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.

Wakes  pov

I woke up to the harsh glare of sunlight pouring through the thin curtains, my head pounding like I'd been hit with a hammer. The room smelled of cum and alcohol, nothing like the warmth of our main bedroom. For a few seconds, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together how I ended up here.

The guest room.

Of all places.

Then the blurry flashes of last night came back. A bar, too much whiskey, and a girl whose name I never cared to learn. Her perfume had been heavy, clinging to my shirt, her laugh loud enough to drown out the noise in my head. A mistake, sure, but one I'd chosen. One I could shrug off, because sometimes you need to sink low just to breathe.

I'd taken the guest room deliberately when I got back, not because it was comfortable, but because it was far from Aloe. I didn't want the questions. The quiet accusations. The way her eyes could strip me bare without her saying a word. I thought a few hours of silence would be a blessing.

Turns out, it was a curse.

Dragging myself out of bed, I ran a hand through my messy hair and headed toward the main room expecting to find Aloe there. Maybe sitting with that stiff posture she gets when she's angry. Or ready to throw a sarcastic comment my way. Anything.

But the bed was untouched. The sheets are smooth. Her pillow was exactly where it always was, only without the faint smell of her hair.

Something inside me twisted.

I searched the living room but she wasn't there. The kitchen was empty too. Even the terrace, where she sometimes went to cool off, was deserted. Each empty room fueled my irritation until it was a steady burn in my chest.

I went straight to the security post. The guard was leaning against the desk, half-distracted by his phone.

"Have you seen Aloe since last night?" I asked, my voice low but sharp enough to make him straighten.

He shook his head. "No, sir. Not since yesterday evening."

I stared at him, waiting for more, but he avoided my eyes. My patience was already thin, and his evasiveness pushed it to the edge.

"Pull the footage," I ordered.

The place where all the CCTV recordings were kept, felt colder than usual. The hum of the equipment filled the air as I rewound through the hours, my eyes locked on the screens.

I scrolled back to the day she caught me with the blonde girl on our bed..mm but it was filled with cries so I skipped till where she pulled out her phone, glanced around, then made a call.

I leaned closer to the monitor, but the audio was nothing but scrambled static. My jaw clenched. Who was she talking to, without my permission, I'm sure she's with whoever that person was. My worst mistake was giving her a phone.

I inhaled loudly, then skipped to the next day... I wanted to fast forward to evening time after the security man saw her last ... but I paused when I saw her suitcase, half-open on the floor, clothes spilling out everywhere. A few dresses, jeans, and shirts and.. few stuff but I quickly skipped till when I saw her carrying her bag outside.

I clicked on the outside camera as the video played full screen. And there was a Black SVC which she entered after a little talk with whoever that person holding the door for her was.

My heartbeat slowed, heavy, like my body was bracing for something my mind didn't want to accept.

Was leaving me, of course she can't, she can't spend more than 48 hours without my help.

I sat there longer than I needed to, staring at the paused frame of her stepping into the car. The Aloe I knew or thought I knew would never vanish in the middle of the night without saying a word. And yet here was proof.

By the time I left the surveillance room, anger was everywhere around me, because I got inside the main building, I had my phone and dialed my Tech guy's digits.

"Heron," I said immediately he picked up, "I need you to trace something for me. Last night, Aloe made a call. I want to know who she called."

There was a short pause, before he said. "Give me the time and the phone number she used in making the call."

I told him the exact minute I'd seen her on the footage, then called her phone digits for him. I could hear his keyboard tapping in the background.

"Got it," he said after what felt like eternity. "The call came from Blake Matthew's personal apartment."

I still went.

"That's impossible."

"No, it's not," Heron replied. "That's what the logs show."

I shook my head. "No one goes to Blake's apartment, not without an invitation. He meets people at his villa, his penthouse, his mansion... but never that place."

Heron didn't argue. "All I know is what the system tells me."

I ended the call without another word, my grip tightening around the phone until the plastic creaked.

Blake Matthew, my fucking enemy. And Aloe had gone to him.

The thought alone was enough to make my blood feel like boiling tar. It wasn't the fact that she'd left but she fucking went to my enemy, of all places to go.

I stood there in the middle of the room, and made myself a promise... one I had no intention of breaking.

She could run to the ends of the earth. She could hide behind locked doors and powerful names.

But I would find her. Because as long as we didn't end with a signature on some divorce papers, she's still my legal wife, and nobody takes what belongs to me.

And as for Aloe... she hadn't seen the lengths I could go yet.... She's about to bring out the monster that created the monster in me.