Chapter 21 – The Breaking Point

Emery's POV

They tossed me into the van just as they would have tossed a bag of grain. No care. 

My body, my fragile body clashed into the mental structure of the van. I felt a sharp piercing at the back of my neck making me look conscious. 

As my eyes lost their light, the last thing I saw was Julian' face, staring back at me, his face composed. Calm as if he hadn't done any grave harm on me like he had done nothing and everything was fine.

 Oh, my,

I had been warned, Killian had told me not to trust his calm face but then I didn't listen. 

 I didn't know how long my eyes had lost their light, but when I regained consciousness, all I knew was that I was moving.

 At first I wasn't able to recognize what it was that was moving but my memory gave me a flashback of how I was abducted by Julian

My vision was still blur and the world began to return in fragment like broken glasses trying to make itself whole

my senses returned, I felt everything in heightened mode.

 The cold sting from the metal cuffs that was used to bind my wrist together right behind my back. 

I felt it

 The leather seat that was soaked by water yet undried that created a musty odour and made it difficult to breath in fresh air.

I felt it

The dull pounding of my heart pounding right behind my temple.

I felt it

The sweat dripping down from my chin, I felt it 

my uncomfortable lying posture that has made my limb ache.

I familiarized myself with the environment, changed my lying posture to sitting, I didn't want get stiffened before my abductor came to get me 

I sat in silence, seconds turned to minutes then to hours— I counted.

 I didn't see Julian's face. He wasn't there. Neither were the men who had tossed me just as they would toss a bag of grain.

 I was alone… or so I thought 

I wasn't.

In silence, I heard a clicking sound, I followed the clicking sound and I saw it just at the right top corner of the van, there was a red dot blinking at regular intervals.

It was a camera 

one used to capture my every movement. They were watching. Waiting. Looking for a reaction, one to feed their amusement. Their excitement.

I stared at it for a long time, willing myself not to cry, not to scream, not to shatter.

They wanted something. A reaction. A weakness. A bargaining chip.

I gave them none.

I didn't…I didn't know how much time passed before they finally stopped the moving van

When the van door finally opened I was already on my feet, spine straight, my shoulder held up high like nothing had happened trying to preserve my pride. My dignity. 

Trying to show I was strong, like I wasn't breaking, tearing apart from within. 

That I wasn't broken within into millions of pieces just to be glued up back on the surface — by me

Their face came into view. Those two men in black, the ones that held no regard for a lady. They motioned for me to step out of the van

 I didn't let them touch me 

I wasn't going to let them 

I jumped down from the van my boots hit against the gravel.

I tried to stable my stands, trying as much as possible not to fall while my wrist was still binded by the metal cuff.

It was midnight, with thick grey fogs that made it hard to scan the environment — but the silhouetted shape of a gate sat not too far away

The more we walked, the more I saw. The gate came into view

 It was a large wrought iron gate slightly ajar from the other, rusted in place with little black spot here and there. There were vines that had crawled their way up to the very top of the gate. 

The vine had claimed the gate like they belonged there

 We walked through the slightly ajar gate

Beyond the gate stood an old abandoned castle-like structure with tall weathered stone walls with dark grey and patches of moss

No words was exchanged

Just the low hum of distant voices and the tick of a grandfather clock echoing in the vast, empty foyer.

I was shown to a room. Left alone again.

The door locked behind me with a heavy finality.

There were no windows. Just a narrow skylight and a bed that looked too small to sleep in.

They didn’t touch me.

Didn’t question me.

Which meant they were waiting.

For Killian.

Or maybe for me to break.

hours passed or maybe even days I couldn't tell. I had been locked up in the room for so long. I wasn't able to tell day from night.

 Food will often come and go on a regular interval. Each time was a new face and they would always give me the cold shoulder not trying to make small talks with me. 

I had tried to occasionally talk with whoever brings the food, but the were always mute. 

Like it was a crime to speak to me — death by hanging

 Which made it hard to make a friend

 This was only a gesture that was given to show hostility 

And they were doing it dem right

Eventually, the door opened — and there he was.

Killian standing at the door that had been shot for so long 

His white sleeve was missing about two to three button. His usual black tie that sit neatly on him was no where to be found.

And his collar had some stain of blood with a little tear on his forehead that said a battle had gone down.

His breathing was heavy, some strands of his hair had fallen across his face. His eyes carried a fury that was consuming — consuming me not with fire, but with something colder, tighter. It coiled around my lungs and refused to let go.

 It made it hard for me to breathe. I gasped, air catching in my throat.

My knees gave out, turned weak under the weight of his stare. 

There was a fire burning behind his eyes that made the whole world narrow — until all I could see was him, and what he might do next

“You are okay,” he rasped, stepping inside like he couldn’t believe I was real.

