The bus station smelled like rain, tiredness, and desperation. Maybe the last one came from me. My fingers shook as I tightened my grip on the worn-out duffel bag, which was the only thing from my old life that I had let myself carry. The announcement board lit up above me, and each glowing line told me that my child would be safer the more I ran.
My child.
He had a child.
The thought made my throat feel weird.
I shouldn't have looked back. I knew I shouldn't have. But for some reason, I turned anyway, looking through the crowd as if I expected Damien Blackwell to show up out of nowhere—tall, magnetic, angry, and in charge of whatever world he entered.
But he wasn't there.
Not yet.
I took a shaky breath, and my free hand moved over my lower stomach. I was only eight weeks old and barely alive, but everything inside me felt strongly protective already. Scared. Of course.
Damien would never let me leave if he found out.
A sleek black SUV sped by the station door, and my heart hurt so much that it hurt. For a terrifying moment, I saw his shadow behind the wheel. He had a sharp jawline, dark eyes, and a presence that filled every room like a fire you couldn't breathe in.
The hallucination went away when I blinked.
Not him.
Just a stranger.
But that was Damien's issue. He felt too close even when he wasn't there. That man had a way of getting into your life that made you feel like you were either safe or possessed.
But I still loved him.
I loved him so much that it made me feel empty.
The voice from above said, "Next departure to Northbridge in fifteen minutes."
I won't be here for fifteen minutes.
I turned into a ghost in my own story in fifteen minutes.
My chest got tight. I walked to the platform without thinking about it, focusing on each step as if it were the only thing keeping me up. The rain soaked my sneakers, my hair stuck to my face, and I didn't look anything like the woman Damien used to hold in his arms like I was the center of the universe.
No, I wasn't.
Not really.
I had to acquire this knowledge through hard work.
I shuddered as memories came back to me.
The last fight.
The last thing to say.
He looked at me in a way that was angry, hurt, and difficult to read.
"Don't leave me, Lauren."
"You don't own me, Damien."
I thought his jaw would break because it was so tight.
"I don't want to own you."
But in his eyes... They told each other another story.
I closed my eyes tightly, and the scene played over and over like a wound opening again.
I loved a man who couldn't love without making everything worse.
What if he knew about the child?
He would also take away my freedom.
"Ticket?" A voice broke in.
The bus driver, who had a gray beard and sad eyes, held out his hand. I gave her my crumpled ticket with shaky hands.
He asked softly, "Are you okay, Miss?"
No.
No way.
Everything in my life was wrong.
But I managed to smile a little. "Just tired."
He nodded and moved out of the way. "Choose any seat you want."
I climbed the steps, and each one felt like another cut in the life I was losing.
There weren't many people on the bus. Two people sleep. A woman is reading. Someone is using their phone with headphones on.
No one would even look at me once.
No one knew that the daughter of a billionaire was running away from one of the city's most feared men.
I slid into a window seat and grabbed my bags like they were a lifeline. The rain on the glass made the city lights look like glowing rivers. The city had everything I needed and wanted to get away from.
My phone buzzed.
My heart dropped.
Damien.
His name on the screen made me feel like I couldn't breathe.
I stared, unable to move.
Voicemail.
Messages: one, two, three.
He is the source of everything.
I could feel my heart racing as I held the phone to my ear and listened.
"Laurie."
His voice was low, clipped, and dangerously calm.
"Where are you?"
I held the seat so tightly that my fingers hurt.
This is the second note.
"This is not funny." Please call me back.
I swallowed with a lot of shaking.
Third message.
At first, there was silence.
Then, in a way, I'd never heard him talk before—not angry or bossy... Something more real—
"Please, baby."
I couldn't breathe.
No.
Don't break down right now.
Don't let him bring you back with just one word.
My thumb was right above the button to erase.
My baby fluttered inside of me like a whisper.
I took out the three texts.
I had to do it.
The engine of the bus started to make noise.
I leaned against the cool window with my eyes closed, and tears ran down my cheeks without making any noise. I didn't cry. Did not shake. I let out many feelings, like my body couldn't hold them all.
The rain got worse and hit the bus hard as it left the station.
This was it.
The last chance.
I put my arms around my stomach and said, "In the dark,"
"I won't let anyone hurt you." Not even him.
But, deep down, another voice said,
What if leaving him is the hardest thing to do?
I didn't pay attention to it.
I didn't have time for delicate feelings.
This was especially true after witnessing Damien Blackwell's reaction to being tricked.
The bus got on the highway. The city got smaller as it got farther away, and the skyline faded into mist.
I tried to breathe evenly.
In. Out.
But I still remembered Damien's stormy gray eyes, which saw right through me. Eyes that didn't ask for permission. Eyes that said.
I used to think their eyes meant safety.
Now they were in trouble.
I held on to my bag tighter, hoping he wouldn't find me. That he would let me leave. I hoped that the kid would grow up away from boardrooms filled with the scent of money and danger, surrounded by men who loved too hard and broke too much.
But the truth was cold in my heart:
Men like Damien wouldn't let go.
They went hunting.
The lights on the bus went out. The road hummed beneath us. I got sleepy, and my eyes got heavy.
I hoped that my last conscious thought, a whisper, had stayed buried.
Damien... What will you do if you ever find us?