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.

Damien POV

Rachel finally stopped trembling only when exhaustion claimed her.

Her fingers, which had clutched the blanket for dear life, loosened. Her breathing softened. Her eyes closed.

Only then-only when I was certain she was deep under-did I allow myself to move.

I stood from the chair carefully, ensuring not a single sound would wake her. For a long moment, I stayed there in the dim glow of the lamp, watching her sleep.

The blood on her cheek...

The shaking...

The raw fear in her eyes...

It replayed in my mind like a curse.

I turned away before the rage could fully resurface and slipped out of her room, closing the door without a sound.

The mansion was silent. Leo was long asleep. Even the guards spoke in hushed tones, sensing the night's heavy weight.

I headed for the East Wing.

The heavily guarded gate opened for me without a word.

The deeper I walked, the colder the air became-both physically and in memory. Iron doors lined the corridor, the faint groans and low hum of machinery seeping through the cracks. Sounds of training and shooting echoed from behind them.

This place existed for one purpose.

And tonight, it was busy.

Mr. Vance waited by the heavy steel door to my private hall, his posture straight despite his age.

"Sir," he murmured. "I did not expect you until morning."

"Rachel finally slept," I said simply.

He nodded in quiet understanding and followed me inside.

The crackling fireplace cast an eerie warmth across the room. I slipped off my gloves and tossed them aside.

"Report," I said.

Vance cleared his throat. "About tonight... the alley." He paused, choosing his words with care. "Was it necessary to leave the symbol?"

I shrugged, loosening the tension in my shoulders. "Tradition. The city remembers who I am when they see it."

Vance exhaled, long and weary. "These displays are unwise, Damien. The authorities are already watching us."

My expression sharpened. "Did something happen?"

Before he could answer, a sharp knock sounded. Laurence entered, his posture tight, face pale.

"Boss, forgive the intrusion," he said. "But we have a situation."

"Speak."

"One of our warehouses was raided tonight."

I stilled.

"Impossible," I said coldly. "The police had no-"

"They arrived before our men," Laurence interrupted, his voice strained. "Some of our people were taken."

A long, heavy silence filled the room.

I stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "How many men knew about that shipment?"

Laurence hesitated. "...Thirty-two."

That number told me everything. Too many. Now my weapons, my goods, and my men were gone.

"Get out," I said.

He blinked. "Sir?"

"Everyone. Out." My gaze swept the room. "Except Vance."

Laurence bowed hastily and left. The door slammed shut, sealing us in.

Vance folded his hands calmly. "You believe there's a leak."

"There *is* a leak," I growled. "Someone in my circle is feeding information to the police."

"It's possible," Vance agreed. "Your influence has grown. With it comes envy."

Someone wanted me weakened.

Distracted.

Preferably dead.

"We'll cut the suspect list," Vance suggested. "Feed false routes. Watch who takes the bait."

I stared into the fire, the pieces clicking into place in my mind. A false route. A narrowed list. It was the only move.

"Do it," I said, my voice low. "And keep it quiet."

He gave a single, sharp nod. He understood. We stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the crackle of the fire.

Then, Vance's tone shifted, gentler. "And... the girl?"

My jaw clenched. "She's shaken. More than I expected."

"She's not from this world," Vance said softly. "Violence... secrecy... this isn't her life."

"She ran." The bitterness surprised me. "And look what happened."

"She ran because you left her with nothing else," Vance countered, his voice firm but not unkind. "Locking her inside will only make her desperate. And desperation is dangerous-for her, for Leo, for you."

I didn't respond.

He pressed gently. "Let her go back to school. Let her have something normal."

"It's not safe."

"It's safer than isolation," he said. "And she won't be alone. Quiet shadows. Five at most."

I exhaled, jaw tightening. "...Fine."

It tasted like surrender.

Vance nodded. "We'll prepare a driver and discreet security."

The old man paused, then added with a faint smile,

"And maybe some new clothes. Books. Girls her age like these things."

I sighed, annoyed by the unnecessary sentiment. "I'll just give her an unlimited credit card in my name. Is that better, old man?"

"Perfect, sir. Now you're acting like a proper husband," Mr. Vance said, a faint joke in his tone.

"Leave."

He bowed and exited, the heavy door closing behind him.

Alone, I stared into the fire, Rachel's terrified face burning in my mind.

Letting her out was a risk. But Vance was right. She was an unassuming girl; no authority searching for me would look her way at a community college. Isolation wasn't the answer. It only bred the very recklessness I feared.

My hand drifted to the small tin on the stool-a habit I'd buried years ago, one I only ever reached for when the night felt too heavy.

I flipped it open, took out a cigarette, and lit it.

The first inhale burned, but it steadied me just enough.

The smoke did little to ease the frustration of the police intercepting another operation.

Blowing out the smoke, my gaze softened as it landed on a small picture frame tucked between old books on a shelf.

I picked it up, a soft smile touching my lips as I looked at the image of my mother.

Marissa Montrel.

A genuine, radiant smile on her face. My gaze drifted to the young boy beside her-myself. My face was blank and tired, but a hesitant smile was there as I held my baby sister.

A choked cough escaped me, turning into a bitter laugh.

The sound was hollow in the quiet room. My knees hit the ground, the frame clutched tightly in my hands as I slumped against the shelves.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the cold wood pressing into my forehead, desperately fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

Rachel POV

Lying on the soft bed, I felt the warm sunlight spill across my skin from the large window by the wall.

Before I even opened my eyes, I felt a small weight beside my arm... and the faint sound of a shaky sniffle.

My eyelids fluttered.

Through my tired, blurry vision, I saw Leo sitting at the edge of the bed-knees tucked tightly to his chest, his small hands gripping the blanket.

