Chapter 8- No More Running

Elara turned around slowly.

Sebastian Vale stood in the doorway of the tiny hostel room like he owned it.

Like he owned everything.

Dressed entirely in black, hands relaxed at his sides, dark eyes locked on her with an intensity that made the air feel thinner. He wasn't even breathing hard. Wasn't disheveled from travel or rushed from the chase.

He looked like he had simply decided to be here.

And so here he was.

“How…” Her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. “How did you get in here? This is a women's dorm.”

Sebastian's mouth curved at the corner. “The clerk downstairs was very accommodating.”

“You bribed him.”

“Money solves most problems.” He stepped into the room, casual, unhurried, and closed the door behind him. “You should know that better than anyone.”

The words landed like a slap.

Elara stood abruptly from the bunk, putting distance between them. Her back hit the wall. Nowhere left to retreat.

“Get out,” she said.

“No.”

“I'll scream.”

“You won't.”  His gaze was steady, reading her like a document he'd already memorized. “Because you don't want anyone asking questions about why you're here. You don't want anyone knowing your name.”

He was right.

He was infuriatingly, devastatingly right.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “What do you want?”

Sebastian tilted his head slightly. Something in his expression shifted, something she couldn't name.

“That's the question, isn't it,” he said quietly.

He moved closer.

Slow. Deliberate. The way a man moved when he had already decided the outcome of a situation and was simply waiting for everyone else to catch up. 

Elara pressed her palms flat against the wall behind her and lifted her chin. “Don't come any closer.”

He stopped. Three feet away. Close enough that she could smell his cologne, dark and expensive, close enough that she could see the faint tension in his jaw that his expression was working hard to hide.

“You withdrew cash at 6:47 this morning,” Sebastian said. “One suitcase. No phone activity until the bus was already moving.” His eyes moved over her face, slow and thorough. “You planned this.”

“Obviously.”

“It didn't work.”

“Obviously,” she repeated, and her voice came out steadier than she felt.

Something flickered in his eyes. Appreciation, maybe. Or something she was too smart to call that.

“Elara.’ He said her name differently than everyone else. Heavier. Like it meant something.  Is the baby mine?”

The question dropped into the silence like a stone into still water.

She held his gaze. *I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't do that.” His voice sharpened, “Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not…”

“Your hand,” he said quietly.

Elara looked down.

Her right hand had moved to her stomach without her realizing. Pressed flat. Protective.

She yanked it away.

But it was too late.

Sebastian exhaled slowly through his nose. Something crossed his face that she had never expected to see there.

Not anger.

Not possessiveness.

Fear.

Raw, unguarded, completely human fear.

It was gone in an instant, locked back behind the wall he kept so carefully maintained. But she had seen it. One unguarded second that changed something fundamental between them.

“How far along?” he asked quietly.

Elara said nothing.

“Elara.”

“Eight weeks,” she whispered. And then hated herself for answering.

Sebastian closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, they were darker than before.

“Why did you run?” he asked. “You had the money. You could have…”

“What?” she interrupted, something snapping inside her chest. “What exactly could I have done, Sebastian? Stayed in New York where everyone was watching me? Waited for you to show up and take control of my life again?” Her voice was rising and she couldn't stop it. “You bought me for one night. That's all. One night. You don't get to follow me across state lines and stand in my room and demand answers like you own me.*

“I know I don't own you.”

“Do you?” She stepped forward, fury finally overriding fear. “Because this…” She gestured at the room, at him, at everything. “This is not what someone does when they think they don't own someone!”

Sebastian was quiet for a moment.

“You're right.”

Elara blinked. “What?”

“You're right,”  he repeated, without flinching. “I handled this wrong. I should have called instead of showing up. I should have…” He paused, jaw working. “I don't do this well. Any of this.”

She stared at him.

Sebastian Vale admitting he was wrong felt like watching a mountain apologize for being in the way.

“Then why are you here?” she asked, quieter now.

“Because Cassandra knows about you.” His voice changed, dropping lower. “She knows you're pregnant. She has investigators, Elara. People who aren't careful about how they get information or what they do with it.”

The name sent ice through her veins.

“Who is she and what does she want?” Elara whispered.

Sebastian went quiet immediately.

“She is my ex and she wants to use you against me.” Sebastian's expression hardened. “She already tried to bribe your doctor. Marco found out and stopped it.”

Elara's stomach dropped. “She tried to…”

“Interfere with your pregnancy,” Sebastian said flatly. “Yes.”

The room tilted.

Elara pressed her hand to her stomach again, instinct overriding everything. The blood drained from her face.

Sebastian watched her, something fierce moving through his expression.

“That's why I'm here,” he said quietly. “Not to control you. Not to own you.” He paused. “To keep you alive.”

Elara couldn't speak.

Her mind was racing, she felt fear and fury together until she couldn't separate them.

Someone had tried to hurt her baby.

Her baby.

“Come back to New York,” Sebastian said. “Stay at my penthouse. You'll have your own room, your own space. My security team will make sure Cassandra can't get near you.”

“And what do you get out of it?” Elara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian's jaw tightened. He looked away from her for a moment, at the bunk beds, the cramped walls, the mildewed ceiling.

Then he looked back.

“I get to know you're safe,” he said simply.

It was the wrong answer.

Or maybe it was exactly the right one.

Because Elara had been waiting for him to say something selfish. Something transactional. Something that would make it easy to say no and mean it.

Instead he'd said I get to know you're safe.

Like that was enough.

Like that was the whole point.

She exhaled slowly. “If I come back…”

“Yes?”

“My terms,” she said, lifting her chin. “I'm not your prisoner. I leave if I want to. No guards following me everywhere. Not controlling what I eat or where I go or who I talk to.”

Sebastian's expression shifted. “Within reason…”

“No.” Her voice was firm. “My terms. Yes or no.”

A long pause.

“Yes,” he said finally.

“And you tell me the truth,” Elara continued. “About Cassandra. About whatever she's planning. I don't get kept in the dark while people make decisions about my life.”

“Agreed.”

“And…” She took a breath. “And this baby is mine. Whatever happens between us, whatever you decide you want or don't want, this baby is mine first. Always.”

Something moved through Sebastian's expression.

Something that looked almost like pain.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Elara searched his face.

She should say no.

Every rational thought she had said no.

But her baby had almost been hurt.

And the only person who'd stopped it was standing right in front of her.

“Okay,” she said finally. *I'll come back.”

Sebastian exhaled. A small sound, almost invisible.

“My car is downstairs,” he said. “We can leave now.”

Elara looked around the tiny dorm room. The sagging bunk. The mildewed walls. The brass key on the nightstand.

She picked up her suitcase.

“Don't think this means I trust you,” she said, looking at him.

Sebastian's mouth curved. Barely. Almost not at all.

“I know,” he said.

“And don't think this means anything other than what it is.” She moved toward the door. “A temporary arrangement.”

“Of course.”

She brushed past him in the narrow doorway.

His hand caught hers.

Just for a second.

Warm fingers closing around hers with a gentleness that didn't belong to the man she thought he was.

“Elara.”

She stopped. Didn't turn around.

“I'm sorry,” Sebastian said quietly. “About your mother. I should have said that sooner.”

Her throat tightened painfully.

She didn't answer.

But she didn't pull her hand away either.

Not for a long moment.

Then she stepped into the hallway, suitcase in hand, and walked toward the stairs without looking back.

Behind her, she heard Sebastian follow.

And for the first time since the night that had destroyed everything, Elara Moore didn't feel entirely alone.

She wasn't sure if that made things better.

Or infinitely more dangerous.