Aloe's POV

I was still sitting on the floor, lost in thought when the lights went off, signaling that it was time for bed. I was still contemplating on how to leave this loveless marriage, but no idea was coming aside going to Blake Williams, Wake's altermost rival. That I didn't even notice how late it was already.

I managed and stood up, took off the sheets and placed new ones, I didn't bother taking a shower, I just changed my clothes and moved to the bed.

I lay on the edge, facing the wall, my body tense as if even in dreams I'd have to defend myself. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of wind through the curtains kept my mind on high alert. My hand stayed pressed to my stomach most of the night, as if I could shield the baby from the poison that seemed to seep from every corner of this house.

When morning light crept through the curtains, it felt like a spotlight, exposing the mess inside me. My limbs were heavy, but I dragged myself up, slipping into a robe before heading toward the kitchen. I needed a strong and bitter coffee, just something that could keep me from crumbling before I see his cheating asshole face.

But I should have known he'd be in the kitchen, that's his favourite morning position.

Wakes sat at the counter in a perfectly brown suit, every button closed, every strand of hair in place. With his usual businessman mask. A cup of black coffee steamed beside him, and he had the morning paper spread open like nothing in the world could touch him. He didn't look up when I entered, didn't acknowledge me at all, as though I was simply part of the furniture.

I poured myself a cup, willing my hands to stay steady. The clink of the spoon against the mug felt too loud in the quiet.

Finally, without lowering the paper, he spoke. "So. You've decided to be silent now? You were loud enough last night."

My jaw tightened. "I don't know how you expect me to act after what I saw."

He folded the paper slowly, deliberately, and set it aside. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at me like a teacher addressing a misbehaving student. "I expect you to act like my wife. Not some emotional wreck who can't handle the realities of marriage."

My breath hitched. "The realities of marriage?" My voice rose before I could stop it. "You think cheating is a reality I should just accept?"

His expression didn't change, if anything, his eyes grew colder. "You're so naïve, Aloe. You think because you wear my ring, I owe you... what? Fidelity? Or undivided attention?

He scoffed, "I provide for you. I give you a roof over your head, clothes, a life people would kill for. That should be enough."

The words landed like stones, each one heavier than the last. I have suspected it for months that I was more decoration than partner but hearing it aloud still knocked the air out of me.

"You don't love me," I whispered.

He smirked faintly. "I married you. That's more than I've given anyone else."

It was so blunt, so carefully designed to wound, that for a moment my throat closed. My chest ached, but I forced my tears to stay put. I would not give him the satisfaction of watching me break.

He stood up, picking up his coffee as if the conversation bored him. "And do yourself a favor, don't start some divorce fantasy in your head. Because you wouldn't last a month without me."

The challenge in his voice wasn't empty. It was a warning.

I stayed quiet as he walked out, the echo of the front door ringing through the silence and thoughts he left behind.

When he was gone, I let out a shuddering breath and gripped the counter to keep my hands from shaking. His words replayed in my mind, but instead of scaring me into obedience, they lit a spark.

He thought I wouldn't last a month without him. He thought I couldn't survive on my own.

Well he was wrong because I can survive eternity without him, but my sub-conscious was already judging that thought.

But I ignored it and went upstairs, straight to my room and pulled out the smallest suitcase I could find. It wasn't much, just a box enough to hold clothes, essentials, and the few keepsakes I couldn't bear to leave behind. My movements were quick but careful, my ears straining for the sound of the front door in case he came back early.

Every folded dress felt like a quiet act of rebellion and every zipped compartment was a step closer to breathing freely again.

My hands lingered on the nightstand drawer. Inside was a small envelope containing the appointment slip for my next checkup. I had planned to surprise him with it... God, how stupid that sounded now. The thought of handing it to him, expecting joy, made my stomach twist. I immediately pushed the thought aside and slid it into my bag.

This wasn't just about leaving a husband. It was about saving myself and the tiny life growing inside me from a man who treated love like a business deal.

But leaving wasn't going to be simple. Wakes noticed everything. He controlled everything. And if I simply walked out, he'd track me down before I reached the end of the street.

I needed someone who could hide me. Someone with resources. Someone he couldn't easily intimidate or buy off.

And I knew exactly who that someone was.

The thought made my pulse quicken. Calling him was a risk... a massive one. The kind of risk that could change everything, not just for me, but for Wakes too. This wasn't just asking for help. This was opening a door I might never be able to close again.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my phone cold and heavy in my palm. My thumb hovered over the contacts list, hesitating. His name sat there like a ticking clock.

Finally, I tapped it.

The number rang twice before a deep, familiar voice answered. "I was wondering if you would ever call."

My throat tightened. "I need your help."

There was a pause. Then a low chuckle that slid down my spine like a warning. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, Mrs Savage."

I swallowed. "You'll keep me safe?"

His voice was calm, assured. "Safer than you've ever been with him."