“I’m not,” I whispered.

And I meant it.

He rushed forward, grabbed my face, and scanned me for wounds.

I didn’t stop him.

But I didn’t return the touch, either.

“You’re not hurt?” he asked, frantic.

“Not physically.”

it seemed my words had struck a nerve.

He stiffened — like something inside him clenched shut.

I had seen it — in the way his eyes, which had lit up the moment he saw me, suddenly dimmed.

His hands stilled mid-motion, fingers hovering, then he pulled away like they had touched fire. Even though he resumed almost instantly, I had already felt the shift.

His breath catch beneath my fingers. I could feel his heartbeat through the connection of our skin as it skipped a bit

“They were going to use you against me,” he said, voice like broken glass. “They were going to make you doubt me. Twist everything I built between us.”

“You don't get it, do you?” I asked.

I pulled away. “They didn’t need to twist anything. You already did that.”

His breath hitched. He took a step back like I had slapped him.

“I have spent every second since you disappeared tearing the city apart,” he said. “I’ve threatened people I used to trust. Paid for silence. Paid for answers.”

“But you still won’t give me the truth.”

He flinched.

I crossed my arms, teeth clenched to stop the shaking. “You manipulate everything, Killian. My safety. My emotions. The way I see the world. You want to protect me, but you treat me like I’m made of glass — something to lock away. You say it’s love, but it feels like a cage.”

His jaw clenched. “Would you rather I left you exposed? Let them take you again?”

“No,” I said, then softer, “I want to be trusted. I want to fight back. With you. Not behind you.”

He stared at me like I had cracked something open in him.

But it wasn’t enough. It had never been

 because the next moment, his expression hardened.

That cold businesslike mask slid into place like armor — swift, practiced, and cruel. Like feeling anything for me threatened everything he had built

Even the idea of being connected to me was too dangerous to allow.

He was doing it again, hiding. Hiding behind control — his eyes shuttered. His jaw locked tight, like a door I wasn’t meant to open 

I wouldn’t flinch. I wouldn’t let him see me break.

But I didn't know how long I could hold out. Control was slipping through my fingers faster than I could catch it.

“Then we do it my way.”

My heart sank. “You mean your control. Your secrets.”

“My strategy,” he said quietly. “I’m not losing you because of your pride.”

I stepped toward him, fury flooding my chest. “And I’m not losing myself to your control.”

The space between us ignited like gasoline on flame.

Then — in a blink — his hands were on my face again, lips crashing into mine, breath hot, desperate, like he needed to tether himself to me or he’d fly apart.

I kissed him back. I shouldn’t have, but I did. Because he still tasted like safety and danger all wrapped in one impossible man and I had given up my control of him — I knew but refused to acknowledge it out loud.

But when I pulled away, I could feel the tear in my chest widen.

“This… this isn’t fixing anything.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But it’s the only thing that still feels real.”

He turned from me, running a hand through his hair, eyes dark and wild. “They’re closing in. Crest has allies. Politicians. CEOs. The media. There’s something bigger at play, and you’re in the middle of it because of me.”

“And now you’re trying to push me away again?”

“I’m trying to keep you alive, Emery.”

“Even if it kills us?” I asked

Safe. 

That’s all he ever talks about.

But he never asks how his version of safety feels to me — how it hurts.

He says he wants to keep me safe, but all he does is push me further away.”

He’s always talking about keeping me safe, but every time he tries I feel more alone. Like I’m some delicate thing he can lock away — without asking if I want to be saved at all.

How do I explain this? 

How do I scream it out when I'm not being heard — not by him

He looked at me then — really looked — and the pain in his eyes felt like a mirror.

“I’ll burn everything down if it means keeping you breathing.”

And that terrified me.

Because I believed him.

Later that night, after too many unanswered questions and one too many silences that spoke louder than words, I slipped out of the room.

The estate had long corridors, cold stone floors, and security stationed at every turn. But I moved quietly. I listened.

And eventually, I heard him.

Killian. In a side room.

Talking on the phone. His voice low. Lethal.

“She’s becoming too curious. If she finds out the truth, I won’t be able to control what happens next.”

I froze behind the door. My pulse spiked.

“I told you — I’ll handle her. But if Crest leaks that file, I need leverage.”

A pause.

Then:

“Yes. Even if she hates me for it.”

My heart cracked.

He was planning something. Again.

Something I wasn’t meant to know. Or survive.

I backed away slowly, hands trembling.

His enemy might’ve taken me once.

But I wasn’t sure which man was truly more dangerous anymore.

And the worst part?

I still loved him.

Still burned for him.

Still wanted to save him.

Even if it destroyed me.