Chapter Fourteen

The night felt endless. Every breath Sarah took echoed in the quiet cellar, each heartbeat drumming in her ears like the ticking of a bomb. The cold stone walls, which once seemed sturdy and unyielding, now felt like the bars of a prison closing in on her. She couldn't stay here, couldn't sit in the darkness, waiting for tomorrow to bring whatever horror Adrian had planned. But where could she go? There was no running from this, no escaping the trap she had fallen into.

Her mind swirled with the weight of it all—Antonio's desperate face as he was dragged away, Adrian's cold command that her father's life was now at stake, and the sinking realization that she was a pawn in a game far bigger than she had ever imagined. The strings that tied her to Adrian were tightening, and no matter how hard she pulled, she couldn't break free.

With a trembling hand, Sarah wiped the tears from her face and stood. She couldn't afford to be weak now. If she crumbled, it would be over—everything. Antonio's life. Her father's. Hers. Tomorrow wasn't just the day she had to serve Adrian, it was the day she had to survive.

As she climbed the stairs out of the cellar, her mind raced with thoughts of escape. Could she find Antonio? If she did, could they outrun Adrian? It seemed impossible—Adrian's reach stretched far beyond the walls of this mansion. His men were everywhere, watching, waiting. But still, she couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a way out.

The mansion above was eerily quiet as Sarah slipped into the hallway, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath her feet. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to move, to do something. But as she reached the grand staircase, the soft murmur of voices caught her ear. She froze, her body tensing instinctively.

"Do you think she'll go through with it?" The voice was low, hushed, but unmistakable. It was Adrian's right-hand man, Nico. He had always unnerved her—the cold, calculating way he looked at her, as if she were a problem to be solved.

"She doesn't have a choice," came the reply, another voice Sarah didn't recognize. "Adrian made sure of that. Between her father and Antonio, she'll do whatever he wants."

There was a beat of silence, and then Nico's voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "I wouldn't be so sure. She's got fire in her. Adrian might have miscalculated this time."

Sarah's breath caught in her throat. Nico thought she might defy Adrian? Could she? The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. But what could she do? How could she fight a man like Adrian, with all his power and influence?

"Doesn't matter," the second voice said. "She'll burn out like the rest of them. Adrian always wins."

The words were like a slap in the face, and Sarah's hope crumbled under the weight of them. No one ever defied Adrian. Not really. He always won, no matter the cost.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps heading toward her snapped her out of her thoughts. She quickly darted behind a pillar, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't afford to be caught eavesdropping. Not now.

As Nico and the other man passed, Sarah pressed her back against the wall, willing herself to stay calm. Once they were out of sight, she exhaled shakily, her mind spinning. Nico's words stayed with her, though, that small flicker of hope burning in the back of her mind. If she could find a way to fight back, she had to. But she would need help.

And there was only one person she could turn to now.

****

The moonlight filtered through the tall windows as Sarah made her way to the farthest wing of the mansion, her footsteps quick and quiet. She had no idea if Adrian's men were watching, but she couldn't afford to hesitate. She needed to find Antonio.

She reached the door to the small room where she had last seen him dragged, her heart in her throat. What if he was already dead? What if Adrian had made sure of it before she could even try to save him?

With a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. And there, lying on the floor, was Antonio. He was unconscious, his face bloodied and bruised, but he was alive. Relief washed over her like a wave, but it was short-lived.

Because standing over him, gun in hand, was Nico.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to come," he said, his voice calm, almost amused. "You've made your decision, Sarah. Now let's see if you can live with it."