leo clapped, smiling brightly as he grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door.

The guards straightened immediately, then relaxed when they saw Leo leading me.

We walked down the hall, and my heart hammered with every step.

Ahead, several staff members were busy carrying trays and folders toward the east wing.

At the corner, a maid passed with a basket of folded laundry.

"Miss Anita," I said softly. "Could you take Leo to get some juice? He's hungry."

She bowed slightly. "Yes, Mrs. Montrel."

Leo blinked up at me, confused. "But we're going to the gar-"

"It's okay, baby," I cut in gently. "I'll be right behind you. I just need to grab something."

Leo hesitated but obeyed, taking Anita's hand as she led him away.

The second they turned the corner, my chest squeezed painfully.

This was it.

I turned and walked as fast as I could-not running, not yet-down the hallway.

I slipped past the west wing, through the general sitting area, trying to look natural.

My pulse thundered as I spotted more men by the front door.

One of them narrowed his eyes at me. "Mrs. Montrel, you're out of your room? Where is Leo?" he asked, his voice polite but his eyes suspicious.

My voice remained soft and steady. "Leo is in the kitchen. He forgot his toys in the courtyard. I'm just going to fetch them."

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "My apologies, ma'am. You may go."

I forced a tense smile and walked past him through the door before my legs gave out.

I reached the back of the manor and slipped through the servants' path into the backyard. 

A stone wall loomed ahead-high, cold, and covered in thick, green vines.

I stared up at it, my breath shaking.

This is it. Do it now or die here.

I grabbed the vines. They held.

Good enough.

Hand over hand, foot over foot, I climbed. My palms burned, and my arms shook under my weight. The vines dug into my skin, scraping it raw and red.

By some miracle, I reached the top.

I swung my leg over and dropped.

The impact shot pain up my back, knocking the breath from my chest.

But I didn't care.

I scrambled to my feet. The open world lay before me.

"I did it," I whispered. "I'm free."

Then I heard shouting.

Voices. Men calling out from the manor. Footsteps rushing toward the outer gate.

They heard my fall.

Shit.

Panic jolted through me. I bolted into the trees, feet pounding the earth, branches slapping against my face and arms.

I ran.

And ran.

Never once turning back.

Leo POV

Leo hummed as he sat on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs while sipping apple juice. The workers moved around him, cooking breakfast and laughing softly.

He kept glancing at the doorway.

Waiting.

Mama should have been here by now.

He frowned, sliding off the counter with a soft thud.

"Where is she...?" he whispered.

He walked out of the kitchen, his little slippers tapping quickly against the marble floor.

"Mama?" he called, peeking around the corner.

No answer.

He checked the sitting room next.

Empty.

"Mama...?" His voice grew smaller.

He ran down the hallway, checking room after room.

The staircase.

The guest rooms.

The hallway outside her bedroom door.

Still nothing.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffing.

"Maybe she's hiding..." he whispered, though his voice cracked.

He ran toward the courtyard, hope rising for a second.

But the courtyard was quiet.

Wind moved the leaves.

That was all.

Leo's throat tightened as he hugged himself.

"Mama... did I do something?" His voice shook. "Are you mad at me...?"

He took one slow step forward and stopped when he heard rushed footsteps behind him.

Several guards hurried toward the courtyard, their faces tense. They paused when they saw Leo.

"Young Master?" one of them asked, confused.

Leo looked up at them with wet eyes.

"She... left," he said quietly. "Mama left."

The men's expressions changed instantly-shock, concern, fear.

Leo wiped his tears fast, embarrassed, shaking his head as more tears fell.

"She said she would be with me soon... but she's gone... I can't find her."

Another set of fast footsteps echoed from behind.

Mr. Vance appeared, breathing a little harder than usual, clearly warned about the noise near the back wall.

He stopped when he saw Leo's red eyes and trembling hands.

"Young Master...?" Vance crouched down. "What happened?"

Leo shook his head, voice breaking. "Mama didn't come back."

"I think she... she left us..."

Mr. Vance's face fell into deep, troubled silence.

Behind him, two men exchanged grim looks.

