THE DON'S CAPTIVE MISTRESS

Let Me

HAZEL

He did not just say that....?

My breath hitched. My lips parted, but no sound came out. What could I possibly say?

Tears blurred my vision again, spilling down the sides of my face. Axel watched them fall, then stood up.

“Untie her.”

Luca moved behind me, cutting through the rope. The fibres snapped, and my wrists dropped limply to my sides, marked by deep, angry red grooves.

Axel didn’t look at me again. He just turned toward the men, his voice cold and final.

“Next time,” he said, “she doesn’t leave the house without permission.”

His tone was quiet, but it silenced everyone around him. No one dared speak. Then he walked away, calm, slow, like he hadn’t just let this happen, like it hadn’t been his order all along.

And I stayed there on the ground, shaking, my wrists throbbing, my body aching, but none of that compared to what was happening inside me.

Because I finally understood. He didn’t come to save me.....He wanted me broken.

I don’t know how long I stayed down there, still crying as everybody left. But by the time I finally raised my head, the only one standing there was Nico.

I couldn’t read the look in his eyes. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but I didn’t care to find out. The only thing he said was,

“Come on. Let’s go inside.”

I tried to stand. My head hurt, my legs hurt, my feet hurt, everything hurt. When I stumbled, he came and helped me up, steadying me.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

I told him the truth. “I don’t know.”

My voice cracked. I felt purged, hollowed out.

He took my hand and placed it on the back of his neck, supporting most of my weight as I limped forward. He started leading me toward the house, slow and awkward.

Frustration clawed up my chest.

“Why don’t you just carry me?” I snapped.

He hesitated. “I really don’t know how to handle you right now. I don’t know if he would approve of me carrying you....”

“So it’s okay for me to be held at gunpoint and practically dragged through the whole forest,” I said, shaking my head at the absurdity, “but it’s not okay to be carried inside the house?”

He didn’t reply.

For what felt like years, we made our way to the house. The moment we reached the back door, I saw Angela standing there. She had the door open, waiting and she was looking at me with a sadness and pity I had never seen from her.

Angela never looked like that. Never.... Especially not at me.

I couldn’t keep eye contact. I tried to look away, but when we got closer, I saw the remnants of tears in her eyes, maybe actual tears. Angela was a tough woman. I had never seen her like this. So I knew I must have been worse than I imagined.

“What are you doing?” she asked Nico sharply. “Why don’t you carry her upstairs, can't you see she can't walk on her own?”

“That’s what I said,” I muttered, trying to put some attitude in my voice, enough to make Angela snap at me or Nico. But nobody said anything.

Instead, Nico just grunted as he slipped an arm under my legs and lifted me, carrying me up the stairs with Angela close behind us.

The moment he set me on the bed, Nico walked to the door and stood guard inside the room. Angela’s eyes were on me, like she was fighting the urge to cry. That alone told me everything.... I must have looked destroyed.

I tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out. So I whispered the only thing I could manage:

“Can I have some water?”

“Of course.....oh my god, of course.” Angela hurried out.

She came back moments later with a basket full of things, towels, bottles, small jars, and, of course, a bottle of water. She opened it for me, placed it in my hands.

I drank the whole thing in seconds, desperate, while Angela just stood there silently.

Then she exhaled shakily. “Okay. I’m going to prepare a bath for you. I'll put something in there to help you with your…”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. She just gestured weakly at my whole appearance and disappeared into the bathroom.

I stared at the ceiling.

Numb. Empty.

A few minutes later, Angela returned.

“Nico,” she said firmly, “okay, you can go.”

“I can’t leave her,” Nico said.

“So you want to see her naked? If you wanted to protect her, you should have protected her before she was hurt. So please, leave the room.” Angela snapped, all steel again.

Nico hesitated, jaw tight. “Okay. I’ll be right in front of the door if you need anything.”

Angela didn’t answer. He stepped out. The door closed.

Then Angela came to me, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

“Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get you into the bath.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

My throat still felt scraped raw from crying, from screaming, from begging. So I just let her help me up. My legs wobbled the moment they touched the ground, and she slipped her arm around my waist, steadying me with a firm grip that felt more like safety than anything else I’d felt all day.

The walk to the bathroom felt like miles. When we entered, warm steam curled into the air. Angela had filled the tub almost to the brim, petals floating on the surface, something minty and herbal drifting up from the water.

“It’ll help with the bruising,” she said quietly.

I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

She didn’t respond, not verbally, just nodded once, her jaw tight, her eyes glossy again like she was forcing herself not to look directly at my injuries.

“Let me help you undress,” she said gently.

Angela didn’t wait for me to respond. She slipped one arm behind my back and the other under my elbow, guiding me with a firmness that left no room for argument.

“Hold onto me,” she said quietly. Not kind. Not gentle. Just instructions.

I did.

She helped me step out of my clothes, pausing only when I winced. Whenever I made a sound, she didn’t ask questions. She simply adjusted her hold, her hands steady and sure. Angela never hesitated, not once. That, more than anything, told me she’d seen worse. Or maybe she was used to cleaning up after Axel’s decisions.