Chapter Eighteen

The room was cold, the tension more so. Marco's figure loomed near the doorway, his shadow stretching across the floor as the dim light flickered. Adrian's cold eyes shifted between Sarah and Antonio, the weight of the moment crushing the air out of the room.

"I warned you, Sarah," Adrian's voice was a low growl, the words almost hissed through clenched teeth. "Running never solves anything."

Sarah's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing. Antonio lay on the ground, barely conscious, blood staining his shirt, and yet she knew he was their only chance at breaking free from this nightmare. Marco, who had been a silent observer, stepped closer, his eyes sharp, calculating.

"I'm not running," Sarah said finally, her voice more steady than she felt. "I'm trying to survive."

Adrian chuckled, but there was no warmth in the sound, only a chilling amusement. "Survive? With him?" His gun shifted, now aimed at Antonio. "Do you really think you can protect him, Sarah? Or are you simply hoping that by saving him, you'll save yourself?"

Her thoughts spun, flashes of memories from when she first met Adrian—when he was just a dangerous stranger in her father's office. The promises she had made to herself, the ones she had broken. Now, she stood in a web of her own making, one that Adrian had spun around her like silk.

Marco spoke up, his tone as calm as the still night outside. "This doesn't have to end in blood, Adrian. She's made her choice, but maybe we can still find... another way."

The irony wasn't lost on Sarah—Marco, the enforcer of Adrian's will, was now offering a way out? She wanted to believe him, but the gleam in his eyes hinted at something darker, a game she didn't yet understand.

Adrian's gaze lingered on Marco for a moment, a silent exchange passing between them. He lowered the gun slightly, but not enough to offer any real sense of safety. "Another way? Is that what you think, Marco? After everything?"

Sarah's pulse quickened. This was her chance, the smallest crack in Adrian's armor. "Adrian, this doesn't have to end like this," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "Antonio… he's not a threat to you. Let him go."

For a moment, Adrian's expression faltered—just for a fraction of a second, but it was there. Then, just as quickly, the mask slipped back into place. "Not a threat?" He laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. "Do you really believe that? He's the key to all of this, Sarah. Without him, you're nothing. And without you... he's as good as dead."

The truth hit her like a punch to the gut. This wasn't just about Antonio's life—it was about hers, her choices, the ones that had led her here. Adrian had played his cards expertly, every move calculated, every emotion exploited. She had thought she could outmaneuver him, but now, standing in this room with two men she couldn't trust, she realized just how deep she had sunk into the game.

Marco moved closer, his voice dropping low, almost conspiratorial. "Sarah... maybe Adrian's right. Maybe you should reconsider your loyalties." His eyes flashed dangerously, and for the first time, she realized Marco wasn't just a pawn—he was playing his own game.

Sarah's stomach twisted. The walls felt like they were closing in, her vision blurring as her mind raced through possible escapes. There had to be a way out—a way to save Antonio, to outwit Adrian, and to stay one step ahead of Marco.

"You think I haven't already considered that?" Sarah shot back, her voice sharp now, fueled by desperation. "I've been trapped in this game long enough to know when I'm being played. By all of you."

Marco smirked, but his eyes were cold. "Then you should know better than to trust anyone here."

The tension snapped like a coiled spring. Adrian's gun lowered a fraction more, but Sarah saw the intent in his eyes—the way he was still waiting for her to make the wrong move, to give him an excuse.

But she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Without another word, Sarah lunged for Antonio, pulling him up with what strength she had left. Adrian's gun swung back up, but in that split second, a loud crash echoed through the hallway. Marco and Adrian both spun toward the door, distracted by the sound.

Sarah seized the moment, dragging Antonio toward the window. The cold night air rushed in as she pushed it open, her breath coming in ragged gasps. But before she could help Antonio through, a voice—Marco's—cut through the chaos.

"You won't get far, Sarah."

Her heart pounded in her ears, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. Not now.

But just as she moved to pull Antonio through, another sound reached her ears—the unmistakable click of a safety being turned off.

She froze.

And then, Adrian's voice, quiet but deadly, filled the room.

"I told you, Sarah. Running only makes it worse."