Everyone already knew what it meant:

Rachel had escaped.

And Damien was not going to take this well.

Damien POV

I was in my office reviewing reports when heavy footsteps rushed down the hallway.

Too fast.

Too loud.

Someone was panicking.

Before I could move, my door burst open.

Walker stood there, breath uneven.

"Sir-"

He hesitated.

Never a good sign.

I lifted my head slowly, coldly. "Where," I said, my voice low, "is my son?"

Walker swallowed. "He's safe. He's with Mr. Vance, but-" 

"But what?"

A smaller pair of footsteps suddenly echoed behind him.

Leo.

He ran into the office, tears streaming down his cheeks.

I stood immediately. "Leo?" My voice softened for a second. "What happened?"

Leo threw himself into me, gripping my shirt with shaking hands. "Mama's gone!" he sobbed.

Everything inside me went still.

"...What?"

He cried harder, burying his face in my chest. "She left... she left without me. I looked everywhere. She's gone..."

My jaw tightened, a storm rising behind my eyes.

I crouched and held his face gently. "Leo, look at me," I said firmly. "Who told you she left?"

Leo sniffed. "I saw... she wasn't in the garden... she wasn't in her room... and the guards outside said they heard something by the back wall."

Walker stepped forward carefully. "There were signs of climbing, sir. Vines pulled down. Footprints outside the property line."

My eyes darkened. Anger burned low in my chest at her audacity-to leave and make my son cry after everything.

Vance arrived next, looking tired, concerned, and disappointed. "The girl escaped, sir," he confirmed.

Leo cried harder, shaking. "Papa... why would she leave me? Did I do something wrong?"

The question hit me like a blow.

"No," I said immediately, pulling him closer. "You did nothing wrong."

Leo kept crying into my shirt, his small shoulders trembling.

After a moment, I lifted my gaze to Vance. My voice turned to ice. "Why didn't anyone stop her?"

Vance met my stare, calm but firm. "We didn't notice, sir. We didn't think she would try escaping so soon."

My nostrils flared. "That girl had one job-"

"-to be a mother to Leo," Vance cut in, frowning. "Not a prisoner."

My eyes flickered-anger, then something else.

Vance continued quietly, "If you trap a young woman, you cannot expect her to stay. Or to be happy. Or to be good for the boy."

Leo's sobs softened, but he clung to me tighter.

"And," Vance added, his voice lower, "you forget your mother was once a young woman too. You know what isolation can do to someone."

Silence.

I froze completely.

The mention of my mother didn't anger me. It shut something down. Made me think.

Only for a second.

Then the coldness returned.

I stood, lifting Leo into my arms. "Vance," I said sharply, "assemble the cars."

He nodded.

"We're bringing her back," I growled. "Alive. Unhurt. No one touches her."

Walker stepped forward. "Yes, sir."

I turned my gaze to Vance, my voice cold and cutting. "Vance... when we bring her back, she won't be leaving her room again without my permission. This time, no mistakes."

Leo's head snapped up. "Papa, no!" he cried. "She'll be scared!"

That hit harder than it should have.

My jaw flexed before I forced myself to answer. "...Fine," I muttered. "We'll... talk to her first."

Leo's small shoulders loosened, and he rested his forehead against my collarbone.

I placed a hand on his back, once, steady.

Then the softness vanished.

My expression hardened again, shadows returning. "Move," I ordered.

The men scattered instantly, their footsteps disappearing down the hall as they prepared to launch the search. 

Vance sighed, tired and troubled, but followed them, already giving quiet orders.

I held Leo tightly as we walked out of the office.

"Papa?" he whispered, voice weak and breaking. "You... you'll bring Mama home, right?"

My voice dropped low, gentle only for him. "Yes," I said. "I'll bring her home."

Leo exhaled in relief, clinging to me.

But as soon as he lowered his head again, the warmth in my voice died.

And the darkness returned to my eyes.

Rachel POV

I didn't know how long I had been running.

Hours, maybe.

My feet throbbed. My lungs burned. The sun had already slipped from afternoon gold into the soft grey of evening by the time I burst out of the forest and stumbled onto a cracked highway road.

