CHAPTER 17:No Exit

DAMIAN

The boardroom was dim, quiet, and soaked in tension the kind I thrived in. My men sat in a straight line across the polished table, each one focused, each one knowing what was at stake. I was mid-sentence, laying down strategy, when a figure leaned close to my chair.

““Sir… a waitress. She says she has something to tell you.”

My jaw ticked.

A waitress interrupting my meeting? Bold.

“And what exactly does she want?” I asked coldly, eyes still fixed on the table before me.

“It’s about your woman,” he replied.

My gaze sharpened, and silence rippled through the room like a knife cutting water. I gave a slow, dangerous smirk. Isa. Of course.

“Send her in,” I said.

Moments later, the door creaked open like a spine bending under pressure.

The waitress stepped in young, barely more than a girl, shoulders hunched like she could fold into herself and disappear. Her hands fisted the hem of her skirt so tightly, the fabric trembled with her. Her lips parted, but the words got stuck behind her teeth.

I didn’t stand.

Didn’t blink.

“Speak,” I said each syllable clipped, cold, sharp enough to wound.

“She… she asked me to help her,” she breathed, voice barely louder than the hum of the air conditioner. “Said she needed… a way out.”

A laugh peeled out of me, low and bitter. It echoed too loud in the stillness, jagged at the edges.

So that’s what Isa thought this was?

A cage she could unlock with trembling hands and borrowed courage?

She really believed she could run from me?

Foolish, foolish girl.

I leaned back, fingers steepled beneath my chin as I imagined her sprinting into the arms of some faceless authority, pleading for rescue like I hadn’t already bought their loyalty a hundred times over.

Justice? In my world?

She didn’t know the half of it. Couldn’t begin to guess how many badges bowed to me, how many surveillance feeds were mine to edit, erase, or twist.

This wasn’t rebellion.

It was a mistake.

“She’ll be brought back,” I muttered, not caring if the waitress heard.

I could feel her stare wide-eyed, white-knuckled fear clinging to her like a second skin. She had no idea what she’d stepped into. What she’d agreed to, even by speaking Isabella’s name.

“And where the hell is Richard?” I snapped, jaw tightening.

I’d left her in his care. One job. Watch her. Guard her. And now the girl had slipped through cracks I hadn’t even seen forming.

I stood, smoothing my jacket with slow, deliberate hands. The room stilled around me.

“Meeting’s over.”

No one questioned it. No one dared. Chairs scraped back, papers rustled, and my men filed out in silence like obedient shadows. Only one stayed behind, posted by the door. The waitress flinched when I looked her way.

“Bring her.”

We moved to the elevator in silence. But inside, I was storming.

So she wanted to test my patience? Let her.

She was mine. Not because I said so. Because I knew her. Every tremble. Every fire. Every lie.

And I would unravel her, thread by thread.

The elevator doors parted with a hiss.

And there she was.

Isa sat at the bar, legs crossed, shoulders squared like she wasn’t about to bolt. But her fingers told the truth clenched, twitching in her lap. Her jaw, too tight. Her breath, too shallow.

She hadn’t seen me yet.

Until she did.

Her head turned. Her eyes met mine.

And she froze.

Color drained from her face like a film reel gone pale. Her eyes flicked to the waitress beside me, betrayal blooming fast and raw.

Her lips parted. But nothing came out.

I let her see the disappointment in my eyes.

Let her feel it.

“Planning to run, little princess?” My voice was soft, nearly a whisper but the steel beneath it rang like a blade drawn from its sheath.

She recoiled, just slightly, like the sound had cut her.

She opened her mouth again. Still no words. Only that hollowed, broken look the one that always made my chest twist in ways I hated.

She saw me as a monster.

But she didn’t understand I wasn’t the villain in her story.

I was the one writing it.

“Do you think any of my people would betray me?” I asked, calm and quiet.

She didn’t answer.

Smart girl.

But not smart enough.

From behind the bar, the restroom door opened. Richard emerged, dabbing his hands with a towel like this wasn’t his last day walking without a limp.

My eye twitched.

One minute. One goddamn minute of negligence.

I would remember this.

He hurried forward, already stammering. “Boss, I didn’t know”

A look silenced him. He backed off like he’d been slapped.

I turned back to her.

Reached out a hand.

Mocking softness. A gentleman’s gesture dipped in poison.

“Come.”

She sat still.

“No.” Just one word. Small. Defiant. Fragile. But there.

I dropped the smile.

Her chin trembled but rose. A desperate attempt at pride. Her eyes glittered not with courage, but terror wrapped in a glassy sheen.

I leaned closer, my voice cold and final.

“Wrong answer, Isa.”

She didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

I gave her the last thread of mercy.

She burned it.

“You asked for this.”

I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.

“Take her.”

Two guards closed in. She sprang up too late. Their hands locked around her arms as she screamed, fought, kicked like a trapped animal.

“Let me go! You can’t do this! Where are you taking me?!”

But no one looked.

Heads turned down. Music hummed louder. The club knew the rules. When I moved, the world stayed still.

She was dragged across the floor, her heels screeching in protest.

I followed. Each step a quiet promise.

“You’ll find out soon, little princess,” I whispered, just for her.

You’ll learn the hard way:

You don’t leave me.

You belong to me.

In this life.

And every one after.

***************

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hey lovely readers! 💖

Sometimes the ones we try to escape the most are the ones who believe they own us. What did you think of Isa’s attempt to run? I’d really love to hear your thoughts! Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe it means so much to me and keeps me going. Thanks for reading! 🥰