Elara doesn't argue — at first.
Damien moves through the mansion with swift, controlled precision, issuing orders she doesn't fully understand.
Security teams spread out.
Bags are packed.
Encrypted devices are sealed into black cases.
It feels like the mansion is preparing for war.
Elara finally catches up to him near the private elevator.
> "Damien—where exactly are we going?"
He presses a finger to the elevator scanner before answering.
> "Somewhere no one can track us."
That doesn't reassure her.
> "So we're hiding?"
Damien turns sharply, his eyes locking onto hers.
> "We're regrouping."
His tone is final—almost cold.
But there's a shadow of something else beneath it.
Fear?
Guilt?
The elevator doors open.
Inside waits a small transport team and several sealed metal cases.
Elara steps in reluctantly.
Damien follows her, and the doors close.
For a moment, they're alone.
A quiet hum fills the air.
Elara crosses her arms.
> "I didn't sign a contract that said I would be smuggled out of the city like illegal cargo."
Damien exhales slowly.
> "You also didn't sign a contract that said assassins would come after you."
Touché.
But Elara isn't satisfied.
> "Running won't stop her."
Damien steps closer.
> "I know."
The elevator stops.
When the doors slide open, Elara freezes.
They're in a hangar.
A sleek midnight-black helicopter waits, blades slowing.
This isn't a normal escape.
This is a billionaire escape.
The noise is loud, but Damien leans close enough for his breath to brush her ear.
> "Selene controls the city.
She can pull strings here."
He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes.
> "But she can't pull them everywhere."
He gestures to the helicopter.
> "Get in."
Elara hesitates.
> "Where are we going?"
Damien waits a beat, then answers:
> "My safehouse."
That could mean anything.
A bunker.
A hidden island.
An underground base.
A penthouse in another country.
With Damien Wolfe, nothing is predictable.
Elara takes a deep breath and climbs in.
Damien follows.
The doors shut.
The helicopter lifts into the night sky, Aurelia City shrinking below them — a glittering trap they're leaving behind.
But halfway into the flight, the pilot speaks through the comms.
> "Sir… I'm picking up something."
Damien leans forward.
> "What kind of something?"
The pilot hesitates.
> "A drone. Fast. Military-grade. It's following us."
Elara's blood turns cold.
Damien snaps into command mode.
> "Evasive pattern. Now."
The helicopter tilts sharply, wind roaring against the windows as the city lights spin beneath them.
Elara's fingers grip the seat.
The drone appears in the corner window — a streak of silver and blue lights, closing in fast.
Damien unbuckles, moving toward a metal case beneath the seat.
> "Stay down," he tells her.
Elara's voice trembles.
> "Damien… what is that thing trying to do?"
He pulls the case open.
Inside is a sleek, compact weapon—a signal disruptor with glowing circuits and a grip like a high-tech rifle.
He checks the device, jaw tense.
> "It's not trying to scare us."
He lifts the disruptor and positions himself near the door.
> "It's trying to shoot us out of the sky."
Elara stares, heart hammering.
Damien looks at her with a calm he shouldn't have in a moment like this.
> "I promised you I'd keep you alive."
"Hold on."
He signals the pilot.
The door slides open.
Wind tears through the cabin.
And Damien Wolfe — the man she married by accident, the man who never flinches — steps into the open doorway, weapon raised, staring death in the face.
Cliffhanger:
The drone fires a glowing projectile straight toward the helicopter—
and Damien pulls the trigger.
---