FAZER LOGINAlain’s POVI talked to her in my head the way drowning men pray.Celeste… please be okay. Please be alive.I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.The words looped through me like a pulse I couldn’t shut off.I had tried many times not to think of her too much, but my mind always snapped back to her. Especially to those last moments we were together in that car. And now I didn’t even know if she was breathing.I shoved my hand against a rough tree trunk, grounding myself, sucking in a shaky breath.“This is stupid,” I muttered to myself. “She’s out there. Somewhere. You don’t get to fall apart.”Henri had asked me to gather logs before the storm hit. Said it’d distract me. I wasn’t sure about that. But I still found myself wandering deeper into the forest, picking up fallen branches, stacking them under one arm.The sky above was changing—bruised purple bleeding into gray. The wind tasted like rain. The trees whispered warnings as their leaves shuddered.A storm was coming.I could feel it in
Nico’s POVI didn’t think. I just moved.Bootsteps approached the hallway, and the first door I saw was cracked open. I slipped inside fast, pressing the wood shut behind me without a sound. My pulse hammered so hard I could feel it in my throat.Great. Perfect. Hide in someone’s damn bedroom like a thief.Real smooth, Nico.Voices drifted from the kitchen—Martha’s and Sage’s—close enough that if I breathed too loud, they’d hear me.I froze, listening. Martha’s voice was low, strained. “He called again. He’s looking for you.”Everything inside me went still.A beat of silence, and then Sage’s voice—sharp and brittle. “I don’t care. He doesn’t own us anymore.”The words hit me harder than they should’ve. Who could be looking for her, and why did her voice carry anger and fear?“You should stop answering his calls. He’s dead to me. He should be dead to you too.” Her tone was sharp and full of pain at the same time. I could tell. But I shouldn’t care. It wasn’t my business. But still,
Damien’s POVBy the time I walked down the executive hallway that morning, everyone was already pretending not to watch me. No one greeted me anymore. No wide-eyed “Sir, welcome back!”Now they only lowered their voices and straightened in their seats, as if my presence alone reminded them to panic quietly.Fine by me.It had been days since I came back from France.Days of fixing fires I didn’t start. Days of twelve-hour meetings, nonstop calls, and quiet calculations of how much damage my father had caused while I was gone. Just because of his favorite son Levi. God. What a mess. I had long stopped caring about what he thought of me. But when his actions and decisions affected the company I’d worked my ass off for, that was a whole different story. As I passed the glass panels of the strategy wing, I thought back to my first day home—when I had walked straight from the airport to the office, exhausted but very alert. Mark had immediately dragged me into a private meeting, dark
Celeste’s POVIt had been days since Damien left.Days of waking up to quiet halls, predictable routines, and a strange hollow space in my chest I refused to acknowledge.But every morning—without fail—he messaged me.Nothing dramatic. Or flirty. Or pressuring.Just:Good morning.At first, I only sent back a thumbs-up. Then a smiley.Something safe. Something distant.But this morning… I don’t know what overcame me.My fingers typed Good morning back—actual words—and before I could overthink it, second-guess it, or panic……I hit send.The moment my thumb tapped the screen, my heart launched into a sprint.What did I just do? God, why did I do that?When his reply finally came, it was simple. Just a smiley.A single, small, harmless smiley.And yet—it made warmth bloom in my chest like an idiot. I caught myself smiling at the phone like a lovesick teenager and immediately set it down face-down.“No,” I whispered to myself. “No, absolutely not. Get it together.”I needed a distraction.
Genevieve’s POVI didn’t know if it had been two or three days that had passed, because Lucien controlled the light, the food, and my freedom like he controlled the air I breathed.And after I found his shrine—the photos, the scraps, the obsession—I could feel the shift inside him.His moods no longer shifted. They snapped.One moment he’d brush my hair back gently, whispering, “You’re safe with me.” The next, he’d shove me back onto the bed because I asked too many questions.Today, he withheld food. Just… didn’t bring any. As if punishing me without saying it aloud.My stomach growled painfully, twisting in on itself. But I fought the weakness.I needed clarity and strength. I needed to survive long enough to escape.Lucien entered the cabin without warning, dropping a bundle of firewood so hard the logs scattered across the floor. His chest rose and fell with a barely contained fury.I stayed still on the cot, back straight, expression soft—like I’d learned to do.“Is something wro
Nico’s POVI hated how much space Sage Keene took up in my head. It pissed me off how that voice made me want to be better.And now that I knew she was Martha Keene’s daughter?Yeah. Great. Just perfect.Two women on this ranch whose approval suddenly mattered to me for reasons I couldn’t explain without sounding like an idiot.I doubled my effort. I worked earlier, stayed later, fixed fences no one asked me to fix, mucked out stalls before anyone woke up.And Martha noticed.“Good work today, Nico,” she said one morning, clapping my shoulder. “Keep this up.”It shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did. Like some part of me—one I thought had died years ago—wanted to stand up straighter.But Sage? She didn’t give me a single damn inch.She avoided me, rolled her eyes whenever I passed, and only spoke to me with that clipped, unimpressed tone. It made me want her more. And it made me fucking insane.One afternoon, she marched past me near the paddocks, tossing a sack of feed over her







