At their mercy
1073 Words
A shiver of pure terror raced down my spine.
I forced myself to move, to think fast. The hallway stretched before me like an endless tunnel, the carpet swallowing the sound of my hurried steps. My heartbeat pounded against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat matching the rush of adrenaline flooding my veins.
Don’t run. Not yet. Running too soon would only draw attention. I straightened my posture, keeping my strides measured, my expression calm. I lowered my gaze just enough to appear obedient, unthreatening—like any other woman who had played this game and walked out unscathed.
One step. Another.
The elevator was close—just a few more feet.
The guard at the end of the hall stiffened, his gaze flicking to his earpiece. I could hear the faint crackle of a voice on the other end, sharp, urgent.
Then his eyes snapped to me.
Recognition dawned.
Shit.
I lunged for the button, slamming it with my palm. The guard barked something—an order, a demand, I didn’t know.
All I knew was that he was moving.
Fast.
The elevator doors slid open, golden light spilling into the hallway. I threw myself inside, hammering the ground floor button, my hands shaking so badly I almost missed.
The guard’s heavy footsteps pounded closer.
The doors inched shut.
So slow.
Too slow.
A flash of movement—his hand shot out, fingers curling around the metal just before it sealed.
No.
I reacted without thinking.
My heel slammed down on his wrist with all the force I could muster.
He roared in pain, jerking back, and in that split second of distraction, the doors snapped shut.
The elevator lurched, descending.
I staggered against the wall, chest heaving, my head spinning so fast I thought I might faint. My palms were slick with sweat, my knees weak. I clenched my fists, forcing my mind to focus.
The ground floor. I just had to make it to the ground floor. Then outside. Then—
The elevator jolted.
A sinking feeling coiled in my stomach.
It stopped.
Too soon.
The panel above the doors blinked—42nd floor.
Not the ground floor.
I barely had time to react before the doors slid open.
I turned—
And ran straight into someone.
Tall. Broad. A tailored suit.
The scent of expensive cologne clung to the air, mingling with something sharper.
I stumbled back, heart slamming against my ribs. My hands curled into fists, my breath hitched.
His dark eyes flicked to mine. Calculating. Cold.
Recognition flared.
Not a guard. But worse.
The man who knew Zavi.
I ducked my head, lowering my gaze like a proper, obedient woman would. My hands trembled as I adjusted my veil, pulling it tighter, hoping—praying—he wouldn’t look too closely.
I stepped aside, moving past him.
"Wait."
The single word cut through the air like a blade.
I froze.
Every instinct screamed at me to keep walking, to ignore him, to run. But running would only confirm suspicion.
I turned, slow, careful, every movement controlled. My fingers curled in the fabric of my dress.
His gaze raked over me, sharp and assessing.
"You look familiar."
I forced my lips into the softest smile I could muster. "I have one of those faces," I murmured, voice steady despite the thundering of my pulse.
A beat of silence.
His eyes lingered on my hands. On the slight tremble I couldn’t quite hide.
I swallowed hard.
He took a step closer.
The elevator doors began to slide shut.
His gaze flicked to them, then back to me.
Then—
He smirked.
Not kind.
Not friendly.
A smirk that sent ice through my veins.
He stepped back, gesturing toward the hallway. "After you," he said.
It wasn’t a suggestion.
It was a test.
If I left the elevator, I wouldn’t make it out of this hotel alive.
Think.
My nails dug into my palms. I tilted my head, feigning hesitancy. "Forgive me, sir," I murmured, keeping my voice soft, deferential, "but I was ordered to leave immediately. I would hate to upset your master."
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. Then something darker.
"Is that so?"
The elevator doors slid open again. Ground floor.
I moved before he could say another word.
Fast.
Out of the elevator, across the lobby, the exit in sight.
Too close.
Too far.
The moment my foot hit the pavement outside, I knew I was being watched.
The headlights of a sleek black car flashed, an engine revving.
Then a voice.
"THERE! GET HER!"
The guards were coming.
I turned. Ran.
The city swallowed me whole—lights, shadows, bodies. The rush of cars, the roar of engines. My feet pounded against the pavement, my veil whipping behind me. I shoved past people, ignoring their curses, their confused shouts.
A sharp crack—
A gunshot.
Too close.
I veered left, darting down a side alley. My breath burned in my throat, my pulse wild. My body screamed at me to stop, to slow down, but I couldn’t. Not now.
The alley opened up to a dead-end courtyard.
No.
I whirled, searching—
There. A fence.
High. But climbable.
I lunged for the ledge, hoisting myself up. My fingers scraped against rough brick, my foot slipping—
"She’s trapped!"
Voices. Footsteps.
I pushed harder. My arms ached, my chest heaved.
A gun fired.
The bullet ricocheted off the metal railing, inches from my hand.
I flung myself over.
Fell.
The ground rushed up. Pain exploded through my ankle as I hit the pavement hard. A sharp cry ripped from my throat, but I bit it back, forcing myself onto my feet.
Limping. Running.
A street. Headlights.
I turned—
And saw him.
Wallace.
Standing beside the open door of a black car, arms crossed. Expression unreadable.
I skidded to a stop. My breath came in ragged gasps, my vision swimming.
I took a step back.
His head tilted. "Done running?"
My chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts.
I turned—
But the other guards were already there.
Trapped.
Wallace sighed, shaking his head. "Should’ve known you’d cause trouble."
His hand clamped around my wrist.
I fought. Twisted.
But he was stronger.
Too strong.
He hauled me toward the car.
The door slammed shut behind me.
The engine roared.
The city blurred as we sped away.
And I knew.
I was never meant to escape.
- Writer
