Chapter Eight : The Rescue
1465 Words
The celebration buzzed with life, laughter echoing in every corner of the grand ballroom. Flashing lights, clinking glasses, and the hum of music masked the tension quietly creeping over Alex Kingston. He should have been enjoying himself, basking in the success of the event, but an uneasy feeling crawled beneath his skin.
He glanced around, no sign of Isabella.
His jaw clenched slightly. He tried to shake the feeling off, convincing himself she was probably freshening up or taking a break. But as the seconds ticked on, and he still didn’t see her, his gut twisted tighter.
He spotted a waiter passing by and flagged him down. “Have you seen my wife?”
The waiter blinked, then nodded. “Yes, sir. I saw her a few minutes ago down the hallway near the guest rooms.”
Alex didn’t wait for more. He turned, his strides growing longer, quicker. A sharp sting pierced through his foot mid-stride. He hissed, halting and looking down,an earring glinted under the corridor light. He bent and picked it up.
His heart stopped.
He recognized it immediately, it was Isabella’s. He'd seen her wear it countless times.
Panic kicked in. A soft sound reached his ears, muffled, familiar. His heart thundered. Without hesitation, he ran toward the sound. His hand hit the door handle and he shoved it open with force.
The room spun.
Time froze.
His breath caught in his throat.
There, on the bed, lay Isabella, half-naked, vulnerable,her eyes squeezed shut, her body tense. Hovering above her was a hefty man, pants halfway down, frozen mid-act, his face twisting in shock as the door crashed open.
Alex’s fury exploded.
“Get the f*ck away from her!” he roared, grabbing the nearest chair and smashing it against the man's back with a sickening crunch. The man groaned, stumbling.
He lunged forward, pulling a knife from his coat and rushing at Alex. But Alex moved faster. He twisted the man’s wrist until the knife clattered to the floor. With another shout, Alex grabbed a table and rammed it against the man’s head.
Silence followed.
The man slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Outside the room, people gathered, alarmed by the chaos. Alex didn’t care. His only focus was Isabella.
She lay there, still and shaken.
Alex pulled off his coat and gently covered her exposed body. He scooped her into his arms, her frame limp and frighteningly cold. Her makeup was ruined, stained with tears. Her breathing shallow.
He didn’t say a word as he carried her out. His grip was tight, protective. The crowd parted in stunned silence.
Once outside, he placed her carefully in the car and slammed the door shut behind him. His fingers trembled as he dialed number after number.
“Get the family doctor to the mansion, immediately,” he barked into the phone. “And bring the bastard. I want him alive. Tie him, torture him, do whatever it takes, but I want the truth.”
The mansion gates opened before him like a fortress awaiting its king.
He carried Isabella inside, noting how light she felt in his arms. Too light.
She looked like a broken doll, pale, fragile, her veins slightly tinted green from the drug in her system.
He laid her on the couch just as the doctor arrived. Alex stood back, arms folded, his jaw tense as the man examined every inch of her. He watched as the doctor checked her heartbeat, her pupils, her breathing.
“She’ll recover,” the doctor said finally. “But she’s been drugged. I need to flush it out of her system. Keep her warm. Keep her safe.”
Alex nodded silently.
His phone buzzed.
It was one of his men. “Sir, we reviewed the CCTV footage. Your sister, Celeste,gave your wife a drink earlier. That’s when things changed. She started acting dizzy, then walked off after speaking to a woman. No footage inside the hallway. The suspect still won’t speak.”
A chill passed through Alex.
“Make him talk,” he said coldly. “Break his bones if you must.”
He ended the call and turned, noticing the rest of the family arriving. Eyes wide, lips whispering in corners. Celeste stood among them, tense.
Alex moved toward her.
Step by step.
She looked away.
“Celeste,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “What do you know about this?”
Her eyes welled with tears instantly. “Brother…why would you accuse me like this? I, I don’t know anything, I swear. I didn’t even speak to her all night. Vinnie’s my witness.”
Vinnie hesitated before nodding. “She didn’t speak to Isabella during the party.”
Alex’s eyes scanned them both. Cold. Calculating. Reading their lies like an open book. A smirk tugged at his lips, dark and knowing. He said nothing more and walked away.
Later that night, he carried Isabella to their bedroom. Gently, he changed her into one of his large shirts. It swallowed her frame. She looked like a child in it, but comfortable.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face before leaving the room.
Downstairs, the warehouse was dimly lit. The hefty man was tied to a chair, blood crusted around his mouth and nose. Alex walked in, picked up a steel rod, and struck his back, hard.
“You have ten seconds to speak or I break every bone in your body.”
But before he could strike again, his phone rang.
He answered.
“Sir…madam is awake.”
He dropped the rod and rushed out.
Back at the mansion, Alex opened the door to find the bed empty.
His breath caught in his throat.
Panic.
Then, a sound.
Water running.
The bathroom.
He waited…and waited.
Thirty minutes passed.
Still, the water ran.
His nerves frayed.
Inside, Isabella sat curled on the floor of the shower, hot water cascading over her. Her arms were red from scrubbing, trying desperately to erase his touch,that man’s touch, from her skin.
Her mind spun, the images replaying like a horror film she couldn’t turn off.
She didn’t hear the door open.
Alex walked in and froze at the sight of her.
Soaked. Shivering. Asleep on the floor.
He wrapped her in a towel and carried her out, placing her gently on the bed.
As he turned to leave, her voice , barely audible, stopped him.
“Why do you hate me?”
Alex froze.
He didn’t have an answer. His throat tightened. He left without a word, walking out to the balcony.
Night had swallowed the sky. He sipped a drink, thoughts haunting him.
Did he hate her? Or was he just afraid of what he was beginning to feel?
He remembered her quiet strength. Her refusal to fight back when others mocked her. Her kindness. Her silence.
She had never asked him for a thing.
And yet he had painted her a gold-digger in his mind.
Was he wrong?
He was still deep in thought when a scream pierced the night.
He ran back inside, heart pounding.
Isabella sat on the bed, eyes wide, staring at her phone.
“Bella?” he whispered, approaching her.
She didn’t respond.
He grabbed the phone from her hands, and froze.
On the screen was a photo.
A horrifying photo.
The man. On top of Isabella.
A message attached:
“This picture goes to the media by morning".
Alex’s jaw locked. His blood ran cold.
Isabella broke down, sobs shaking her small frame.
Alex immediately moved closer, pulling her into his arms. “We’ll handle this,” he murmured. “You’re not alone. I’m with you, always.”
Isabella melted into his embrace, her body seeking the warmth and safety only he could offer. His touch calmed her, his scent grounded her.
He slowly tilted her chin up, wiping her tears.
Their eyes locked.
A spark ignited.
She closed her eyes as his lips touched hers, softly at first, then deeper, more desperate.
It wasn’t just a kiss.
It was pain. Passion. Healing.
Clothes melted away. Hands explored scars and softness, claiming what the world had tried to break.
The night consumed them.
For once,they weren't two broken people.
They were whole.
Together.
Morning sunlight crept through the curtains. Alex stirred, the weight of her body nestled against him. A rare smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the night.
Peace.
It felt, strange.
Beside him, Isabella stirred. Her eyes blinked open, and for a moment, she smiled.
Then her expression changed.
She picked up her phone, and froze.
Her body went stiff.
Alex noticed instantly. “Bella?” he asked, sitting up.
She didn’t speak.
He moved closer. “What’s wrong?”
Tears gathered in her eyes as she whispered, “They released it.”
- Writer
