9. Crashing into him!

Lisa’s POV

It was past 9 pm and I was still sitting at my desk, writing the report like a student who forgot homework until the last minute. That was exactly how it felt. Embarrassing, stressful and humiliating, except instead of a teacher, I had a grown man with a permanent scowl and an unhealthy addiction to power waiting to tear it apart.

I already knew he was not going to use this report. This was not about work. This was about control. He wanted to see how far he could push me before I break. But I refused to give him that satisfaction. He challenged me and now I would finish what I started.

He would get the report tomorrow morning, complete and perfect. 

I learned how to survive the hard way. I learned how to work through hunger, exhaustion and fear. I am not someone who gives up because a man raises his voice or throws a tantrum. 

Louis Wolf picked the wrong woman to play games with.

After hours of writing, my fingers and wrists were aching. It had been years since I wrote anything by hand. Normally my laptop did the job but now it was lying dead somewhere in a trash can because my boss decided that destroying it was a reasonable management method.

I ignored the pain and kept my handwriting neat. If there was even a single messy page, he would rip it apart and tell me to start again just for entertainment. Thankfully, handwriting is one thing I am confident about. People used to mistake my notes for printed text in school. I even won awards for it. At least something from my childhood was useful today.

I was focused when I heard heavy footsteps approaching. Loud. Sharp. Slow. Confident. The kind of footsteps that demand attention.

He was coming out of his cabin.

We were the only two left on the floor. Everyone else had already escaped hours ago. I kept writing and pretended I did not notice him, even though my heartbeat picked up.

If he tries to tear this report before I finish, I might actually commit a crime. And honestly, at this point, prison sounds peaceful.

His large shadow stopped beside my chair. I finally lifted my tired eyes and looked up at him. He was towering over me with that unreadable expression he like to wear when he wants me uncomfortable.

He placed his hand on the desk near the report and leaned down. Close enough for his scent and arrogance to suffocate the air between us.

I blinked at him in exhaustion. I probably looked like a zombie with messy hair and dead eyes.

He smirked.

“Giving up is not that hard.”

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

I wished I could ask him right there.

Why?

Why do you hate me so much?

What did I do?

Why do you want me gone?

Does he know how badly I need this job? Does he know what being jobless feels like? Does he know how it feels when you skip meals because you need to save money? Does he know how it feels to watch your younger brother eat bread while the kids next door enjoy pizza?

No. He does not know. And even if he did, I doubt he would care. Men like Louis Wolf do not have space in their chest for anything soft.

“The report will be on your desk in the morning.”

My voice betrayed me. Tired. Heavy. Strained.

His jaw tightened so sharply I thought he might crack a tooth.

“All the best.”

It was not encouragement. It was a warning. A threat with a layer of mockery underneath.

He walked away without waiting for my response. The moment he disappeared into the hallway, I exhaled shakily and pressed a hand against my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.

I was now officially alone in the entire office.

Hours passed. I kept writing until my vision blurred and my neck hurt from bending. By the time I finished, it felt like every bone in my body was complaining. I placed my head on the desk just for a second. One second to rest.

I did not even realize when I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the office was cold and dark. I checked the time.

Three in the morning.

Perfect. Just perfect!

I grabbed the completed report, shoved it carefully into my bag and hurried toward the exit. The main floor lights were off, and the silence was unnerving. Even the hum of electronics was gone.

I had to walk down with stairs from 20th floor, hoping guard will open the gate from me.

But to my disappointment the guard desk was empty And the main gate was locked.

Of course it was.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

Nothing.

After a minute, a guard finally appeared behind me.

“What are you doing here this late, ma’am?”

He sounded surprised but the way his eyes ran over me made my skin crawl.

“I was working late. Please open the gate.”

I requested.

“The lock is set, ma’am. I cannot open it without permission.”

A migraine started forming behind my forehead.

“So how am I supposed to leave?”

“There is another exit from the parking lot. You can use that.”

Something about the way he said it made me uneasy, but I had no better option. I nodded and followed him toward the elevator which was used by housekeeping staff only.

He pressed the parking button and the doors closed. The quiet space felt suffocating. I could feel his eyes on me again. Like he was studying. Calculating.

He looked old enough to be someone’s father. Yet the expression on his face was anything but protective.

The elevator dinged and I stepped out quickly.

“This way.”

He walked ahead. At first, I followed. Then I noticed the direction.

Not toward the exit but toward a storage area. A dead end. My instincts screamed.

He turned slightly. That look confirmed everything.

I shoved him away and ran.

“Bitch!”

He chased me. His heavy boots echoing behind me. My heels slowed me down so I kicked them off and kept running barefoot.

Suddenly another man appeared from the shadows. Two of them!

My heart jumped into my throat. I dodged the second one but the first grabbed my arm. I slammed my purse across his face and broke free.

The cold concrete burned the bottom of my feet. I kept running. Breathing became painful and panic clawed up my spine.

Then a third man stepped forward and blocked my path. Before I could react, he slapped me hard enough to knock me to the ground.

Pain shot through my knees and elbows as they scraped the rough floor. Tears burned my eyes but I refused to cry.

They surrounded me.

One grabbed my wrists. Another grabbed my hair. The third hovered, breathing disgusting fumes onto my face.

I fought. Scratched. Kicked. Screamed.

“Leave me! You sick animals!”

My voice echoed but there was no help. The one holding me tried to cover my mouth.

My purse had fallen next to me, open. Items scattered everywhere.

If hope had a shape right now, it was a small black cylinder.

Pepper spray!

I grabbed it and sprayed without aiming. Left. Right. Everywhere.

They cursed and backed away, covering their eyes.

I pushed myself up and ran again. I did not know where the exit was. I did not care. I just needed distance.

My lungs burned. My legs shook. Sweat trickled down my spine. Every step felt like my body was tearing apart. But I kept going.

My knees finally gave up and I slowed down. My breathing was sharp and broken. Yet I didn't let tears fall.

I whispered into the darkness with closed eyes.

“Please, God. Send someone to help me.”

When I lifted my head, I froze.

He was there. Louis Wolf!

Standing near his car with my abandoned heel in his hand, staring at me like he just watched a ghost run out of the shadows.

For the first time since I met him, he did not look angry. He looked… shocked.

I did not think. I reacted.

I ran straight to him. My body moved before my brain could question it. Before fear could stop me.

For the first time in my life, I trusted the last person I should.

I reached him and without warning or hesitation, I crashed into him. I grabbed onto him like he was the only solid thing left in a collapsing world.

And he did not push me away.

I buried my shaken body against his chest because right now, standing in his arms felt safer than the entire world.