 His hazel eyes were wide and glossy, staring at me like he was terrified I might disappear again.

"Mama?" he whispered, his little voice breaking.

My heart cracked instantly.

"Oh-Leo." My voice was rough as I pushed myself up. "Hey... sweetheart."

The moment I moved, he launched himself into my arms, crawling onto my lap with all the force his tiny body could manage. He buried his face into my chest, clutching my shirt like he never wanted to let go.

"You left..." he sobbed. "I looked everywhere..."

Guilt stabbed straight through me.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, holding him tightly despite how sore and weak my limbs felt. "I didn't mean to scare you. I really didn't."

"But why?" he sniffled, pulling back just a little. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no-never." I cupped the back of his small head, my voice cracking. "I was just... scared."

"Why?" he asked again, curling closer into me like a kitten seeking warmth.

"I don't know," I whispered. It wasn't the full truth, but I couldn't bring myself to say more.

Leo nodded in that soft, earnest way he always did. "I get scared sometimes too. And Papa gets scared even though he acts tough."

A small laugh escaped me at his innocent betrayal of Damien's reputation.

"Oh really?"

"Yes." Leo beamed. "But you don't have to be like Papa. I'll be here with you! And Grandpa Vance too."

My smile wavered. Damien did save me... but the truth was harsh:

I wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't tied to him in the first place.

Before I could say anything, a knock sounded at the door.

Leo and I both turned toward it.

"Um... come in," I said softly.

A well-dressed man in a suit stepped inside - not one I recognised. Damien had too many men; I could never keep track of them all.

"The Boss requests your attention," he said politely, bowing his head. "I'll give you space to get ready, madam."

He bowed and stepped out.

Leo glanced at me. "Papa wants to see you."

I exhaled shakily.

"I'll go in a minute," I murmured. "I just... need to wash up first."

Leo nodded and stayed close, his small hand resting on my arm.

--

The hall outside my room was quiet, almost unnervingly so. Leo walked beside me, holding my hand until we reached the end of the corridor.

"I'll wait here," he whispered, giving my fingers one last squeeze.

I smiled softly. "Okay."

A guard opened the tall wooden door for me.

Damien's study was dim, lit only by the amber glow of the fireplace. Shelves lined the walls, filled with files, weapons, old maps-things I didn't dare look too closely at.

Damien stood by the large desk, sleeves rolled, hair slightly undone from lack of sleep. He looked up immediately when I stepped inside.

Something softened in his expression.

"Rachel."

My heart jumped.

He didn't speak like a mafia lord then. He spoke like a man who had stayed up all night worrying.

"I-um... your guard said you wanted to see me," I said, closing the door gently.

"Yes." He nodded once. "Come here."

The command wasn't harsh. But it still made my breath catch.

I strolled to the centre of the room. Not too close. Not too far.

Damien watched me the whole time-quiet, controlled, intense.

"You look better," he said quietly.

"I took a moment to wash up," I murmured.

"Good."

A short silence settled between us, warm but heavy.

Then he exhaled slowly, as if preparing.

"Rachel... what happened yesterday cannot happen again."

I stiffened. "I know. I-"

"No." His voice softened. "I don't mean the escape."

I blinked.

He stepped forward, only a little.

"I mean the fear."

His eyes flicked over my face-gently.

"The trembling. The panic. The danger you walked into."

My throat tightened.

"I thought keeping you inside would protect you," Damien continued. "But Vance... reminded me that isolation only makes you act out of desperation."

I lowered my gaze. Embarrassed. Exposed. Seen.

"And because of that," he said quietly, "I've decided something."

I braced myself.

"You can return to school."

It felt like a punch.

A good one.

My breath hitched as the words sank in.

"Wait... really?" I whispered, hardly believing it.

"Yes." Damien nodded. "On one condition."

Of course, there was.

"You will have a driver," he said. "And protection. Discreet. Five men, no more. You won't see them, but they'll be there."

My eyes burned suddenly-hot with relief.

"And," he added, "anything you need-books, supplies, clothing-you will use the credit card I give you. No exceptions."

I didn't even think.

I didn't even process.

I just moved.

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.

It was instinct-quick, impulsive, a burst of relief and gratitude I couldn't stop.

Damien went absolutely still.

His breath caught-sharp and quiet.

For a moment, he didn't know what to do.

His hands hovered uncertainly near my back, not touching, not pushing me away... frozen in a rare moment of vulnerability.

"I'm sorry," I gasped, pulling back immediately, face burning. "I-I didn't mean to- It was just- I got excited and- I'm sorry-"

Damien was frozen.

Actually frozen.

He blinked once, breath stuck somewhere in his chest.

"You don't need to apologise," he said, his voice low. "It was... unexpected. That's all." 

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched his lips. "Glad to see you aren't scared to touch me, unlike last night in the alley."

I flushed red, his words sounding far more sensual and intimate than he probably intended.

Damien simply raised a brow at my flustered face, then shrugged as if it were nothing.

He picked up two items from his desk and held them out. I took them from his gloved hands. One was my phone. The other was the card he'd promised.

A black credit card.

Metal. Heavy. His name engraved on the front.

"Use it for anything."

"School-related things," I clarified.

Damien's gaze held mine. "No. For anything that makes you comfortable here. Buy clothes. Bags. Whatever you want."

A genuine smile spread across my face. "Oh-then I can finally replace my broken laptop charger! And maybe get that insanely expensive textbook I need. I've been saving forever-like actually forever-"

I rambled without thinking, only noticing Damien's quiet amusement when a soft, low chuckle escaped him.

The sound made me blush. It was so pure. So soft.

And it was for me.

He tried to hide his grin, but I saw it. "Your choice, Rachel."