Chapter Eight-Amelia

The world felt too quiet after the shotgun clattered to the floor.

The air was still thick with tension, the kind that hums just before a storm breaks. My kidnappers stood frozen — shock, rage, and something like fear flickering in their eyes.

And then there were the three men.

Mateo, the one who had burst through the door, still stood like a shadow of danger, his golden eyes locked on me. Jason lingered near the wall, his presence calm but charged, the air around him strangely heavy, like it was bending to his will. Dimitri… Dimitri was right in front of me, tall and steady, his body angled between me and the only people I’d ever known.

“Come with us,” he said again, his voice lower this time, softer — but still unshakable.

I couldn’t move. My feet felt rooted to the floor. Every part of me screamed that this was a terrible idea. That going with strangers was how I ended up in this life in the first place.

But my chest ached with that pull — that invisible thread that had wrapped around me the moment I saw them in the market. I didn’t understand it, but I couldn’t ignore it either.

The woman hissed from behind Dimitri. “You don’t know what you’re doing, girl.”

I did look at her then. And for the first time in my life, I realized… she was afraid of me. Or maybe of them. Either way, it gave me enough courage to take one shaky step forward.

Mateo’s gaze followed the movement like he was afraid I’d disappear if he blinked.

“Amelia,” the man growled, his voice sharp enough to pierce bone. “You step outside that door, you’ll regret it.”

I flinched, but Dimitri shifted just enough to block my view of him. “Don’t listen to him,” he murmured.

My name in his voice was strange — less like a command, more like… a promise.

I didn’t know when I decided, only that suddenly my legs were moving. One step. Two. And then I was close enough that Dimitri’s scent — something dark and warm, edged with smoke — brushed against me.

The man made a move toward us, but Mateo’s growl was so deep it rattled the floorboards. “Try it,” he said, his voice like fire.

Jason gestured toward the open doorway, and somehow, the night outside felt like the first breath I’d taken in years. Cold air swept in, cutting through the stale, heavy air of the house.

The woman called my name again, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. If I did, I might lose whatever thin thread of bravery was holding me together.

Once we were outside, the door slammed shut behind us — not by hand, but with a force that made the wood splinter at the frame. I glanced at Jason, and he only raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s go,” Mateo said, scanning the street. “We’ve been here too long.”

I followed them, still unsure if this was rescue or kidnapping all over again. The fear was there, clawing at my throat, but underneath it was something I hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

It scared me more than anything.