When I looked up, I saw it:

Lights.

Cars.

People.

A city.

My knees almost buckled.

I hugged myself and forced my tired body forward. My clothes were dirty from climbing the wall, my hair tangled, and my palms still stung from where the vines had cut me.

But I was free.

For the first time in weeks, I could choose where I went.

I wiped my cheeks and stepped into the noise of the street. Neon signs buzzed above me. Cars honked. Strangers brushed past without a second glance.

It felt unreal.

Almost like a dream.

I just need a phone, I told myself.

I just need to call Dad. Or Marcus. Anyone. Then I can leave this country and disappear.

I kept walking, head lowered, trying to blend into the crowd.

Everything felt so unfamiliar, so loud, so overwhelming.

Then I heard it.

A low whistle.

"Damn," a voice drawled. "Look what we have here."

My heart jumped. I looked up.

A group of men leaned against motorcycles outside a shop, their eyes locked on me. Rough-looking, older than me, and clearly amused.

One of them pushed off his bike and approached.

"Got anything for us?" he asked, tone mocking.

I froze. "I... I don't have anything. Sorry."

He scoffed, stepping closer. He looked like their leader-better dressed, sharper eyes.

"No one walks into this part of town alone, princess," he said, breath reeking of smoke. "Why don't you tell us what you're doing here?"

"I... I'm just passing through. I don't want trouble," I whispered.

But his eyes suddenly dropped.

Not to my face.

To the necklace.

The red jewel Damien forced on me.

"Is that...?" another man said, stepping closer, eyes widening.

"Montrel's mark?"

Panic exploded inside my chest.

I grabbed the necklace instinctively, taking a step back.

The leader's eyes sharpened. "A girl like you wearing the Montrel emblem? That doesn't happen by accident."

The men behind him laughed.

"I bet she's some kind of toy for the empire," one said, grinning.

"Didn't know the mafia kept their jewellery this pretty," another added.

Heat rose to my cheeks; shame, fear, anger all at once.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered, voice shaking. "I don't- I'm not-"

"Don't lie," the leader snapped, suddenly serious. "No one wears that symbol unless they're tied to the Montrels."

He stepped even closer, and I flinched.

"She's important," one of the men muttered darkly. "Boss is gonna want to see her."

The leader's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Before I could react, his hand shot out and closed around my wrist.

"Wait-!" I yelped, stumbling as he yanked me forward.

"Quiet," he snapped.

Another man grabbed my other arm, fingers digging painfully into my skin.

My breath hitched. Panic shot through my chest.

"Please let go! I didn't do anything!"

They ignored me completely.

The leader shoved me toward the alley beside the shop, his grip tightening like a cuff around my wrist.

"She's shaking," one of the men laughed. "Scared little thing."

"She should be," the leader muttered. "Montrel's mark is worth a lot. And the boss will want answers. Pain makes people talk."

My blood ran cold.

"No- no, please," I cried, trying to pull back. "I swear, I don't know anything! I'm not- I'm not who you think-"

"Save it."

They forced me deeper into the alley until my back hit the cold brick wall. The noise of the street faded. My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else.

The leader leaned close, breath hot and bitter.

"You ran from Montrel, didn't you? Why else would you be out here alone?"

I shook my head desperately. "Please don't hurt me. Please- I just want to go home."

The youngest man stepped forward, reaching for my necklace.

"Take it off her. Boss will want proof."

"No!" I jerked sideways along the wall, panic exploding. "Don't touch me!"

He scoffed. "Shut her up."

A rough hand slapped over my mouth from the side, pinning my cheek to the wall.

I screamed into his palm; muffled, terrified, kicking, twisting, fighting with everything I had.

But they were stronger.

"Stop struggling," the leader grunted. "We're not going to kill you. Not if you're smart. But you make this difficult-your face won't stay so pretty."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as another man grabbed both my wrists, lifting them above my head and pinning them to the wall.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't think.

Damien POV

A gunshot cracked through the alley.

One of the men near Rachel dropped instantly, hitting the ground hard.

Everything froze.

The remaining men spun around-and saw me.

