Chapter 82

"You can't be serious," Isabella whispers, her voice trembling as much as mine.

My pulse races wildly. Fear claws at my chest, making each breath a struggle. If I thought Damian Slade—or Reaper, whatever the hell he called himself—kidnapping us was bad, I was wrong. His plan was far worse.

"Oh, I am." Damian smirks, the cold amusement in his eyes sending ice through my veins. "Your father should never have crossed me. Neither should Ethan. It's time for my revenge."

He'd called Ethan right in front of us and forced him to choose. The sickening truth still hadn't sunk in—only one of us would leave this place alive.

The weight of it crushes me. Fear twists inside me, clouding my thoughts. My face throbs from Damian's earlier blow, my lip split and swollen. I focus on that pain instead of the horror looming over us.

"Nothing to say, Sophia?" Damian taunts, his smirk never fading.

I look away. Words fail me. This wasn't my first brush with death, but Damian's madness made survival feel impossible.

I shake myself internally. No. I refuse to think like that. I have Liam. I have a baby on the way. For them, I will fight.

"Maybe you're afraid Ethan will pick your sister," he muses. "Is that what's eating at you?"

"She's not my sister!" I snap, anger flaring.

His laugh is hollow. "No matter. This will be entertaining. I want to watch your ex-husband shatter. Whoever he chooses, the other dies—and the guilt will destroy him." With that, he leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.

"What do we do?" Isabella whispers.

I don’t answer.

Because Damian was right. I was afraid. Ethan had always chosen Isabella. That wouldn’t change now.

I had to escape. My parents would move heaven and earth to find me, but I couldn’t wait. If I stayed, I was dead.

Gritting my teeth, I twist against the ropes. My wrists burn, the fibers digging deeper with every movement. Blood trickles down my skin, but I don’t stop.

"What are you doing?" Isabella stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

"Escaping," I hiss.

"But Ethan will come for us."

I scoff. "Wake up, Isabella. If it comes down to it, he’ll pick you. I have a son and a baby to think about. I’m not waiting around to die because our father was stupid enough to sign a deal with the devil."

Her mouth falls open. "How dare you—"

"I don’t care what you think," I snap. "Just shut up and let me focus."

She glares but stays silent.

Minutes pass. My hands shake, my skin raw and bleeding. It’s no use. I need another plan.

Swallowing my pride, I turn to her. "I need your help."

Her smirk is infuriating. "Now you want my help?"

"Are you going to be useful or not?"

She hesitates, then sighs. "What do you need?"

"If we turn our chairs back-to-back, maybe we can untie each other."

She nods, shifting her weight. The chair scrapes softly against the floor. After several attempts, we manage to position ourselves.

My fingers fumble with her knots. Every second stretches, the fear of Damian returning choking me.

Finally, the ropes loosen. I yank my hands free, then quickly untie my legs. My legs wobble, numb from lack of circulation.

Isabella stands, rubbing her wrists. "Now what?"

"Now we run."

I head for the door, but she doesn’t follow.

"What if Ethan comes and we're gone?"

I whirl on her. "If they find me missing, they’ll kill you on the spot. Stay if you want. I’m leaving."

She hesitates, then hurries after me.

The door creaks as I peek outside. No guards. We slip out into a junkyard—endless hiding spots, but no clear exit.

"We need to find a way out," I mutter.

We move silently, sticking to shadows. But the blare of an alarm shatters the quiet.

My heart stops.

They know.

"Go!" I grab Isabella’s arm, dragging her forward.

We sprint blindly, fear driving us. Then—

I crash into a solid figure.

Damien’s enforcer.

His grin is vicious as he raises a gun. "Did you really think you’d get away?"

I lift my chin. "Yes."

He steps closer, the barrel aimed at my chest. "Maybe I’ll just kill you now and spare Ethan the choice."

I don’t hesitate.

My knee slams into his groin. He howls, dropping the gun. I snatch it up, flick off the safety, and fire.

Once. Twice.

His screams echo.

But so do shouts. Footsteps.

"Run!" I shove Isabella behind a wrecked car as bullets fly.

She’s shaking, her voice high with panic. "This is your fault! If I die—"

A shadow moves beside us.

I barely have time to react before Isabella shoves me aside.

A gunshot rings out.