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."

Rachel POV 

The morning sun hit different when you had a closet full of clothes that didn't come from thrift stores.

I stepped out of my room wearing the outfit I'd put together with literal disbelief:

A soft cream sweater, new fitted jeans, clean white sneakers, and a subtle pink lip gloss I'd stared at for ten minutes before buying.

My hair actually looked decent, after using the card to shop for new conditioner and shampoo.

My backpack was spacious and made of real leather.

I looked like... a different girl than what the old Rachel usually wore to school.

I finally stepped out of the manor doors into the courtyard. A sleek black car waited out front with the driver standing beside it.

Behind it, another SUV held the five guards-trying way too hard to blend in with the simple casual clothes they'd been given.

Leo spotted me first.

"MAMA!" he shouted, practically bouncing as Damien held him steady by the shoulders. Damien was mid-conversation with the five men, but his gaze snapped to me immediately.

My heart warmed.

Leo waved both hands in the air like he was trying to signal an aeroplane.

Damien placed one large hand gently over Leo's to calm him, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward when he saw me.

Damn.

He noticed.

He noticed everything.

His gaze swept over me-slow, assessing-lingering a half-second too long on the gloss on my lips. He definitely noticed I dressed up a bit.

I pretended not to melt.

Leo ran toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"You look so pretty! Did you get new clothes?"

I laughed. "Yes, I ordered them over the weekend. But they came pretty fast."

"Papa bought it?" Leo added.

My eyes flicked to Damien.

His expression didn't change-but something warm flickered beneath the ice.

"Yes," I said softly. "Papa helped."

Leo beamed, proud as ever.

Damien finally spoke, voice low and steady.

"You ready for school?"

I lifted my brand-new backpack. "Ready."

He stepped a bit closer.

Close enough that I caught the faint scent of something cold and expensive.

"You'll have the driver, as promised. They'll drop you off at the main gate-not inside. I don't want attention drawn to you."

His eyes dropped again to my outfit.

Something unreadable passed through them.

"You look..."

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

"...better."

My cheeks warmed.

"Thanks," I muttered.

Leo tugged my sleeve. "Bring me snacks when you come back!"

"I'll try."

Damien raised a brow. "She's going to school, Leo."

Leo pouted dramatically. "But I want to try outside snacks."

I laughed and ruffled his hair.

The driver opened the door for me.

Damien's voice reached me just as I was about to step inside.

"Rachel."

I looked back.

His gaze held mine with quiet, undeniable intensity.

"If anything feels off..." his tone hardened, "...notify the guards immediately."

I swallowed. "I will."

He gave a single, slow nod.

Leo waved wildly.

"BYE MAMA!! LOVE YOUUU!"

I smiled back at them-at him-and climbed into the car.

As the engine started and the manor began to shrink behind us, I felt it:

For the first time since stepping into this world...

...I was allowed to breathe.

--

The driver dropped me at the main gate just like Damien instructed; smooth, quiet, clean exit.

From the outside, the campus looked painfully normal.

Students walked around with backpacks, coffee cups, loud laughter... all the things I hadn't experienced in weeks.

But the second I stepped through the gate?

Whispers.

Low at first.

Then sharper.

"Did you see the news last night?"

"It's the Montrel symbol again-"

"They said some girl was involved."

"Crazy. Imagine being there-"

I kept my head down.

My brand-new shoes suddenly felt way too loud against the pavement.

I pulled out my phone.

Damien had returned it cleaned, reset, and fully charged.

A notification banner popped up immediately:

BREAKING: Alley Clash Between Rival Groups - MONTREL Mark Found.

My stomach flipped.

I tapped it open.

Images.

Police tape.

Graffiti of the mark Damien carved.

Reporters speculating.

Rumors spiraling.

Victim statements suggest a young woman may have been present... though identity is unknown.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

They didn't know it was me.

Better keep it that way.

I shut off the screen quickly, shoving the phone into my pocket.

But before I could move, I heard it-

"Rachel?"

My spine went stiff.

I turned around slowly.

And there he was.

Eli Moreno.

My accidental crush.

Senior art major.

Tall, warm brown skin, soft curls falling over his forehead, sketchbook under his arm like he was born with it.

He blinked at me, confused relief on his face."Rachel? You're actually here-I thought you were sick or something."

His gaze dragged over my outfit, stopping on my lip gloss for a millisecond too long.

"...you look really different."

"Uh-yeah," I said awkwardly, my voice a little too high. "Just... a rough few weeks. Family stuff."

"Must have been some family stuff," he said, his eyes lingering on the quality of my sweater. 

"You vanished. And now you come back looking like that." He stepped closer, lowering his voice with a teasing smirk. "So, what's the deal? You got some rich boyfriend keeping you busy?"

My eyes widened. I couldn't let him think I was unavailable. "What? No! No, it's nothing like that. I'm... I'm single." The word felt like a lie, but it was technically true.

Eli looked me up and down, his face unreadable before a slow, appreciative smirk appeared. "That's good to know."

A flutter of hope sparked in my chest. "Good?" I prompted, a shy smile touching my lips.

Before he could answer, my phone buzzed. A single text from an unknown number:

Unknown: Status? The individual you're with is not in our files. Advise.

My blood ran cold. The individual you're with. They were watching, and they didn't know who Eli was. I resisted the urge to scan the crowd for them.

Eli's smirk faded as he saw my face pale. "Everything okay?"

"Yep!" I said, too quickly, forcing a bright tone. "Just... a spam text." I needed to get this back on track, to grasp this one shred of my old life. 

"So, uh... since I'm single and you think it's 'good'..." I took a small, nervous breath. "Would you want to get coffee after the lecture today? I mean, if you're not too busy?"

The shift was instant. Eli's friendly warmth evaporated. His posture straightened, and he took a subtle half-step back, creating a cold space between us.

"Sorry, Rachel," he said, his voice now flat and polite. "I'm busy." He sharply removed his hands from his pockets, the movement final and dismissive, completely at odds with the guy who'd been smirking seconds ago.

Before I could stammer a reply, he gave a tight, meaningless smile. "See you around."

He turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the hall, the heat of embarrassment rushing to my cheeks. I felt like a fool. Of course, my stupid, adolescent advances wouldn't move him. Did my new look somehow make me look desperate? Or was it something else?

I sighed, the brief illusion of normalcy shattering around me. This kind of hope was a liability. It got you noticed, and it got you hurt.

And in my world, getting noticed was the most dangerous thing of all.