Black coat. Gloves. Rage burning in my eyes.

Vance and five men behind me, guns raised.

Their faces drained of colour.

Rachel pressed herself against the wall, shaking, makeup streaked from tears, a smear of dust across her cheek. She looked terrified-small.

My jaw tightened.

"Take them," I said coldly.

Gunfire exploded. Screams. Footsteps scrambling in panic.

I walked forward through the storm, watching each man fall one by one.

Until only one remained.

He grabbed Rachel by the neck, hauling her up against his chest. A knife glinted against her neck desperate.

"Step closer and I'll kill her!" he shouted, voice cracking.

Rachel's eyes widened, her breath wheezing in panic. She clawed at his arm helplessly.

I stopped.

Not because I feared him.

But because I saw the terror in her eyes.

Her fear of dying.

Her fear of him.

Her fear... of me.

The man trembled but held her tight.

"Don't move-don't you fucking move!"

A slow laugh slipped from my chest.

Cold. Deadly. Wrong.

The man stiffened. "S-stop laughing."

My smile widened.

"You think you can bargain with me... using her?"

"Stop-STOP LAUGHING!"

BANG.

His skull snapped sideways as a sniper round tore through it from above.

Rachel screamed as blood sprayed across her face and neck-hot, thick, horrifying.

I stepped forward to take her.

But, she recoiled like I was the danger.

"D-don't touch me!" she cried. "Please-don't hurt me-I'm sorry-"

I froze.

Like someone had slammed a fist into my chest.

Hurt her?

I would never lay my hand on a woman; an action I will never take from my late bastard father.

For a moment, I felt...

Something broke inside me.

Ashamed that I made her feel that way.

Slowly and carefully. I removed my glove, letting it fall to the blood-stained ground.

My voice softened, low and steady.

"Rachel... look at me."

She shook her head violently, sliding down the wall, crying harder.

I crouched slowly, keeping distance, palms open.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I whispered.

Her lip trembled. "Please... please don't..."

My jaw tightened, not in anger at her but at myself.

I reached into my coat and pulled out a white handkerchief.

Gently, not touching her skin.

I lifted her chin with only my fingertips and wiped the blood from her face. Soft. Careful. Slow.

She flinched, but didn't pull away.

"You're safe now," I murmured. "No one will touch you again."

My thumb brushed a final streak of blood from her cheek.

"Please... come with me."

Her breath hitched, her eyes glassy with shock and fear.

But she didn't resist when I slid my coat around her shoulders and lifted her into my arms.

I held her tightly.

Protectively.

And she reluctantly relaxed on my chest, still shaking in adrenaline.

The rage was still there-but now it was focused entirely on anyone who would dare threaten her again.

"Let's go home," I whispered.

And I carried her out of the alley.

Rachel POV

Warmth.

Soft sheets.

A faint, familiar cologne.

My mind drifted in a hazy fog, caught between sleep and memory. My body felt heavy, limbs foreign. I breathed in shakily, my eyes fluttering open.

Dim light from a bedside lamp painted soft shadows on the walls.

This wasn't my room.

My chest tightened.

Where was I?

Then, it all slammed back into me.

The alley.

Rough hands grabbing me.

The necklace being ripped-

Hot blood on my face-

A gunshot-

Damien's icy voice-

The man falling-

My own scream-

I jerked upright with a sharp gasp.

A shadow moved in the corner.

My breath hitched. Panic exploded behind my ribs.

Damien.

He sat in a chair near the bed, his coat draped over the back, shirtsleeves rolled up. He looked exhausted, his expression unreadable-but the anger wasn't for me.

Just the sight of him made my hands shake.

I tried to sit up taller, but my arms were too weak.

"Don't-" He started to rise, hands lifting to steady me, but dropped them the instant I flinched away.

He froze.

A flash of hurt crossed his eyes-quick and silent, and so unlike him.

"I... I'm sorry," I whispered, the apology tumbling out on instinct. My voice broke.

Damien's jaw tightened. "Rachel," he said, his voice low. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

I hugged myself, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to disappear. Tears welled up, blurring the room.

"H-how did I get here?"

