The phone felt like a burning weight in Angela’s trembling hands. Her heart pounded so hard the could barely hear the person on the water and
A day has passed and that person has contacted her again.
“You don’t have much time,” the voice instructed, low and urgent. “Mikhail is unpredictable. If he f finds out, you’ll never get another chance *
Angela swallowed. Fear coiled tight in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if she feared Mikhail’s wrath or the unknown more, but she knew one thing this was her only shot at freedom.
Yelena stood beside her, eyes darting toward the door as if expecting it to burst open at any second. “We have to move fast, she whispered “I can get you through the servant’s quarters, but you need to trust me.”
Angela clutched the phone. “Who are you?” she asked the person on the other end.
A pause. Then, “A friend.”
The line went dead.
Angela exhaled shakily, her fingers curling into fists. A friend? She had no friends in this world anymore. But did it matter? if there was even a sírver of hope, she had to take it.
Yelena tugged on her arm. “Come, before it’s too late.”
Angela nodded, her resolve solidifying. “Okay.”
The night air was thick with tension as they moved through the darkened halls. Yelena led the way, her movements swift and practiced. Angela’s bare feet barely made a sound against the marble floors. Every step she took felt like a countdown to either salvation or disaster.
Her fingers skimmed the cold walls as she followed blindly. Each creak of the wooden panels beneath them sent her nerves into overdrive. She had spent too long in this house, memorizing its sounds, its layout. But tonight, every shadow felt like Mikhail himself lurking in the darkness, waiting to strike.
They reached a side door near the servant’s quarters. The path which led to the servant’s quarters was unfamiliar to her. Yelena carefully turned the knob, wincing as it let out a small squeak. She paused, listening.
Silence.
Then, the distant sound of footsteps.
Angela froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
Yelena grabbed her wrist. “We have to go now.”
But the footsteps were getting closer.
Angela’s pulse skyrocketed. She turned, instinct taking over, and bolted toward another corridor. Yelena stifled a gasp but followed, whispering harshly, “Where are you going?!”
“Anywhere but here!” Angela hissed back.
A door appeared ahead—a heavy oak one she knew led outside. Hope flared in her chest. She grabbed the handle, twisting it desperately.
Locked.
“No, no, no-” she whispered in panic.
“Looking for this?”
1/2
Chapter In
Angela’s blood turned to ice,
Mikhail’s voice, dark and edged with lethal coldness, sliced through the silence. She turned slowly, her breath shaky, her heart dropping to her stomach.
He stood in the dim light, his tall frame casting a shadow against the wall. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his sleeved rolled us were hulging along his forearms. But it was his ruthless gaze which she could sense that made Angela feet like she was drowning
Fury. Betrayal. A storm brewing so violently she could barely breathe.
In his hand, he twirled a single key between his fingers.
Yelena took a step back. “S–sir-”
“Guard,” Mikhail boomed as two of his men stepped inside. “Take her,” Mikhail hissed looking at Yelena who screamed as those men seized her away for interrogation for whom she was working for.
“Leave,” Mikhail ordered, his voice devoid of warmth.
Yelena’s eyes darted to Angela, apology written all over her face as she cried for her life, before those men fled into the darkness with her.
Angela was left alone.
With him.
She was trembling.
She forced herself to stand tall, but her insides were quaking. “Sorry,” she said, though her voice was weaker than she intended.
Mikhail took slow, deliberate steps toward her. “You planned to run from me again, Angela. I’m done being the nice guy.” His tone was deceptively calm, but the undercurrent of rage sent chills through her.
Angela clenched her trembling fists. “S–sorry.”
His lips curled into a deadly smirk. “Why do you shake when I look at you?”
She hated that he was right. Hated that her body reacted to him in ways her mind rebelled against.
Mikhail lifted his hand, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The fouch was deceptively gentle, but Angela knew better. This was the calm before the
storm.
“You thought you could escape me, angel?” His fingers traced down her jaw, slow, deliberate. “How foolish.”
Angela shivered, her resolve slipping. But she couldn’t let him win.
“1-1,” she couldn’t form a proper word.
Mikhail’s expression darkened. Without warning, he grabbed her waist, pulling her against him. She gasped, hands bracing against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt.
His grip was firm, possessive. “Let me make something very clear to you,” he murmured, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers. “You can try to run, but you will never escape me.”
Angela’s breath hitched as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“I will always find you.”
His words settled deep inside her, a promise wrapped in a threat.
Angela’s knees felt weak. She had never felt so trapped, so ensnared. And the worst part? A small part of her–one she refused to acknowledge–felt
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Chapter 17
utterly defeated.
Mikhail exhaled, his grip tightening before he abruptly pulled away. His eyes lingered on her for a second too long before he turned toward the door He unlocked it, pushed it open… then slammed it shut.
Locking them both inside.
Angela’s stomach dropped. “Mikhail-”
“You wanted to leave so badly?” he said, his voice eerily calm. He took slow, predatory steps toward her. “Then I suppose I’ll have to remind you exactly who you belong to.”
Angela backed away, her heart thudding violently. The air between them crackled, dangerous and electric.
Mikhail reached for her.
And Angela knew…
She had just sealed her fate.
