Williams crouched in the shadows, his chest heaving, his knuckles raw from the fight. Dust still hung in the air from the shattered gate, the acrid tang of gunpowder stinging his nostrils. Through the haze, his eyes locked on the sight that set his blood on fire—Bryce, dragging Elodie by the wrist, her face pale but her gaze still clinging to him as though he were the only lifeline she had left in the world. “Elodie!” The name tore from Williams’ throat before he could stop it. Bryce didn’t flinch. He yanked her harder, pulling her toward the staircase that led deeper into the house. She fought against his hold, but his grip was iron. Williams pushed forward, charging through the chaos of the fight like a bull breaking from its pen. A hulking figure suddenly stepped from the corner, a guard, broad-shouldered, his face twisted with malice. He planted himself between Williams and Bryce like a wall of muscle, swinging a heavy fist. Williams didn’t slow. He ducked under the swi
The men dragged Elodie back toward the house, her body thrashing like a wildcat in their grip. Her fingers clawed desperately at the guard’s pocket, just brushing the edge of the phone again, when a shadow fell across the doorway. “Enough.” The single word froze them all. Bryce stood leaning against the frame of the door, arms folded, a smile tugging at his lips as though he were watching a child’s tantrum rather than a desperate escape attempt. His eyes glittered with quiet amusement as they shoved Elodie forward. “You never change,” he drawled, stepping down toward them. “Always running, always fighting. But this time, Elodie, you won’t get away.” Her chest heaved as she glared at him. “I will never be yours,” she spat, her voice ragged. Bryce only smiled wider. “We’ll see about that.” The guards tightened their grip, preparing to drag her inside. Elodie twisted violently, her heel slamming down on one man’s shin. He cursed, but Bryce raised a hand lazily. “Don’t hur
The room was a cage disguised as paradise. Silk curtains swayed gently in the air-conditioned draft, the chandelier above casting a golden glow over walls dressed in ivory. The bed in the center was draped with rose petals, the sheets pristine and perfumed. To anyone else, it might have looked like a suite designed for romance. To Elodie, it was nothing but a gilded trap. The door opened, and Bryce stepped in. He looked almost casual—shirt unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up—as though this were a simple evening between husband and wife. His smile, though, carried something darker. “Elodie,” he said softly, as if the name itself belonged to him. He gestured to the bed, his voice low with intent. “We don’t need a grand ceremony. We’ve been married before. Tomorrow, we’ll make it official again, just the two of us. But tonight…” His eyes lingered on the petals, on the arrangements he had laid out. “Tonight is ours. I’ve prepared everything for us. Our wedding night.” Her en
The news broke like wildfire. Every channel, every scrolling headline carried the same grim story: Elodie Williams, involved in a fatal crash. Her car collided with a truck, sending her over the bridge. No body recovered. Mandy stared at the screen, her heart hammering. The footage of the twisted wreckage seared itself into her mind. Her mouth went dry, her breath caught in her throat, and before she realized what she was doing, she was already running down the hallway toward her father’s study. “Dad!” she burst in, her voice shrill, panicked. “Did you do this?” Greg looked up from behind his mahogany desk, his expression maddeningly calm. He folded his hands, leaning back in his chair like a king fielding the cries of a servant. “Mandy,” he said smoothly, “sit down.” She shook her head, trembling. “No, I need to hear it from you. Did you...” her voice cracked, “did you arrange that accident?” He let out a low chuckle, though his eyes carried a flicker of annoyance. “Do you
Williams paced the edge of the bridge like a man possessed, his eyes locked on the dark water below where divers kept plunging in and resurfacing with empty hands. Each splash, each shake of a helmet, carved another wound into his chest. Hours passed...five long, punishing hours..and still nothing. The night grew colder, yet the answer never came. Finally, the leader of the divers approached him, face grim. “Sir, we’ve done all we can. If she was here, we’d have found her by now. The current must have carried the body elsewhere.” The word body tore through him like a blade. Williams’ voice broke into a hoarse roar. “No! Keep searching! She’s not gone, do you hear me? She can’t be gone!” His orders cracked against the night air, but the men only shook their heads. “If she had fallen here, she would have surfaced already,” the leader said quietly. “We’ll return at first light. But tonight… there’s nothing more we can do.” Williams staggered back, his throat tight, his eyes b
Williams had not driven this particular car in months. It was his least favorite in the collection, sleek but temperamental, the kind of machine he only touched when the occasion was dire. Tonight, desperation put him behind its wheel. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly the leather creaked, his heart pounding like a war drum against his ribs. Every red light mocked him, every passing car blurred into irrelevance. His mind clung to only one name, one thought, one fear: Elodie. When he finally skidded to a stop at the bridge, the world tilted around him. Blue and red lights flared in the night like restless ghosts. The screech of radios, the mutter of bystanders, the heavy stench of burned rubber and metal filled the air. There it was...his car, the one Elodie had stormed off with, its front end crushed, metal twisted into grotesque shapes as though the machine itself had screamed in pain. Beside it, the hulking truck that had definitely struck his car loomed lik