The Door - 2

Donovan entered the space and was instantly enveloped by a wave of warmth. The room had no windows to offer for air to circulate. The room should have been chilly, but instead, it was as comforting as a mother's hug for her child. There were no visible light sources, such as bulbs or candles, and yet the brightness in the room was comparable to sunlight flooding the room without casting any shadows. The atmosphere was neither stale nor did it emit the oppressive odour of dust or sweat. It felt surreal as if he had crossed into another realm rather than merely stepping into a hidden room within a nightclub.

As he stepped further inside the room, his eyes were drawn to the middle of the room. There she was, curled up like a broken doll—Liora.

Liora—his Liora—sat on the wooden floor, her knees drawn tightly to her chest, her delicate arms wrapped around them as though trying to hold herself together. Her golden hair, usually flowing like a sunlit waterfall, was messed up. The sight of her bare shoulders, the vulnerability of her pale skin exposed in nothing but a bra, sent an unforgiving rage coursing through his veins. A sharp pang stabbed through his chest. His stomach twisted.

"Li… Liora." His voice came out softer than he intended as if anything louder would shatter her into pieces. However, she didn't respond.

Tightening his fist to control the emotions that urged him to go to Liora and wrap her in his protective embrace, he knew he couldn't do that. So, he spoke her name once again. "Liora!" This time, it was more than a whisper, and his voice cracked slightly with the sheer desperation clawing at him. Her body moved, and her head snapped up.

Her eyes—red-rimmed, wide, drowning in tears—locked onto his. She blinked as if making sure he was really there, as if afraid he would disappear like an illusion conjured by her broken mind.

"Nova!" For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Donovan was unable to articulate the emotions that washed over him when she called him Nova. It felt as if a single droplet of water had gently touched the barren earth.

And just like that, she shattered. Tears spilled from her eyes, sobs wracking her small frame, and before he could say anything, she was already on her feet, stumbling forward, her bare skin shivering under the weight of whatever nightmare she had endured. She threw herself into his arms with such force that he stumbled back a step. Donovan's arms moved instinctively, locking around her, feeling her trembling, cold body. And his hug tightened with an intensity that made his own body tremble.

"I was waiting for you!" she sobbed into his chest.

She had been waiting for him. Through all of this, through all the terror, she had been waiting for him. And that realization shook him more than anything ever had.

As he stood there, holding her as tightly as he could without crushing her, memories came rushing back—the first time his eyes were locked onto hers, that moment had been enough to plant something in his heart, something that refused to die no matter how much he tried to bury it.

But when he had heard her call Daran baby—when he had thought she loved another—he had turned his back on those feelings, locking them away so deep inside himself that he had convinced himself they never existed.

How long had he been running? How long had he been lying to himself? And why did it take this—her trembling in his arms, stripped of her defences—for him to finally see what had been right in front of him all along? A lot of emotions were betraying his control.

His heart belonged to her. She had always ruled his heart and mind. And from now onwards, nothing—no billionaire brats, no Glaciers, no Daran, no force in this world—was ever going to take her from him again. No one is ever going to hurt her.

"I am sorry," Donovan's voice was thick with emotion. He pressed his cheek against her hair, breathing in the faint flower scent that was uniquely hers. It was exactly the same as he had smelled on that bus ride years ago.

"I am sorry!" He was gnawing for not recognizing her sooner.

"I am really sorry." He was self-disgusted that he had called Liora at such a place, thinking he would introduce her to one of his good friends at the club.

"Forgive me, Liora!" Each apology was a heartbeat. He would never let her face such pain again and would always protect her.

Liora melted into Donovan, every fibre of her being slowly unwinding like a taut ribbon as she absorbed his warmth. Her body remembered the feel of his arms, the safety it promised her. Her pain started to fade away, and she escaped the nightmare she was trapped in, replaced by her safe haven.

Liora's eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open, her body swaying in his arms like a leaf caught in a storm. The shadows in her vision thickened, darkness creeping at the edges, dragging her under.

