Elara's pulse thundered in her ears. The stranger stood only a few steps away, the faint moonlight slicing across his scarred cheek, his eyes fixed on her with unnerving intensity. He carried no weapon she could see, but his presence was sharp, cutting through the perfumed air of the glass garden.
"Damian will destroy you," he said quietly, his words coiled with certainty. "Not today, not tomorrow, but soon. He doesn't keep things. He breaks them. That's what he does."
Elara's mouth went dry. She wanted to deny it, to throw his words back at him—but they lodged in her throat, because part of her had already begun to fear the same.
Her voice came out thin, fragile. "You don't know him."
The stranger tilted his head, stepping into the glow of the orchids. "I know him better than you think. And I know what he's planning. Tomorrow, he'll hand you to someone he calls his ally. That man isn't there to protect you. He's there to bleed you."
Her stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat. "Why are you telling me this? Who are you?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He hesitated as though weighing a truth too heavy to give. Finally, his voice dropped lower. "My name doesn't matter. What matters is this—you're not his possession, Elara. No matter how much he tells you otherwise. You still have a choice."
Choice. The word scraped raw across her chest. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to believe in one.
"And if I choose to trust you?" she whispered.
"Then you meet me again. Soon. Away from here. I can help you vanish before his world consumes you."
Elara's breath shook. The promise was dangerous, intoxicating. Freedom dangled before her, glittering like a key she was terrified to take.
But another voice echoed in her mind, low and commanding, Damian's warning carved deep: If you betray me, you'll wish you hadn't.
Her heart twisted violently. Could this stranger be real salvation—or another predator cloaked in softer lies?
She took a step back, her heel brushing against the stone floor. "If this is a trap, if he sent you—"
The man's eyes hardened. "Do you think he'd ever allow me here? He doesn't even know how close I've gotten. That's why I came tonight. To prove there's a world outside his chains."
A sound cracked the silence—distant, faint, but unmistakable. The heavy tread of boots on the gravel path outside.
Guards.
The man's head snapped toward the noise. His gaze returned to hers, urgent now. "Decide, Elara. Do you want to wait for Damian to hand you over, or do you want a chance to escape?"
Her chest constricted, panic clawing at her throat. Her hand tightened around the phone in her pocket, its screen still glowing faintly with his earlier messages.
Choice.
She had begged for one, prayed for one—and now, with the greenhouse trembling under the sound of approaching footsteps, she realized that choosing might damn her no matter what.
The stranger leaned closer, his voice a harsh whisper. "If you stay, he'll eat you alive. If you come with me, I'll get you out. Not safe—nothing's safe anymore. But free. You have ten seconds."
Her heart screamed in her ears. Ten seconds to decide if she belonged to the devil she knew—or the shadow she didn't.
The glass panes shuddered as the guards drew closer. Damian's empire was pressing in, step by step.
And Elara stood frozen between two predators, her trembling hand caught on the edge of the cage door.