Chapter 139
Victoria descended the stairs like a storm cloaked in silk. Her heels echoed sharply against the marble, and the fury etched across her face only made her more lethal.
She stopped when she reached the base and took a long, deliberate look at me–bound, bruised, gag–marked lips trembling with fury. Her red lips curled.
“What the hell is she doing here?”
Her gaze darted between Mikael and Nico like they were two boys caught playing with fire.
“Why is Aria Montel in my house?” she hissed.
Mikael stepped back, entirely too calm, and gestured lazily toward Nico. “He brought her.”
Victoria’s sharp gaze snapped to Nico. “You said this was about destabilizing De Luca’s power–not dragging in his obsession like a trophy. This isn’t the medevial times. I will not condone this.”
“She’s not a trophy,” Nico said simply.
“Then what the hell is she?” she barked. “Because to me, she looks like a liability.”
Nico didn’t flinch. “She’s going to become ours. She is my woman now.“,
“She’s a mess,” Victoria snapped, motioning toward me. “And she shouldn’t be anywhere near this house. You think Dominic’s going to break because you took his toy away? He’s going to burn the world to find her.”
“Good,” Nico said, smiling. “Let him try.”
Victoria stared at him in disbelief, then turned sharply on her heel. “She’s your problem now. Just keep her out of my sight.” Nico didn’t respond.
He just waved toward one of the maids standing by the hall.
A young woman in a stiff black uniform stepped forward, her eyes flat, lips pressed into a hard line. She didn’t speak as she approached me, just grabbed me by the arm roughly and yanked.
“Hey-” I stumbled. “Let go of me!”
She didn’t care.
She dragged me through the hallway with the same grace she might’ve used for dragging out trash. Her nails dug into my arm, and the moment we reached the end of the corridor, she shoved open a wooden door and hurled me inside.
I hit the ground hard.
My knees slammed against the floor first, then my shoulder. The wind rushed out of me, and pain flared in my chest. The maid bent down and, without a word, undid the rope around my wrists.
But she didn’t help me up.
She didn’t offer water.
She didn’t look at me like a person.
She simply turned, stepped out, and slammed the door behind her.
A loud click followed.
Locked.
I stayed on the floor for a second, stunned by the pain that radiated through my limbs. My wrists throbbed from the tightness of the ropes, now raw and scraped. My shoulder ached where I landed, but it was my ankle that screamed the loudest.
When I tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness hit me. I blinked against the blur, breath ragged.
Then I moved–slowly–trying to push to my feet.
The moment I put weight on my right ankle, I cried out.
A sharp twist of pain.
Like fire shooting up my leg.
I collapsed back down, groaning, curling over
I’d twisted it.
Bad.
The swelling was already starting.
Successfully unlocked!
1/3
Chapter 135
1 dragged myself backward toward the nearest wall, using it to prop myself up into a seated position.
The room was bare
A bed, a chair, a lamp with a cracked shade. One window, barred. No mirror. No clock.
Just a cage painted in soft light.
I threw my head back against the wall and exhaled shakily.
“Let me out, I whispered, my throat dry.
Then louder.
“Let me out!”
No answer.
Only silence.
I stared at the door, the bruises forming beneath my skin, the throbbing in my ankle, the ache in my ribs–and for the first time since waking up in that car, the full weight of it hit me.
I was a prisoner.
Again.
But this time there was no sex, no fairytale love story.
No Dominic dragging me into his world only to soften the blows with whispered apologies and rough hands that made my head spin. There was no push and pull, no illusion of warmth beneath the madness.
This was cold. Quiet. And real.
The kind of real that didn’t care about pretty dresses or secret smiles.
I looked around the room again, even though I already knew what I’d find.
Nothing.
No vents. No weak spots on the door. The window was too high, barred shut and sealed in. I ran my fingers along the edge of the nightstand, hoping for a splintered piece of wood, a loose screw anything–but it was smooth and solid.
The floor was just wood. No loose planks. No cracks to dig into.
I even checked under the mattress. Dust.
No weapons. No escape.
Just walls.
And a lock I couldn’t pick even if I had something to pick it with.
I limped toward the chair, thinking maybe I could break one of the legs off, but the damn thing was bolted. Bolted. Like they‘
d already thought of that. Like they knew who they were dealing with.
I hated them for that.
I hated that they expected me to break, to sit quietly and wait for instructions. To be the snake in distress.
I hated that they weren’t entirely wrong.
I lowered myself carefully to the floor, my ankle screaming the entire way down. Then I drew my kne pressed my forehead against them, breathing slow, steady, like I could will the fear out of my blood:
Tears pressed against my throat, but I didn’t let them fall.
I didn’t dare cry.
I’d done that too many times already.
Instead, I whispered one thing.
Not loud. Not desperate.
Just a breath I sent out into the quiet, hoping it would catch onto something.
“Please… just give me a crack. A way out. A break.”
I hated praying.
But right now?
I prayed for a breakthrough.
And something answered.
to my chest and
- n.
It wasn’t loud or miraculous. No glowing lights or walls that crumbled like magic. Just a faint hiss–barely there.
2/3
Chapter 129
1 opened my eyes.
There, in the for corner, near the back leg of the bed, was a small, thin draft. A whisper of air brushing against my skin,
I crawled toward it, ignoring the fire in my ankle. Every inch forward felt the miles, but I didn’t stop I reached the comer and ren my palm over the well. At first, nothing. Just smooth plaster and cold paint. But then my fingers caught on something rough
A hairline crack
Almost invisible.
I leaned closer. It wasn’t just a wall. There was a seam. A vertical line. A panel maybe. Maybe for electrical access or something older, something hidden.
I pressed my ear to it. Nothing But the draft was definitely coming through.
A crawlspace?
A service tunnel?
My heart kicked. It wasn’t much–but it was something.
I pressed both palms against the panel and tried to push. Nothing. I adjusted my position and tried to pull. Still nothing. But I felt it. Loose at the top. I needed something flat to wedge in there, something to pry it open.
My mind raced–chair leg? No, bolted. Maybe the lamp?
I turned and limped toward the nightstand, reaching for the old lamp and yanked the shade off. The metal beneath was warped and dented, but the base was solid. I pulled with everything I had until the bottom snapped clean off.
Perfect
I returned to the panel, wedged the jagged metal edge into the seam, and twisted.
It creaked,
A faint groan.
The edge cracked wider.
I pushed again–heart racing–just one more pull and-
The door slammed open behind me.
“Hey!” a voice barked.
I froze.
Footsteps stormed into the room, and I had just enough time to slide the metal piece under the mattress before the maid- not the same one as earlier, younger, but meaner–grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the wall.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.
“I was trying to find a bathroom,” I lied. “Or are you psychos planning to let me rot in here too?”
Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe me.
But she didn’t see the panel.
That mattered more.
She shoved me toward the bed. “Sit. Stay. Try this again, and I’ll break that other ankle.”
She left. The door slammed again.
Locked,
I sat. Breathing hard.
My ankle throbbed. My shoulder ached. My hands were still scraped from the ropes. But I smiled because I know that I was going to find a way out even if I had to lose another ankle.
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