Her lips parted, whisper escaping, soft as a dying ember. "Thank god you came… I can rest now… Jackson." her voice trailed off at the word Jackson.

The name Jackson barely registered in Donovan's brain. Liora's body went limp, her delicate fingers slipping from where they had weakly clutched his sleeve, falling lifelessly to her side.

"Liora." His voice was low, urgent, but she didn't stir.

Panic surged through his veins like wildfire. His hand instantly cradled the back of her head, his other arm tightening around her waist, holding her against him as if he could somehow will her consciousness back just by keeping her close.

Carefully, he kneeled, lowering her onto the floor with the gentleness of a man handling something far too precious for this world. His eyes scanned her pale face, tracing over every fragile detail. That was when he saw it.

A bruise!

Staining her forehead like a cruel brand. A smear of blood had almost dried against her skin. His fingers hovered just above the wound before curling into a tight fist. The blood on the door outside—it was hers.

A slow, deep breath filled his lungs, but it did nothing to cool the fire raging inside him. His expression turned unreadable—empty, but beneath the void was a quiet, seething rage, a volcano simmering beneath the surface, its eruption only a matter of time.

Without a second thought, he removed his suit jacket and placed it beside her. Then, his fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it with quiet efficiency.

A single tear slipped from the corner of his left eye while looking at Liora's innocent face, vanishing before anyone could witness the proof of his breaking restraint.

He draped the crisp white fabric over her bare skin, ensuring it shielded her completely. He didn't dare look. His hands worked methodically, securing the buttons with quiet precision, his fingers steady but his breath uneven. The only thing in his mind now was covering her up—protecting her from the eyes of the world, shielding her from whatever nightmare had found her here.

Once the last button was in place, he slid his blazer over her shoulders, wrapping her in the warmth of his presence. Then, without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms.

Her weight was nothing to him, light as a dream, fragile as something that had barely survived the storm. He held her close, his grip firm, possessive, like a silent promise—one he had failed to make before but would never break again.

As he turned towards the door, his eyes landed on the strange script etched into the metal frame. He read them, his brows furrowing, something unsettling coiling in his gut. Before he could decipher their meaning, the door shifted. Without a touch, without a sound, it creaked open, revealing the world outside.

Donovan didn't question it. Didn't hesitate. He stepped through, and the instant his feet crossed the threshold, the door sealed shut behind him.

He didn't look back. His grip on Liora tightened, his expression darkening.

The moment he stepped out of the room, Donovan's men were standing outside in the white suits, waiting for him, waiting for his command.

"Bring everyone, all of them, to our basement, and the man who is lying on the floor—take him to the hospital and ensure he receives proper care. Once his injuries are nearly healed, bring him to the basement. Do not lose him," Donovan said, not glancing at them as his men kept their eyes on the ground.

"Yes, Capo dei Capi."

They are going to pay for this! And Donovan Magnum never left debts unsettled.

Donovan made his way to the terrace via the stairs, where his helicopter was ready to take him and Liora to the Triad Hospital in Valtham.

*

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Half an hour ago, in Avalon, Italy-

Amara jolted awake from her sleep and felt a sharp pain in her chest. She immediately glanced at her phone and called Liora, her beloved daughter, who had not called her that day. She calls her every night before sleeping. But today, she did not receive her call. Something felt ominous. Liora's phone rang, but no answer came. She tried calling again, but there was still no response. Every part of her being screamed that Liora might be in trouble.

She dialled Daran's number, who was in Sven's office recording everything while Sven conversed with his gang. He waited for them to leave before executing his plan with Rachel's assistance. He had turned off his phone before stealthily entering Sven's office.

Amara's anxiety grew when Daran didn't pick up her call. "Is Liora all right?"

Amara felt lost, unsure of what to do. Unable to remain still, she changed her clothes and drove to Dane's place. She pounded on his door relentlessly, rousing him from his nap.

Dane answered the door dressed only in pants, his toned torso exposed. "Amara, what's wrong?"

