Chapter 3
1171 Words
Isabella had to go. even in the event of death. even if it meant launching herself into the unknown with only a glimmer of hope and extreme desperation.
Because remainin? It was worse to stay. Her body was already marked by innumerable bruises, and each second spent within the Blackwood mansion was another moment of agony, suffocation, and torment. There, she was nothing. Just a possession. Trapped beneath Lucas night after night, subject to his merciless appetite and unwavering control, a plaything to be used at his whim. He continued to take until she had nothing left except the broken fragments of her former self.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
The real horror came when her body began to change.
The exhaustion. The nausea. The moments when food made her stomach churn, when dizziness made her weak. She had ignored it at first, dismissing it as stress, as the toll of surviving him.
Until the truth hit her like a death sentence.
She was pregnant.
Lucas Blackwood's child was growing inside her.
Her hands were shaking as she glanced at the pregnancy test, her heart thumping so hard she felt it may burst through her ribs. She was completely engulfed in terror, and since she was aware. She recognized Lucas, what he could accomplish. He would never let her go if he ever found out. She would be his lifelong property. Her physique. Her spirit. Her child. She needed to flee...run. She was afraid he would try to force her to get an abortion, so she ran for her life and didn't want to know what he thought of her being pregnant.
Before it was too late, she had to vanish. For her child. for herself.
* * *
There was no getting away from Lucas. But there was nothing she could do. Isabella had endured weeks of silent suffering, her body still imprisoned while her mind toiled ceaselessly. Every aspect of the mansion's security system, including the guards' shifts, the surveillance cameras' blind spots, and the doors that creaked and those that didn't, was committed to memory by her. She had meticulously planned out her escape. However, she was aware that preparation was insufficient.
Lucas was observing. Never stops observing. Thus, she had performed her part flawlessly. She had acted as though she was broken, submissive, and defeated. She had swallowed her comments, kept her head down, and let the bruises go away without objecting. Lucas thought he had won because of her.
But deep inside?
She was waiting.
Waiting for the moment she could finally be free.
That moment was tonight.
A storm raged outside, the wind howling through the trees, sheets of rain hammering against the glass. The world itself was restless, mirroring the storm inside her. This was it.
Slipping through the dimly lit corridors, Isabella's pulse thundered in her chest.
Every step felt like a risk.
Every breath, a mistake.
She could hear the distant voices of the guards, their laughter carried through the halls as they sought shelter from the storm. She had timed this perfectly.
She needed to move. A familiar shape stepped out of the shadows at the rear entrance.
Martha.
The only person who had been helpful to her in this desolate location was the elderly housemaid. who had snuck food to her when Lucas had left her starving, and who had spoken consoling words while no one was listening. Martha's voice was almost audible above the raging rain outside as she put a large, thick cloak into Isabella's grasp, her aged hands shaking. With worry and hope in her eyes, she said, "Are you sure about this, child?" Isabella gave a nod. There was no going back. After hesitating, Martha stuffed a roll of cash into Isabella's hand. Isabella's gaze expanded.
"Martha, I-"
"Go." Martha's voice was firm, urgent. "Before he realizes what you've done."
Isabella's fingers tightened around the wad of cash, her only lifeline to freedom. The weight of the moment pressed down on her chest, but she didn't let it break her. There was no time for emotions.
There was no time to hesitate. The back of her eyelids burned with tears, but she forced herself to focus and breathe. She gave a single nod, and slipped out the door. Outside The cold felt harsh and unpleasant, like a slap on her flesh. The rain continued to pour in heavy, unrelenting sheets, immersing her instantaneously as the storm continued. The taste of salt on her lips blended with the water that trickled from her hair and down her face. However, she continued.
She took off running. As she ran down the dark, empty streets, her bare feet banged against the pavement and splashed through puddles. Her surroundings became hazy, with lamps flickering, shadows extending, and the wind howling like a beast behind her.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, her lungs burning.
Don't stop.
She had mapped out a route in her mind-a way to escape without being seen, a path through the alleys where the cameras didn't reach. But now, with her heart hammering and adrenaline roaring through her veins, doubt sank its claws into her.
What if they were actually pursuing her right now?
What if- Lucas.
She felt a chill of fear at the mere thought of him. If Lucas discovered...If he managed to catch her... She would not have another opportunity. She forced her legs to move more quickly as she pushed the terror away. She didn't care that her wet clothing was holding on to her body and slowing her down. Despite the wind, the rain, and the pain in her limbs, she pushed forward. because she wasn't merely pursuing her own interests.
She was frantically trying to save her life. Furthermore, she would sooner perish in this storm than be reclaimed by Lucas Blackwood. The wet streets were illuminated by flashes of lightning. Her heart hammering in her ears, she ducked into an alleyway.
She just had to make it far enough.
Far enough that Lucas Blackwood would never find her again.
* * *
There was a dangerous silence back at the Blackwood mansion. Lucas entered Isabella's room and looked around the empty room with keen eyes. His jaw clicked as he took in the minute, unnoticeable details, but his countenance was still unreadable.
The doors to the closet-open. The mirror in the washroom was broken. The bed was freezing. He rolled his fingers into a fist. Then it hit me. She had left. Controlled, too controlled, his heartbeat slowed. Then he pivoted. His cold look made the soldiers beyond the door tense. "Where is she?" He spoke in a cool, lethal tone. The men looked at each other anxiously.
One of them took a deep breath. "Sir, we-" The room shook as Lucas's fist crashed against the wall.
The air turned thick with unspoken danger.
His voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
"Find her. Now."
Because Isabella belonged to him.
And no one escape Lucas Blackwood. NO ONE.
- Writer