My grip on the phone tightened. "When?"

"Tonight," he said. "My driver will be there at eleven. Pack light, and don't let him see you leave."

A shiver ran through me. I should have asked more questions, demanded to know the cost. But deep down, I already knew that nothing with him came free.

And something in his tone told me this wasn't just about helping me, and I just hope he doesn't ask for what I can't give in return.

Aloe's POV

The hours between morning and night felt endless.

Every tick of the clock sounded louder than usual, like a countdown marking the seconds I had left in the house that had become a prison. Every creak of the floorboards echoed like a threat, taunting me with the possibility that Wakes might return early and catch me halfway through my escape.

I kept my bag tucked under the bed, hidden in the shadows, like a secret I wasn't ready to reveal.

The room around me blurred into something unreal. I went through the motions as if nothing was wrong. But inside, my nerves were frayed raw, and my thoughts kept spiraling back to one place: tonight.

Wakes had texted earlier, his message cold and clipped.

Message;;;

   Contact:MY WAKES

 "Business dinner, I will be back late."

I didn't care to imagine what "business dinner" really meant because by now, I'd learned not to trust his words, just his absences. That was the only reason I'd dared set the pickup for eleven. The later it was, the fewer eyes on the street, the less chance of running into anyone who might report back to him.

By nine, I had double-checked my bag three times. Clothes for a week, nothing too flashy, just simple tops and jeans. My ID, bank cards, a small wad of cash I'd quietly saved over the past few months, and the envelope with my next appointment slip folded carefully on top.

At ten, I sat on the edge of the bed, my phone clutched tight in my hands. My eyes darted to the clock every other minute, the glowing numbers mocking my desperation. My chest felt tight, as my legs restless, the familiar ache of fear settling in my stomach. Every part of me screamed that I was about to do something I could never undo.

By ten-forty, I couldn't sit still anymore. I paced the length of the room slowly, rehearsing every detail in my head. How I'd slip past the security cameras, how I'd avoid the neighbors, how I'd keep my face calm and unreadable when I passed the driver waiting in the dark outside.

At ten-fifty-five, my phone buzzed sharply against the wooden floor.

Message;;;

   Contact: RESCUE TEAM

Driver's outside. Black SUV, don't keep him waiting.

Don't ask me why I saved his contact as Rescue team, because you really don't know who wakes is, that man is a monster.

Immediately after I finished reading the text, my throat went dry. My hand went to my belly automatically, as if I could shield the fragile life inside me from the storm I was stepping into.

It's now or never, I told myself, the words brittle but steady.

The house felt impossibly quiet as I moved down the stairs, my shoes in my hand so they wouldn't click against the marble floor. Every shadow seemed to stretch and twist into something threatening like Wakes could be behind the curtains, ready to pull me back into the cage.

I reached the front door and froze. My fingers hovered over the lock, heart pounding so hard I was sure it would give me away.

Go. Before you lose the nerve, I echoed to myself. I slipped out, closing the door behind me with slow, and quiet moves, as if quiet could erase the fact that I was leaving for good.

The street was empty except for the black SUV parked just a pool down, its engine humming low in the stillness. The tinted window on the passenger side rolled down a fraction, and a man's voice called softly, "Mrs. Savage?"

My stomach twisted at the sound of my married name. I nodded, swallowing hard, and hurried over.

The driver stepped out, a tall man in a dark jacket and cap pulled low. His face was mostly hidden in shadow, but his eyes flicked over me with quick, assessing precision, like he was trained to notice every detail.

"Bag," he said simply, reaching for it.

I hesitated. "I can carry it."

He didn't argue. Instead, he opened the back door for me. I slid inside, and the door shut behind me with a quiet, final thud that made my heart leap.

The SUV pulled smoothly away from the curb, the city lights blurring past the window as we moved farther and farther from everything I'd known.

"Are you nervous?" the driver asked after a long silence.

I startled slightly, turning toward him. "Wouldn't you be?"

His mouth quivered into the faintest hint of a smile. "He's not going to catch you tonight. I made sure of that."

Something about the confidence in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, part relief, part warning.

"You sound like you've been planning this," I said carefully, eyes still fixed on the dark streets.

"Not me," he replied, "but the man you're going to? Let's just say he's been waiting for an opportunity. And now... he has it."

"Why would he care what happens to me?"

The driver's gaze moved to me in the rearview mirror. His eyes were unreadable, but there was something sharp in them, like a blade hidden beneath calm. "Because helping you hurts Wakes Savage. And that's reason enough."

I gripped the strap of my bag tighter. "Where exactly are we going?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"You'll see when we get there," he said.

I didn't like vague answers, but I wasn't in any position to argue. I pressed my back into the seat, trying to slow my breathing. Every turn we took felt like another thread snapping from the life I'd been bound to.

After twenty minutes, the city lights faded behind us.

Suddenly, the driver's phone buzzed. He answered without hesitation.

