Airport.
The moment Nathaniel Fu stepped off his private jet, news hit him like a thunderclap—Li Chong had escaped.
He immediately dialed Celia's number.
But he was a second too late. After a startled scream, the line went dead—replaced by a busy signal.
Nathaniel's handsome features turned to stone, his knuckles whitening around the phone."Have you found where Li Chong is?"
"Mr. Fu," Secretary Song's voice was urgent, "we've tracked him. He's taken Miss Celia to an abandoned house in the western suburbs. Li Chong's already dangerous, but now that he's cornered—her life is in serious danger."
Before the sentence had even finished, Nathaniel was moving—descending the stairs in long strides.
He threw open the door of his Rolls-Royce Phantom, gunned the engine, and shot forward with a roar.
Pedestrians turned to stare."Who is that guy? He's driving like it's a fighter jet!"
An abandoned house, western suburbs.
Celia awoke to a sharp ache at the base of her neck. She was lying on a sagging, foul-smelling bed.
A man sat beside her—Li Chong. His one good eye gleamed with a hunger that made her skin crawl.
"Celia… awake at last?" His voice was low, almost a purr.
She pushed herself upright, her mind instantly cataloging the situation. No phone. No weapon. No easy escape.
"I didn't expect you to get out," she said coldly. "Turn yourself in now. If you lay a finger on me, you'll spend the rest of your life rotting in prison."
Li Chong laughed, the sound a slow, sick rasp."Turn myself in? Don't joke, girl. I've waited years for this moment—and I still haven't taken you back to the countryside where you belong."
His gaze roamed her face, lingering far too long. "You've been beautiful since you were a child—too beautiful for your own good. Even in rags, you carried yourself like you were born for more. I couldn't get you out of my mind."
Celia's stomach turned. The memories he was digging up were ones she'd buried deep—memories of locked doors, his shadow in the doorway, the night her fierce resistance had cost him an eye.
He smiled, a twisted parody of warmth. "Last time, I only marked your face and you still wouldn't obey. This time… I'll cut the tendons in your hands and feet, keep you locked in my basement until you learn to please me. Then you'll give me a child. How does that sound?"
A laugh—low, guttural, and rotten—slid from his throat.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, but her eyes stayed like shards of ice. "Beast."
He grinned wider. "Curse me all you want, Celia. The more you fight, the sweeter it gets."
He lunged.
The room was dim, but Celia had already palmed a handful of dust from the corner. As his shadow loomed over her, she flung it into his face.
"Ahh—!" Li Chong hissed, clutching at his eye.
She bolted from the bed, sprinting for the door.
A sliver of daylight spilled in from outside. She ran toward it like her life depended on it—because it did.
For a heartbeat, it was ten years ago again, a terrified little girl running with all her strength toward a thin strip of light beyond a door.
Back then, she hadn't made it. The beast had dragged her back into the dark.
Would it be different this time?
Closer.
She could almost touch the light.
"Damn girl!"
A rough hand shot out from the shadows and clamped around her arm, yanking her backward.