LOGINThe elevator doors slid shut with a soft hiss.Brianna stood beside Dawson, her hand still in his, her heart pounding so loud she was certain he could hear it. The elevator was small, the walls mirrored, the light harsh and unforgiving. She could see their reflections in the polished metal. His face was hard, his jaw tight. Her own face was pale, her eyes wide.Neither of them spoke.The numbers on the panel climbed slowly. Three. Four. Five. Each floor seemed to take an eternity. She could feel the tension radiating from him, the way his fingers were still tight around hers, the way his breathing was shallow and controlled.She wanted to say something. To break the silence. To ask him what he was thinking, what he was planning, what had happened to the man who had held her in the cabin and whispered that he loved her.But the words would not come.The elevator stopped. The doors opened onto the parking garage. Cold air rushed in, carrying the smell of concrete and exhaust. He pulled
The drive to the city was long.Brianna sat in the passenger seat, watching the landscape change from mountains to hills to the flat sprawl of the suburbs. Dawson drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her knee. He had not let go of her since they left the cabin.Francesca had arranged everything. A hotel room. A press conference. A statement that would tell the world she was not a victim, that she was with Dawson willingly, that Eric's claims were lies.Brianna had rehearsed the words in her head a hundred times. She knew what to say. She knew how to say it.But her hands were still shaking.Dawson glanced at her."Are you okay?""I will be."He squeezed her knee."Eric is going to be there. Watching. He won't try anything in public, but he'll be there.""I know.""If he comes near you—""Then we deal with it."He was quiet for a moment."Eric will never touch you. That's not a promise. It's a fact."She looked at his face. His jaw was tight. His eyes were hard."I kn
Morning light crept through the cabin windows, pale and soft.Brianna opened her eyes slowly. The fire had burned down to embers. The room was warm, quiet. She was still in Dawson's arms, his chest against her back, his breath slow and even against her hair.She did not move. She wanted to stay here, in this moment, where the world outside did not exist. Where there was no Eric, no Declan, no list, no fear.But the light was growing stronger. The day was coming.She turned her head.He was awake.His eyes were open, watching her. There was no mask. No ice. Just raw, unfiltered emotion. Love. Fear. Hope. Desperation. All of it there, written on his face like she had never seen before.Her breath caught."Dawson."He did not speak. He just looked at her, like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing.Then his eyes changed.The mask slammed down. The ice returned. He pulled back, sat up, ran his hands through his hair."I'm sorry," he said. His voice was flat. "I didn't mean to w
The fire crackled low in the hearth.Brianna lay on the bed, her breathing slow and even, her face peaceful in the warm glow. The exhaustion had finally claimed her. She had not stirred since Dawson laid her down.He stood over her.His hand reached out. His fingers hovered inches from her face. He could feel the warmth of her skin without touching it. He could see the faint pulse at her throat.He wanted to touch her. Wanted to feel her skin beneath his fingers. Wanted to reassure himself that she was real, that she was here, that he had not lost her.But he stopped.His hand hung in the air, suspended between wanting and fear.What if he woke her? What if she looked at him with those eyes, the ones that had seen his scars, his lies, his weakness? What if she saw the monster he was still trying not to become?He pulled his hand back.He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her, his head in his hands.She stirred."Dawson?"He turned. Her eyes were open, sleepy, soft."Go back to s
The study was cold.Brianna had been sitting in the chair by the window for hours. The sun had climbed and fallen. The shadows had lengthened. No one had come for her. No one had brought food or water or news.Declan had left her here to rot.She pressed her forehead against the glass. The garden was empty. The trees were still. There was no sign of Dawson. No sign of anyone.Her eyes burned. Her body ached. The exhaustion she had been holding off for days finally caught up with her.She curled up on the small couch near the fireplace. The cushions were dusty. The fabric was rough against her cheek. She closed her eyes.Just for a moment.The window was open when she woke.She sat up fast. Her heart was pounding. The room was dark. The fire had gone out. The only light came from the moon.She looked at the window. It was open. She had not opened it.A shadow moved near the door.She opened her mouth to scream.A hand covered her mouth. Warm. Calloused. Familiar."Shh."Dawson.Her bod
The garden was quiet.Brianna stood beside Dawson, their hands still linked, the morning light spreading across the grass. The folder was tucked under his arm. The truth was finally in their hands.Then the door behind them slammed open.Declan stood in the doorway. His face was red. His hands were shaking. He looked at them, at their linked hands, at the folder under Dawson's arm."You think you can just walk away? With everything?"Dawson turned. "We're not walking away. We're fighting."Declan laughed. It was a sharp, bitter sound."Fighting? You don't know what fighting is. You've never had to fight for anything. Everything was given to you. The house. The money. The company. And now you want to destroy it all for a girl.""She's not a girl. She's the woman I love."Declan stepped forward. His face was inches from Dawson's."You don't love her. You're obsessed with her. There's a difference."Dawson did not step back."I know the difference."Declan looked at Brianna. His eyes wer
The note was still in her hand when they heard it.A sound in the distance. Low at first, then growing. Sirens.Dawson moved to the window. He looked down at the driveway, the gates, the road beyond."Police."Brianna's blood went cold. "Eric called them.""Or my father." He turned. "Either way, we
The car rolled through the Italian border before dawn.Brianna sat with her back against the passenger door, as far from Dawson as the seat allowed. The folder was on her lap, the full list of names pressed between the cardboard covers. She had not opened it again. She did not need to. Every name w
The plan came together over wine and bread.Francesca spread a map across the kitchen table. Her finger traced the road to Eric's villa outside Milan. "He has security. Cameras. Men at the gates. Inside, a private system. But there's a gap." She tapped a spot near the back wall. "The garden. Old en
The rain had stopped by afternoon.Dawson made calls. Brianna sat on the couch, watching him pace, listening to fragments of conversation. Viktor. Payment. Tonight. She picked up the folder Marco had given them, read the names again. Her mother's name. Carlo's name. Men she did not know. Women. Law