"She's with me," he said simply.

A deep male voice came through, low and deliberate. "Good. I'll be waiting."

The line went dead before I could react.

I stared at the back of the driver's head, my heart thudding. "Was that...?"

"Not yet," he said, cutting me off. "You'll meet him soon enough."  And silence filled the rest of the drive.

When we finally slowed, the headlights swept over a gated entrance. The driver leaned out to punch in a code, and the heavy iron gates swung open with a grinding creak.

Beyond them, a long driveway curved toward a building that looked more like an apartment than a mansion. But it is impossible to see inside without stepping past the gates.

The SUV rolled to a stop in front of the entrance. The driver got out, came around, and opened my door. He extended a hand to help me out.

I took it hesitantly, my eyes tilting nervously to the door just ahead. Somewhere behind it was the man I'd called for help, my husband's sworn enemy. The man who, according to the driver, had been waiting for this moment.

"Go on," the driver said, nodding toward the door. "He's inside."

I adjusted my grip on my bag, took a deep breath, and stepped toward the door, but It opened before I could knock.

Aloe's POV

The door opened before I could even raise my hand to knock.

He stood there, tall, broad, and was like a figure carved from shadows and light, like he belonged in a different world altogether.

And standing before me is no other person than Blake's Matthew. The man whose name was whispered like a curse at Wakes Savage's gatherings. The man Wakes had sworn to ruin.

"Mrs. Savage," he said smoothly, his voice low and certain, like this was the moment he'd been waiting years for.

My heart slammed against my ribs, each beat a warning. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

I don't understand what he meant by that but my instinct was telling me to turn and run and battle with the iron will that had kept me standing through every storm. But I couldn't go back, not after what I'd left behind.

Blake stepped aside, his movements slow and deliberate. "Come in. Before someone thinks you're stranded with nowhere to go."

The front door closed behind me with a weighty click, the sound final, almost sealing my fate.

The house was nothing like the cold, polished mansion I'd left. Warm wood stretched across the floors, its grain marked by years. The walls were lined with shelves of books, their spines worn and softened by time. The faint scent of smoke, and fresh coffee curled through the air. It felt... lived in. Like real.

He led me down a narrow hallway into a sitting room where a fireplace was. Its low crackle broke the silence in a way that made the room feel smaller, and more intimate.

He gestured to a couch, but I stayed standing, arms crossed, unwilling to sink into comfort I hadn't yet earned.

"You look like you have questions," he said, pouring amber liquid into a short glass. His movements were unhurried, as if control was stitched into his very being.

"That's an understatement," I replied, sharper than I meant to.

He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving mine. "You called for help. I'm helping. Simple as that."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's not the whole story. You and Wakes... you hate each other. So why help me?"

His eyes darkened, but his expression stayed steady. "Because you're the one thing he can't control."

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "That's not true."

"It is," he said quietly, placing the glass down with care. "Wakes built his empire on control, on fear, on loyalty bought and bound. Everyone bends to him. Except you. And that's what drives him insane."

His words scraped against the truth I'd buried deep. The loneliness. The silences that cut sharper than arguments. The way I'd been placed on a pedestal that felt more like a cage.

"So this is just another move in your war with him?" I asked.

"That's part of it."

"At least you're honest." My arms tightened across my chest.

"But not the whole truth," he added, stepping closer. The faint spice of his cologne was so unsettling.

I held my ground. "Then what is it?"

He paused, and for the briefest moment, the hard lines of his face eased. "Because... you're stronger than you realize. Because you didn't run when everyone expected you to. Because you survived."

A hundred questions clawed at the edge of my tongue, but his words pinned me in place.

"You don't trust me," he said with a small chuckle.

"Not yet."

He gave a small nod. "Good. You shouldn't trust anyone too quickly, not in this world."

The fire popped softly, and for a long moment, the only thing I could hear was my own breathing.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black phone. "This is yours, the phone is untraceable. Use it for me. If Wakes calls your old phone, don't answer or better still, switch it off."

I took the phone, its cold weight grounding me in the strangeness of the moment.

"Why all this?" I asked. "What do you want from me?"

He smiled, before answering. "It's not just about what I want. It's about balance. Wakes thinks he's untouchable. But I'm here to prove otherwise."

My jaw tightened. "And you think using me is the way to do that?"

"Not just using you," he said evenly. "Protecting you. Because if you fall, he wins. And I won't let that happen."

I looked at the phone again, feeling the weight of choices I hadn't even made yet. "What now?"

"Rest tonight," he said. "You're safe here."

Safe. The word felt foreign, like it belonged to another life.

He nodded toward a door down the hall. "Tomorrow, we plan. There's a war coming, and you're in the middle of it now."

I followed him to the guest room, my heart pounding not just from fear, but from the quiet, unsettling realization that I had stepped from one battlefield straight into another.

Because tonight, I had escaped Wakes Savage.

But very soon... The real fight will begin.