12. Run like a woman

[Layla’s POV]

The first thing I felt was pain.

A dull ache that spread from my arms to my legs, like I’d been torn apart and stitched back together too quickly. My throat burned, dry and raw, as if every scream I’d swallowed still clung there.

I tried to move, but my hand wouldn’t budge.

That was when I saw him.

Xavier.

His head rested against the edge of my bed, my hand cradled in his palm like something too fragile to let go. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, his tie long gone. The man who always carried himself like steel—sharp suits, polished shoes, the faint scent of cedarwood trailing wherever he went—was nowhere to be found.

Instead, there was this man. Exhausted. Worn. Dark circles carved beneath his closed eyes, his features softer in sleep, but heavy with worry even then.

My chest tightened. I’d never seen Xavier like this before.

Careful not to wake him, I let my eyes wander, and that was when I noticed it.

The ring.

On my finger. Again.

The same ring I had left behind in his hand before I walked away. Before I thought I could abandon him. Abandon this… whatever this was between us. My stomach churned, my heart stumbling against my ribs as memories crashed down.

The tuck shop.

The one place Yuri and I had always gone when the world was too heavy. Noodles so spicy they made others cry, but to us, they tasted like home. I had gone there that night, searching for comfort, trying to drown in memories sweeter than reality.

But instead, a man slid into the seat across from me. Cold metal pressed against my neck—a gun. He took my phone, his voice low and cruel, ordering me to move.

I had run. God, I had run. Through alleys, through the rain, hiding in an abandoned street for hours—ten, maybe more. The shadows became my only company, my lungs aching with each shallow breath. When I finally found a landline, my shaking fingers dialed the only number my heart knew.

“Xav-ier?” My own voice haunted me. Broken. Begging.

And then they found me again.

I could still feel their hands. The grip on my arms, the way my feet screamed as my heels broke and my bare skin tore on gravel. Their touch burned on me even now, though I knew I was safe. Men who smelled of smoke and sweat, cornering me until my screams tore the night.

And just when I thought it was over—two strangers had appeared. They fought for me, ripped me from that nightmare. My memory blurred after that. Pain. Darkness. The weight of not being able to breathe.

“Layla.”

My eyes snapped open.

Xavier’s voice. Rough, but laced with something I had never heard from him before. My gaze found his—his sharp eyes softened, glassy as if he had been waiting for this moment, terrified it would never come.

And before I could think, before I could stop myself, I broke.

“Xavier!” My voice cracked as I threw myself into his arms. My body trembled, my tears soaking into his chest.

“Shh,” he whispered, holding me tight, his hand cupping the back of my head. “I’m here. I’m here, Layla. You’re safe. I’m sorry for letting you wander. I’m sorry for not protecting you.” His voice wavered, barely audible, but steady enough to anchor me. “I’m here. You’re safe, okay, baby?”

I sobbed harder, clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me alive. “P-please don’t leave me,” I breathed between ragged cries, my voice no louder than a child’s plea.

His arms wrapped around me tighter, his chest rising and falling against my cheek. “Layla…” His lips pressed against my hair, his voice breaking against the weight of his promise. “I would never. I would never, okay? I. Would. Never.”

And in that moment, for the first time since the night turned into hell, I believed him.