CHAPTER THREE
976 Words
The silence left in Zane’s wake was deafening.
May sat frozen on the edge of the ornate bed, her knuckles white as she gripped the silk covers. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat a warning bell. What the hell had she just walked into?
You’ll be my wife by morning.
The words haunted the room like a ghost.
She rose to her feet slowly, the weight of the wedding dress dragging her down. Her mind screamed run a voice so loud and desperate she almost thought it wasn’t her own.
She turned toward the door he’d exited from. Locked. Of course it was. She checked it anyway, tugging at the handle with growing frustration. “Damn it,” she whispered.
The windows were sealed tight, reinforced glass. No way to break it without drawing attention. Whoever had designed this place wanted to make sure whoever was inside stayed inside.
But she wasn’t going to be trapped. Not like this.
She moved quickly now, checking drawers, the closet, even under the bed. Nothing useful. Just expensive clothes, useless lace, and silence. Not even a phone.
She ripped off the veil, then kicked off the
heels. If she was going to run, she’d do it barefoot.
The bathroom.
She darted toward it, flicking the lights on. No window. No second exit. But there was a sharp silver hairpin lying by the sink. She grabbed it.
“I’m not going to marry that man,” she told her reflection, her voice a harsh whisper. “No matter what they say. I’m not Mia. I won’t play her part.”
Taking the pin, she returned to the bedroom and moved toward the heavy door. She kneeled beside the lock, her hands trembling as she tried to fit the pin into the old-fashioned keyhole. It wasn’t one of those modern, electronic systems—it was a manual lock.
Good.
She’d seen enough YouTube tutorials, enough spy thrillers. She could fake confidence, couldn’t she?
A soft click. Then nothing.
She cursed under her breath and tried again, heart pounding.
Another click—then the knob shifted slightly.
Yes.
She slowly opened the door a c***k, peeking out. A long hallway stretched in both directions, dimly lit by golden sconces. No guards. No sound.
She slipped out, moving quickly but silently down the hall. Her bare feet made no noise on the cold marble floors. Her dress, though a burden, trailed behind her like smoke.
She had no idea where she was some kind of mansion? A private estate?
Every corridor looked the same: polished, expensive, suffocating.
Then she heard voices.
She pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath. Two men were speaking around the corner, their tone casual but guarded.
“…she’s not going to run. They never do.”
“You say that, but remember what the
sister did?”
“She won’t get far. Zane made sure of it.”
Her blood turned cold.
They were watching her. Or expected her to try and escape.
She backed away slowly, retracing her steps. A narrow staircase caught her eye tucked behind a velvet curtain, half-hidden. She darted for it, slipping through like a shadow.
Down the stairs she went, one hand on the wall for balance. Her dress snagged on the railing, but she yanked it free, not caring if it tore.
She reached the bottom.
It was darker here colder. Less polished.
The servant’s quarters?
She moved quickly now, slipping past closed doors and empty hallways until she reached what looked like a back exit. A single steel door, chipped and worn.
She lunged for the handle.
It opened.
Fresh air hit her like a slap.
She gasped and stepped outside into the night, blinking against the darkness. There was a garden, high hedges, a stone path leading into blackness.
Run.
She didn’t think. She just ran.
The gravel bit into her feet, the dress whipping against her legs. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t stop. Trees blurred past her, shadows stretched and twisted.
She could hear footsteps now men yelling in the distance. They knew.
Keep going.
Her legs screamed, her feet bleeding, but she pushed harder. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t care.
A fence loomed in the distance. Tall. Iron. With barbed wire curling like a crown.
She slowed only for a second, scanning the sides then spotted the corner where a section was bent, likely from age or force. Just wide enough.
She dropped to her knees, crawling through the gap, the wire tearing into her skin. She winced but didn’t cry out.
On the other side: trees. Thick and wild. A forest.
She bolted into it.
Branches clawed at her arms. Thorns ripped the dress. She kept running.
Then
A light.
Headlights.
She stumbled toward the road, the hum of an engine drawing closer. She waved her arms desperately.
The car slowed.
She burst out of the trees, tears streaking down her face, her body scratched and shaking.
The window rolled down. A man in a black cap leaned out. “Miss? Are you okay?”
“I need help,” she gasped. “Please. Please take me anywhere but here.”
He hesitated. “You’re bleeding did someone hurt you?”
She nodded. “I don’t have time to explain. Just please. I’ll pay you anything.”
He opened the door. “Get in.”
She climbed in, slamming the door shut just as a distant voice shouted from the
woods behind her.
The man gunned the engine, and the car peeled away into the night.
May didn’t look back.
She couldn’t.
Not yet.
But even as she escaped, something in her gut told her
Zane Williams wasn’t the kind of man to let go of what he claimed.
And she had just made herself his greatest obsession.
- Writer