"You fainted. You were in shock." His tone was softer now. His eyes dropped to my trembling hands. "I carried you back."

Shock.

Yes. That sounded right.

Everything felt distant.

Numb.

Too quiet.

"Rachel," Damien said, his voice low and steady, like he was choosing every word with care. "You are safe now."

Safe.

The word shattered something inside me.

A sob tore from my chest. I covered my mouth, shoulders shaking, tears spilling fast and hot.

Damien's eyes darkened-not with anger, but with something heavier. He stepped closer, slowly, like approaching a frightened animal.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly.

"I just... I just wanted to go home..." I cried harder.

His breath stilled. But he didn't move away.

Instead, he lowered himself onto one knee beside the bed. Close, but not touching me.

"Rachel," he murmured, "look at me."

I shook my head, covering my face, humiliated by my broken sounds.

He reached out-not to touch me-just resting his hand on the edge of the mattress. A quiet anchor.

"Look at me."

Slowly, I forced myself to raise my head.

His eyes were fixed on me. Calm. Steady. No anger. No mockery. Just intense focus.

"You're safe," he said again. "No one will ever touch you again."

Something in his voice-that low, certain tone-made my chest ache.

But the images in my head wouldn't stop. The hands. The wall. The blood.

My breath quickened.

Damien noticed immediately. "You're trembling," he said, his brow furrowing. "Should I call the doctor?"

"No," I whispered, clutching the blanket tighter. "I... I just need a minute."

He nodded once, slowly. As if every movement had to be careful around me.

Silence stretched between us.

Then-

"Rachel," he said quietly, "I need to ask you something."

My stomach twisted. "O-okay..."

His eyes sharpened, but his voice stayed gentle. "Did they hurt you?"

I froze. Not from the question, but from the fear behind it.

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

He waited. Patient. Unmoving.

I finally shook my head. "No. They didn't. They just... grabbed me. They tried to take the necklace."

Damien's jaw locked.

"They didn't... do anything else," I hurried to add, scared of his anger.

He exhaled slowly, a breath he seemed to have held for hours. A flicker of relief, then a darker, sharper anger.

"I'm angry at them," he clarified, seeing me flinch. "Not at you."

I looked down. He was still kneeling there, keeping his distance, speaking gently.

And somehow, that made me cry all over again.

"I-I thought..." My throat tightened. "I thought you would be angry at me."

Damien's eyes snapped to mine. "At you? For what?"

"For... running."

His expression softened. Not warmly, but as if something inside him had cracked.

"I was angry that you ran," he admitted quietly. "But I'm more angry that someone else found you first." He lowered his gaze. "I should've protected you better."

The words lodged in my chest. No one had ever said anything like that to me.

"Damien..." I whispered.

He stood slowly. "I'll give you some space. Vance needs to speak with me."

He took one step back-

I flinched. Not from him, but from the sudden emptiness of the room.

Damien stopped immediately. "Rachel...?" he asked gently.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, shaking my head. "I just... I don't want to be alone right now."

Something softened in his face. The sharp lines eased.

"You won't be alone," he said. "Not tonight."

The door opened with a soft click.

Vance stepped inside, pausing when he saw me. His expression shifted from relief to seriousness.

"Sir," he said to Damien. "The alley is clear. The bodies are moved. No civilians were involved."

Damien nodded once. "Good." His voice was cold again-the way it was with others. A stark contrast to how he spoke to me.

Vance glanced at me. "The men who grabbed her weren't acting alone."

Damien's eyes darkened. "Find their boss. Tonight." He paused, his gaze sliding back to me, the rage softening. "Warn him. No bloodshed unless he forces it. Make it clear that touching a Montrel emblem is a death sentence."

Vance bowed his head. "Understood."

He left, closing the door quietly.

The room fell silent again.

Damien looked back at me, the coldness gone, replaced by that careful gentleness. "Rachel, try to rest."

I swallowed. "Will you... Stay?"

His breath hitched. Then he nodded.

"Yes. I'm not going anywhere."

He took the chair again-closer this time, but still giving me space.

His presence should have scared me.

Instead, it kept the nightmares away.