Smoke coiled through the air, curling like poisonous fingers around the ceiling, clouding Rose's vision and biting at her throat. Her chest heaved with each shallow breath, the taste of burnt fabric and plastic lingering on her tongue. Her eyes stung as tears mixed with sweat, tracing hot lines down her cheeks. Coughs racked her lungs, but she refused to stop. The fire had spread quickly, faster than she anticipated. The bedsheet she'd ignited smoldered in angry flames by the door, licking up the wooden paneling and crackling in the otherwise suffocating silence.
The fire alarm shrieked overhead, a piercing wail that made her ears ring. She backed away from the blaze, her gaze darting around the room. Nothing. No one yet. But they would come. Someone had to. There was no way they would let their prized possession burn to death in some locked room.
Her heart pounded as she crouched near the corner behind the door, gripping the heavy wooden chair. Her bare feet were slick with sweat against the cold marble floor. The thin dress clung to her like a second skin, offering neither warmth nor comfort. Every inch of her trembled—not from fear, but from adrenaline.
Then she heard it—the sound of the door being slammed, someone was trying to break down the door. She waited patiently. As soon as the door fell down with a thud.
Her grip on the chair tightened.
Shadows spilled across the smoke-hazed room as the door cracked open. Rose didn't wait to see who it was.
With a scream lodged in her throat, she swung the chair with all her strength.
The sound of the impact was sickening. A grunt of pain, then a body stumbled backward. Rose didn't stop to look. She bolted through the smoke, through the door, through the chaos.
The corridor outside was just as smoke-filled, but the air was cooler. She pushed forward, driven by instinct and desperation. The sprinklers had gone off, misting water down the hallway, adding slipperiness to her already difficult sprint. She could hear voices. People talking, screaming and cursing. But she didn't care to stop or even listen she just ran.
To her left, the elevator stood with its doors sealed tight. She didn't even glance at it. She veered right, feet slapping wet marble as she hurled herself toward the emergency stairs.
Down she went.
One flight.
Two.
Three.
The air grew cleaner, but her muscles screamed. Her legs were shaking from the effort. Her hands bled—one had grazed the stairwell wall when she stumbled in her hurry. Her lungs burned, but she didn't stop.
She didn't dare.
She could hear chaos above. Shouts. Footsteps. The hiss of extinguishers being activated. But no one had caught her yet.
She reached the ground floor.
She paused at the corner of the stairwell, peering out into the main corridor. It was relatively clear. Smoke hung faintly. The front door—open.
Her heart soared. Just a few more steps.
She bolted.
But before she could reach the threshold of freedom, a wall of muscle slammed into her.
She screamed.
A thick arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her back. She thrashed, screamed louder, kicked her legs. Trying to break free but whoever it was, was too strong.
"Let go of me! LET ME GO!"
The guard cursed under his breath as she twisted in his grip. She brought her head back with force, connecting with his chin. He grunted in pain, his grip loosening.
She turned, teeth bared, and bit into his forearm.
He howled.
She kicked him, scratched his face, leaving deep gouges that bled. He stumbled back, but he wasn't done.
Just as she pushed past him, ready to run again—
"You little bitch."
The voice stopped her cold.
Her blood turned to ice.
Leon.
He stepped out from the shadows, face twisted in fury, his suit soaked in patches from the sprinklers. His eyes locked on her like a predator.
Before she could move, he was on her.
SLAP!
Her head snapped to the side. Her cheek exploded in pain. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as her lip split open.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Leon grabbed her by the jaw, fingers digging in harshly, forcing her to look at him.
"You will regret trying to run away, you little slut," he spat. His breath reeked of anger and expensive cologne. "I will teach you a lesson. You'll be begging for death when I'm done with you."
Her stomach turned.
"Take her to my villa," he ordered the guard behind him. "And someone handle the damn fire before the whole floor collapses."
Rose thrashed in his grip. She kicked, twisted, fought like a wildcat, but it was no use. The guard recovered, grabbing her arms from behind and pinning them.
"Let me go!"
She screamed again, this time louder, more guttural. A raw sound of desperation.
Leon leaned in closer. "Scream all you want. No one is coming for you."
Then she felt it.
A sting. A sharp jab to her neck.
A syringe.
Her eyes widened.
"No...no..."
Everything slowed.
The hallway tilted.
Her legs buckled.
Leon's face blurred into the haze. The fire alarm still blared in the distance, but it was like she was underwater now. The guard's grip on her loosened slightly as her body went limp.
Her mind screamed, but her body betrayed her.
Blackness crept in from the edges.
And then—nothing.
-------------
Nikolai yanked the door shut and fastened his seatbelt in one swift motion, his jaw clenched tight. The sound of the engine roaring to life echoed like a war drum in the quiet driveway. The sun had begun to set, casting a fiery orange glow across Sergei's estate, painting everything in hues of blood and gold. But Nikolai had no time to admire the view. Time was slipping through his fingers like water, and every second brought Rose closer to something he wasn't sure she would survive.
Scar Face slid into the passenger seat beside him, his face just as grim. He adjusted his holster and gave Sergei, who stood at the front entrance with his hand resting on the silver wolf-headed cane, a slight nod.
Sergei's cold eyes glinted beneath his furrowed brows. "Come back alive kid." Sergei muttered more to himself than anyone else.
"We have her exact location," Scar Face said quickly, flipping open a tablet that illuminated his features with a pale blue light. "Leon had her in one of his penthouses in downtown Miami. But she set the place on fire. We believe it was a distraction—an escape attempt. According to the reports, she didn't make it out, though. They caught her near the entrance."
Nikolai's grip tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. "Damn it."
"She's being moved," Scar Face continued. "They're transferring her to his villa. It's secluded, outside the city limits. A fortress in the jungle. He must think she'll be easier to control there."
"How far is the villa from the penthouse?"
"An hour's drive. Maybe less with a fast vehicle," Scar Face said, narrowing his eyes. "We have Konstantin intercepting Leon's route. He'll delay the car long enough for us to catch up, but that gives us very little time to work with."
Nikolai's foot slammed on the accelerator, tires screeching against the cobblestone driveway as the car tore through the gates of Sergei's mansion and onto the open road. "Then we don't waste a second."
The world outside the car blurred. Trees, houses, and streetlights passed in a kaleidoscope of motion, but all Nikolai saw was Rose. Her bruised face. Her trembling hands. The fire in her eyes when she used to fight him, argue with him, stand up to him. And now she was in the hands of Leon—a rabid animal with no conscience.
"She was smart to set that fire," Scar Face said quietly. "She bought herself time, even if it didn't work out."
"She's always been a fighter," Nikolai murmured, his voice thick with something raw and furious. "And that bastard touched her. If he's laid even one finger—"
"He will die," Scar Face said with certainty. "By your hand or mine."
The car thundered down the highway, the orange horizon swallowed by the fast-descending night. Miami lay ahead like a glittering trap. But Nikolai didn't fear the city. He feared what Rose might endure if they didn't get to her in time.
He slammed his fist against the dashboard. "We're coming for you, Rose. Hold on."