All Chapters of The Alias of Mrs. Vale: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

I didn’t think. I just ran.The hallway blurred around me as my bare feet hit the cold floor. Behind me, I heard him shout something, but adrenaline drowned everything out. I bolted for the stairwell, skipping the elevator entirely. My heart pounded so loud it felt like it was trying to escape my chest.The moment I reached the stairs, a hand grabbed my arm. I screamed, twisting hard, but he was faster—stronger. His grip burned against my skin.“Let go!” I yelled, jerking away.“Stop moving,” he said, voice low, urgent. “If you want to live, you’ll listen.”That made me freeze.He looked at me—sharp eyes, expression tight, like someone who didn’t have time for questions. His other hand reached into his coat, and I took a step back, panic flaring again.“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t hurt me. I don’t know who you are.”He pulled something out—a badge. Not police. Something else. Dark metal, no words, just a symbol.“Someone switched our bags,” I said quickly, words tumbling out. “I didn

I didn’t stop running until my lungs burned. Rain soaked every inch of me, blurring the streets, the lights, the world. I didn’t even know where I was anymore—somewhere between panic and disbelief.Lucien had been shot. The sound wouldn’t leave my head. I wanted to turn back, but my legs wouldn’t listen. They just kept moving.When I finally collapsed under an awning, my breath came out in ragged gasps. I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying not to cry. The envelope was still clutched in my hand, soaked but intact. I didn’t even know why I was holding onto it anymore—only that he told me to.Then headlights cut through the street. A black SUV slowed at the corner. My body froze. Not again.Before I could move, someone grabbed my arm from behind. I spun, ready to scream, but a familiar voice rasped, “Quiet.”I almost didn’t believe it. Lucien stood there, drenched, pale, one arm pressed to his side.“You’re alive,” I whispered.“Barely.”He pushed me back into the shadows as the SUV rol

The shots kept coming like bad thunder. I felt them in my bones more than I heard them: sharp, random, terrifying. Lucien moved like he was made of practiced danger—taking positions, checking corners, barking one-word orders I couldn’t always follow. I wanted to argue, to scream, to ask why my life had turned into a war movie, but my mouth kept dry and small. So I listened.He dragged me toward the back of the house where the kitchen opened into a narrow yard. “Through there,” he said, voice clipped. “Wall, then alley. Move.” His hand found my elbow and pushed. He was steady in a way that made me want to trust him stupidly, wholly.We climbed over a low brick divider and I scraped my shin. “Ow!” I hissed. He didn’t look back. “Shut up and climb,” he ordered, but there was a laugh in it—more relief than cruelty. Maybe he was laughing at the absurdity of me actually doing it.We hit the alley and ran until our lungs burned. The rain had turned everything into reflections, so every stree