Elena's POV
I walked into a trap.
Damian's gun presses against my spine, hidden from the security cameras by his body. To anyone watching, we look like a couple having a reunion. His arm around my shoulders could be affectionate instead of possessive.
"Smile, baby," he whispers in my ear. "Adrian's watching. Let's give him a show."
My legs want to run, but the gun keeps me frozen. "Let me go."
"You came to me, remember?" His grip tightens. "Walked right through my front door like a gift. I didn't even have to hunt you."
I made a mistake. A terrible, stupid mistake.
I thought I could negotiate with him. Thought I could offer to return the USB drive in exchange for leaving everyone else alone. But Damian doesn't negotiate—he takes.
"Walk," he orders, steering me toward the elevators. "We're going to my office. We're going to have a conversation about respect and consequences. And then we're going to discuss exactly how you're going to spend the rest of your life making this up to me."
The elevator doors open. He pushes me inside.
This is how I die. In Damian's office, where no one will hear me scream.
The doors start to close—
A hand catches them.
Adrian stands in the lobby, Marcus beside him. Both have guns drawn but can't use them—too many witnesses, too many cameras, too much risk of hitting me.
Damian's gun digs deeper into my back. "Come any closer, I'll paint this elevator with her blood."
"Let her go," Adrian says. His voice is deadly calm, but I see the rage in his eyes. "This is between you and me."
"Everything's between you and me, brother." Damian pulls me tighter against him. "Our whole lives have been a competition. Grades, sports, women, success—you always had to be better. Well, guess what? You don't win this time."
"This isn't about winning—"
"It's ALWAYS about winning!" Damian's control cracks. "You got Dad's respect before you killed him. You got the military career I wanted. You built an empire while I inherited a company. And now you think you get Elena too? No. She's the one thing that's mine and only mine."
"I'm not a thing," I say quietly.
His laugh is sharp in my ear. "You're whatever I say you are."
Adrian's gun doesn't waver. "You have three seconds to let her go before I stop caring about witnesses."
"You won't shoot. Not with her this close. Not with all these cameras. You're too controlled, too careful." Damian hits the button for the top floor—his private office. "Unlike me."
The elevator doors close.
We're alone.
Damian immediately shoves me against the wall, gun to my temple now. "You stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think you could fix this by sacrificing yourself? That's not how the world works."
"I thought—"
"You don't think. That's your problem." His free hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Three years I spent teaching you not to think, and one night with Adrian undoes it all. He's poisoning you against me."
"You poisoned yourself."
The slap comes fast. My head snaps to the side, cheek burning.
"Don't," he says softly. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. I'm trying to save us, Elena. Save what we had."
"We never had anything. You had a prisoner."
"I had a masterpiece." His voice turns wistful. "You were so beautiful when I met you. So bright and alive and perfect. I knew the moment I saw you that I had to have you. Had to make you mine completely."
The elevator climbs. Floor fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five.
"You can still come back," Damian continues. "Willingly. We'll destroy the evidence together, tell everyone Adrian kidnapped you, forced you to lie. I'll forgive you. We'll start over."
"I'd rather die."
"That can be arranged." The gun presses harder. "But first, you're going to call Adrian. Tell him you chose me. That you realized he's just using you to hurt me. Break his heart the way you broke mine."
"No."
"Elena." His voice drops to that dangerous whisper I know too well. "I will kill everyone you love. Your sister, Adrian, Marcus, even my own mother if that's what it takes. The only way they stay alive is if you obey. Do you understand?"
The elevator dings. Top floor.
The doors open to Damian's private office—all windows and dark furniture and the smell of his cologne that used to make me feel safe.
Now it makes me want to vomit.
He drags me inside, locking the door behind us. The gun never leaves my head.
"Call him," Damian orders, throwing my phone at me. "Now."
My hands shake as I pick it up. Thirty missed calls from Adrian. Fifteen from Marcus. Text messages flooding in:
Don't do this Where are you Elena please I'm coming
"Do it," Damian says. "Or I start with your sister."
I dial Adrian's number.
He answers before the first ring finishes. "Elena—"
"I'm okay," I interrupt. My voice sounds strange. Calm. Like I've accepted my fate. "I'm with Damian. At his office."
"Get out of there. Now. I'm five minutes away—"
"I'm staying," I say. The lie tastes like ash. "I made a mistake. You were right—I was using you to hurt him. But Damian and I... we're going to work this out. Together."
Silence on the other end. Heavy and disbelieving.
"He's making you say this," Adrian says finally. "He has a gun on you."
"No." Another lie. "I'm choosing this. Choosing him. Please don't come. Don't make this harder."
