TASTE OF FREEDOM

Aria didn’t wait for permission this time. Days in Luca’s glass penthouse had turned every wall into a mirror of her own cage. But there was still a world outside one he couldn’t control every second of every day.

He’d left early, a curt note beside her untouched breakfast: Meeting. Don’t leave. She stared at the neat handwriting until the words blurred, then stuffed it in her pocket like a challenge.

Maria was gone. The guards at her door only nodded as she passed, polite but expressionless. Maybe they thought she was too meek to try. Or too smart.

She pulled her hood low, walked into the elevator, and braced herself. The doors closed without interruption. No hand is dragging her back. No voice in her ear: Not so fast, sweetheart.

When the lobby doors opened, the city air slammed into her like a slap. She almost laughed, diesel, food trucks, wet pavement, life.

She walked for blocks with no plan. No bag, no money, just a crumpled bill in her pocket. It didn’t matter. Each step away from him felt like oxygen.

A kid shoved a flyer into her hand: University Registration Now Open. Her chest twisted. She hadn’t even dropped out properly; she’d just disappeared. Did her professors wonder? Her roommate? Her parents?

She ducked into a small park, the flyer heavy in her lap. Maybe she could fight him for something. Anything.

Her phone buzzed, the burner Luca had given her, stripped down to two numbers. The screen lit up: Cross.

He knew. Of course, he knew.

She powered it off and tossed it into a trash can, then kept walking.

An hour later, she stood outside her old library. Students milled around inside, coffee balanced on textbooks, laughter echoing between the stacks.

She pressed her hand to the glass. Her throat burned. She missed it so much it hurt.

“Need help, miss?” a campus guard asked.

“I used to go here. I just wanted to see it again.”

He softened. “No trouble, okay? Can’t let you in without ID.”

She nodded, turning away, chest tight. Freedom was a ghost she could almost touch until reality pulled it back.

Snow began to fall. She had no gloves. Her coat was thin. She was trembling when she saw it: a black town car idling by the curb.

Luca stepped out. No coat. Sleeves rolled. Snow melting in his hair. Fury in every line of him.

“Aria.”

She froze. To strangers, he looked like a man scolding his girlfriend. They couldn’t see the cage behind his eyes.

“Get in the car,” he said.

She hugged her arms to her chest. “No.”

“I’m not asking.”

“What are you going to do? Drag me by the hair?”

He closed the distance, hands cupping her face, cold, burning. His voice was a hiss.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? Running like this. Where were you going? Back to your dorm? Back to nothing?”

“Back to my life,” she shot back.

“Before me, you were drowning.” His thumb dragged across her cheek, a promise and a threat in one.

She shoved him. “I’d rather drown than live like this.”

His eyes darkened. “You really believe that?”

“I want to see my parents. I want my own money. I want school. A life that’s not just you.”

For a heartbeat, she saw the crack in him, a storm under control. His nose brushed hers, his words a whisper.

“Then run. But when you come crawling back, I’ll remind you who you belong to.”

His mouth crashed onto hers. Cold,  Angry, and  Desperate. She hated how her knees buckled, hated how she kissed him back.

When he pulled away, his eyes lingered on her mouth… then dropped to her stomach, his child, his leverage.

“Test me all you want,” he murmured. “You’ll always come back.”

She stumbled away. A bus pulled up a miracle, or fate. She climbed on without looking back, but she felt his eyes burning into her as the doors hissed shut.

For an hour, she rode, city blocks crawling past. She ended up in a battered café near campus, hands wrapped around a cup of tea she barely tasted. She thought of her parents. Her degree. The contract. The child inside her. And the way Luca’s kiss still burned.

She left into the snow, coat pulled tight, trying to pretend she was just another girl. But she knew he’d find her. He always did.

One block later, he was there. Leaning against his car, arms crossed, breath misting in the air. No coat, as if the cold dared not touch him.

He opened the passenger door. “Done testing me yet?”

She shook, teeth chattering, and hating him and wanting him.

And climbed in.

Back at the penthouse, she stormed into the bedroom, shoved the dresser against the door, and collapsed against it.

On the other side, his voice was steady. “You can lock me out. But you’re still mine, Aria. Every piece of you.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. She whispered to the empty room, “What happens when I don’t want to come back?”

Silence. Then his voice, cracked and dark.

“Then I’ll come get you. Every time.”

Her hand trembled against the door. Some debts weren’t paid in money. Some hearts carried prices no one else could see.