"Liora isn't answering my calls, Dane. I tried multiple times, and Daran isn't picking up either. Caspian's calls are going straight to voicemail." Amara was in a state of panic. "Something must have happened to Liora. Dane, we need to go to Valtham immediately."

"Amara!"

"What are you waiting for? Go change your clothes, and let's head to Valtham."

"Amara, please calm down." Dane placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to soothe her while getting her inside the apartment. "Let's talk first."

But his attempts only irritated her more. In a fit of emotions, she slapped Dane hard on the face. "Do you not hear me? I feel something happened to her. Do you not care about Liora anymore?" Amara glared at Dane in anger. She knew how much Dane cared for Liora, but she could not stop uttering mean comments in anger.

Her slap was hard, making Dane mused. Not knowing any other way to calm her, Dane hugged her, trying to comfort her. "Amara, please calm down."

Amara attempted to distance herself to strike him harder, but Dane held her tightly to help her calm down. "Breathe, Amara, breathe."

Although Amara was still irritated with him, that embrace worked wonders. Dane's calm voice did its magic on her. She concentrated on her breathing, gradually regaining her usual rhythm. She felt more composed than before.

She heard Dane saying, "We have an app that lets us check her location, and she can see ours, too." He gently patted her head. "Let's see if we can locate her."

Amara began to regain her clarity. 'Right, she has the app to track her position. Why didn't I think of that?'

Feeling that Amara had stopped resisting him, Dane questioned her, "Are you feeling alright?" She nodded her head slowly. "So, may I release you without fear of being attacked later?" He questioned her intentions.

"Yes! I am alright," Amara replied softly.

They sat side by side on the couch, the soft light from Dane's phone illuminating their faces. Dane opened a tracking app, and they both watched when it revealed Liora'ss location: Twilight Zone, a famous nightclub. They exchanged surprised looks.

"It appears Liora is at a club," Dane remarked, disbelief evident in his tone. "That could explain why she didn't pick up your call. Daran is likely with her as well."

Amara shook her head, struggling to accept that possibility. "But Liora never visits crowded venues," she countered, looking at Dane with scepticism etched on her face. "That isn't like her at all."

Dane tried to comfort her, even though he felt a twinge of concern himself. "Perhaps she's trying to do something different," he proposed, his voice soothing and understanding like a skilled musician.

"Amara, we must recognize that Liora is an adult now. She has been in a relationship with Daran for nearly five years now. Let's trust them instead of panicking. We can reach out to them later."

Amara bit her lip, and her heart weighed down with anxiety. Dane was right, but why did her heart say something different?

"Then why do I still feel this ache in my heart for Liora?" she questioned, her gaze dropping as she battled her nervousness.

Dane, understanding Amara's troubled heart, suggested, "We could ask Miracle for further information about Liora if you'd like," he suggested. "She can access the CCTV footage from the club." It was a good option to calm Amara's anxiety. It's not that Dane was not worried, but one had to remain strong among the two of them.

Amara hesitated, caught between her protective instincts and the need to have faith in her daughter. Finally, she gave in, "No, I should not do that," she took a deep inhalation before speaking. "You' are right! Maybe I am worrying for nothing."

Dane glanced at the wall clock, aware of the late hour. It was 4 a.m., and they both had a long day coming up. "Get some more rest, Amara," he encouraged, gently guiding her to recline. "We have a big day ahead of us. Just relax here."

Amara nodded, leaning back into the cushions, yet her thoughts remained uneasy.

Dane sat beside her, quietly providing support. Even with the reassurance, they both understood that the worry would persist until they heard directly from Liora.

*

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While Donovan and Liora were en route to Triad Hospital, a different storm was brewing elsewhere—one that would ripple through the night with unseen consequences.

At Sven's private office, far away from the University Campus, Rachel and Daran waited for Sven to be alone.

Meanwhile, across the city, deep within Valtham Castle, the men who were throwing blood in Twilight Zone lay unconscious in front of 'Raynor Valtham.'