"Elena, listen to me—"
"Goodbye, Adrian." I end the call before I can break.
Damian smiles, satisfied. "Good girl. See? You still remember how to obey."
He lowers the gun slightly, turning to his desk to set it down.
One second. That's all I have.
I remember Adrian's lessons in the safe room. The self-defense moves he started teaching me. Strike fast, strike hard, don't hesitate.
I grab the heavy paperweight from the table beside me and swing.
It connects with Damian's temple with a sickening crack.
He stumbles, surprised. The gun clatters to the floor.
We both dive for it.
He's faster, stronger. His hand closes around the grip.
But I'm already moving, running for the door, fumbling with the lock—
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space.
Pain explodes through my shoulder. Hot and sharp and overwhelming.
I fall.
Damian stands over me, gun smoking, his face twisted with rage and something that might be grief.
"You made me do this," he says. Blood runs down his temple from where I hit him. "You made me hurt you. Why do you always make me hurt you?"
I try to breathe, but my shoulder is on fire. Blood spreads across my shirt, warm and sticky.
The office door explodes inward.
Adrian fills the doorway, gun raised, Marcus behind him.
But Damian is faster. He grabs me, hauling me up despite my scream of pain. The gun goes back to my head.
"Back off or I finish it," Damian says.
Adrian freezes. I've never seen him look like this—absolutely terrified beneath the control.
"Damian, please—" he starts.
"Please?" Damian laughs. "You're begging? The great Adrian Cross is begging?"
"Take me instead," Adrian says. "Whatever you want to do to her, do it to me. I'm the one who betrayed you. I'm the one who took her. Punish me."
"Oh, I will." Damian's grip tightens. "But first, she's going to watch you die. Then she'll understand the price of choosing wrong."
He aims the gun at Adrian.
I don't think.
I throw myself sideways, using all my weight.
Two gunshots.
I'm falling.
Someone's screaming.
The world goes dark around the edges.
The last thing I see is Adrian's face above me, his hands pressing against my wounds, his lips moving but I can't hear the words.
Then nothing.
I wake up to beeping.
Hospital sounds. Antiseptic smell. Soft sheets.
My shoulder throbs with each heartbeat.
"Elena?"
Adrian sits beside my bed, looking like he hasn't slept in days. Stubble on his jaw, dark circles under his eyes, blood—my blood—still on his shirt.
"You're alive," I whisper.
"So are you." His hand finds mine, grip gentle. "You threw yourself in front of a bullet. For me."
"Couldn't let him... hurt you..."
"You stopped breathing twice in the ambulance." His voice breaks. "Your heart stopped on the operating table. They had to—" He can't finish.
"Damian?"
Adrian's expression hardens. "Alive. In custody. Marcus shot him before he could fire again. He'll survive to stand trial."
"Your mother?"
"Awake. Stable. Asking about you." He squeezes my hand. "You saved my life, Elena."
"You saved mine first."
We sit in silence, hands linked, both of us alive despite everything.
Then the door opens.
A woman I don't recognize walks in—fifties, professional suit, federal badge.
"Miss Moretti, I'm Agent Sarah Chen with the FBI." She looks apologetic. "I'm sorry to interrupt your recovery, but we need to talk. About your testimony against Damian Cross."
"Okay," I say weakly.
"There's a complication." She glances at Adrian. "The evidence you collected—the USB drive—has been compromised. Someone accessed the files remotely and corrupted half the data. Without it, we don't have enough to hold Damian long-term."
My blood runs cold. "What?"
"Someone inside law enforcement helped him," Agent Chen continues. "Leaked the drive's location, gave him access to destroy evidence. He has people everywhere—judges, cops, prosecutors. Which means..."
Adrian finishes for her. "Which means he'll walk free."
"We can hold him seventy-two hours maximum on the assault charges. After that, his lawyers will have him out." Agent Chen looks at me sadly. "I'm sorry. We'll do everything we can, but without that evidence..."
She leaves.
Adrian and I stare at each other.
"Seventy-two hours," I whisper. "Then he comes for me again."
"No." Adrian's voice is steel. "I won't let him."
"How? You can't protect me forever. You can't—"
My phone buzzes on the bedside table. A text from an unknown number:
Three days, Elena. Then I'm free. And when I am, I'm coming for you and everyone you love. Starting with Adrian. Hope you enjoyed your little rebellion. It's over now. You're mine. You'll always be mine. See you soon, baby. —D
Below the text, a photo.
Damian in his jail cell, smiling at the camera.
Holding up a sign that reads: 72 HOURS