Chapter 3- A dangerous salvation

The entire suite fell in a suffocating tension. Aurora’s wrist burned, but she barely felt it anymore. Her pulse was erratic as she stared at the imposing man before her. His presence was overwhelming, his gaze piercing–a shade of gray that felt like it could see right through her. There was something about him, something peculiar… something that pulled her in, even though every instinct screamed at her to run.

Without a word, he took the sharp shard from her trembling fingers and tossed it aside.

"M-Mr. Moore, this is a misunderstanding," the old man stammered, his voice cracking. "I–I had no idea she was under your protection."

Aurora's breath hitched. Under his protection?

Grayson remained indifferent to the man's pathetic attempts at explaining himself. Instead, he pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around Aurora’s bleeding wrist. His fingers were cold, steady, yet surprisingly gentle.

Aurora flinched at the unexpected contact. "Who... who are you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

His gaze flickered to hers, unreadable. "No one you need to concern yourself with."

His voice was cold, detached. A shiver crawled down her spine, but before she could react, he turned his attention back to the old man.

“She is no longer yours.”

The quiet finality of his words sent a wave of terror through the old man.

“B-But, Mr. Moore, I–”

"Did you think you could buy something that belongs to me?" Grayson cut him off, his voice razor-sharp.

Aurora stiffened. Belongs to him? What was he saying? She had never even met this man before.

The old man paled, shaking his head frantically. "N-No! I–I was only—"

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak.”

His voice was deceptively soft, yet laced with an undeniable warning. A second later, one of his men grabbed the old man by the collar and dragged him toward the door. His panicked pleas faded into the hallway, swallowed by silence.

Aurora’s throat tightened. This man… he was dangerous.

She found herself stepping back instinctively. "What… what are you going to do to him?" she asked hesitantly.

Grayson didn’t answer. Instead, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The heavy fabric swallowed her small frame, carrying a scent that was dark, rich, and undeniably masculine.

“Come.”

Aurora took another step back. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“I don’t even know you.”

Grayson finally looked at her, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. “Then let me make it simple for you, Aurora.”

She inhaled sharply. He knew her name?

"You have two choices," he continued. "Walk out of here alone, with nowhere to go… or come with me."

Her stomach twisted. She should run. She should fight. But where would she go? Felix had sold her. Her mother was in the hospital, in desperate need of treatment. She had no home, no money, no one to turn to.

Her body trembled- whether from fear or exhaustion, she couldn’t tell anymore.

Grayson took a step closer, his voice calm, deliberate. "Decide now."

Aurora swallowed hard. She had no idea what she was stepping into. But she had even less to lose.

Lifting her chin, she whispered, "I'll go with you."

For the briefest moment, something flickered in his gaze. Satisfaction.

Without another word, he turned and led her out of the suite. Aurora followed, each step feeling like she was walking deeper into the unknown.

____

The drive was silent.

Aurora sat stiffly in the black leather seat, gripping the edges of his jacket as though it were a lifeline. The scent of it clung to her, foreign yet suffocatingly familiar. She should have felt relieved she had escaped a nightmare.

But sitting next to him, the fear hadn’t left.

It was only growing.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper.

Grayson didn’t glance at her. His focus remained on the road, his hand resting lazily on the wheel, yet his control over the moment was absolute.

"You will know once we get there," he said, his tone void of emotion.

His vagueness only unsettled her further. She turned to the window, watching as the city lights faded into darkness. No streets she recognized. No familiar signs.

Nothing but shadows.

Her pulse quickened. “I have a right to know...”

“We’re here.”

Her breath hitched as the car turned onto a secluded road, leading to an estate hidden in the depths of the night.

No. Not an estate. A fortress.

Towering iron gates parted without hesitation, as if acknowledging their master’s presence. Beyond them, the mansion loomed in the darkness—cold, unyielding, its presence both regal and forbidding. The stone walls were illuminated only by the dim glow of scattered lights, casting long shadows that made the place feel untouched by time.

Aurora clutched the jacket tighter. “What is this place?”

Grayson’s gaze flickered toward her. "My home."

Home. But it didn’t feel like one.

The car came to a stop, and the moment the doors opened, the cold night air wrapped around her like an uninvited guest. Two men in black suits stood at the entrance, expressionless. Unlike the ones who had taken her earlier, these men held a different kind of presence.

Not disinterest.

Curiosity.

Aurora hesitated.

"Out," Grayson commanded, stepping out without waiting for her.

She exhaled sharply, ignoring the unease in her stomach, and followed him inside.

The interior was just as she had imagined—grand, polished, untouched. Yet it lacked warmth. The mansion was not lifeless, but distant. Like its owner.

She barely had time to take in the surroundings before an older man approached. “Sir.”

Grayson nodded. “Bring Dr. Langston.”

Aurora frowned. “A doctor?”

Grayson’s gaze flickered to her wrist. “It needs to be treated.”

Only then did she remember the wound.

“You don’t have to–”

“I don’t repeat myself, Aurora.”

The weight of his words left no room for argument.

Minutes later, a doctor arrived, an older man with a professional demeanor. He worked quickly, disinfecting and wrapping the wound. Aurora sat stiffly, biting her lip as the antiseptic burned her skin.

"You’re lucky," the doctor muttered. "No stitches needed."

Aurora nodded numbly.

Once the doctor left, silence filled the space between them, thick and unbearable.

She slowly stood. “Okay. You brought me here, treated my wound. Now tell me, what do you want from me?”

Grayson’s gray eyes darkened.

“You.”

Aurora’s breath stalled.

His voice was calm, his expression unreadable. Yet the weight of that single word was suffocating.

"You were sold to someone unworthy," he continued. "But now, you belong to me."

Her pulse thundered. "I–I don’t belong to anyone!"

A slow, almost amused smirk tugged at his lips.

"You will."

The finality in his voice sent ice through her veins.

Grayson reached out, his fingers grazing the bandage on her wrist– light, almost possessive.

"Tonight," he murmured, his voice deep, smooth… dangerous.

Aurora’s breath caught. Fear and confusion crashed over her, demanding she run. But something else lurked beneath the terror.

Something far more dangerous.

Because her heart wasn’t racing from fear alone.

It was racing for him.