Who Are You Again?

Chapter 5

The basement is quiet except for the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance. The walls, cold and unfeeling, seem to press in on me, suffocating, as if they know I don’t belong here. The air is thick with the scent of damp concrete, old dust, and something metallic—maybe rust, maybe something worse.

I sit on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling, waiting. Listening.

Then—tap, tap.

A sound near the vent.

I move quickly, pressing my ear against the cool metal grate. A pair of green eyes, sharp and familiar, appear behind the slats. My breath hitches. Kellin.

He leans in, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s set. Three days from now, we’re leaving.”

A chill rushes down my spine. Three days. My pulse pounds in my ears. “How?”

“Private plane. France. A contact of mine is handling the details. You just stay close to Jonah, keep playing the part. But when the time comes, you run. Do you understand me?”

I nod, swallowing the fear clawing at my throat. “And Jonah?”

Kellin’s expression darkens. “We make sure he never finds you again.”

I should feel relieved. But all I feel is the weight of what’s coming.

I have to be perfect. I have to convince Jonah I’m still the obedient, broken woman he thinks he owns.

Because if I fail—he will kill me.

But there’s one problem.

Anessa is watching.

And she isn’t fooled.

---

Three nights later.

The estate is quiet. Shadows stretch long and eerie across the marble floors as I step softly down the hall, my heart hammering so loudly I’m sure someone will hear it.

A faint knock.

Kellin’s signal.

Showtime.

I move fast, slipping into the hidden crawlspace behind the old storage wall. The passage is narrow, the air thick with dust and neglect. Every movement sends up tiny clouds of debris, making it harder to breathe. Kellin is ahead of me, moving swiftly, every motion controlled, precise. He knows exactly where to go.

The old maintenance exit is just ahead. I can see the rusted outline of the vent cover—our way out.

Kellin reaches up, carefully working the screws loose. He moves methodically, steady—

Then—clang.

The vent cover slips from his grasp.

The noise is deafening in the silence.

For a heartbeat, nothing happens.

Then—

“She’s escaping!”

Anessa’s shriek cuts through the night like a blade.

The estate doors burst open. Flashlights sweep the grounds. Footsteps thunder closer.

Jonah’s voice, cold and lethal. “Find her.”

Kellin shoves me forward. “Run.”

We scramble out of the vent, the cold night air slamming into me like a shockwave. I gasp, my lungs burning. The trees are just ahead. If we can make it to the tree line, we might have a chance.

Then—

A gunshot.

Kellin stumbles.

“No!” I catch him as he drops to one knee, his hand pressed against his side. Blood seeps through his shirt, dark and spreading.

Jonah’s voice is closer now, dangerously calm. “Bring her back alive. Kill him if you have to.”

My mind races. We can’t outrun them. I can’t carry him—

Then—movement from the shadows.

A figure emerges from the trees. Tall. Controlled. The moonlight glints off the barrel of a gun.

Two shots.

The guards collapse before they can even scream.

The stranger steps forward, his voice smooth and steady. “No time for questions. Come with me if you want to live.”

Jonah’s men are closing in.

I tighten my grip on Kellin. The stranger moves effortlessly to help us.

More shouts. More footsteps.

Then we’re running—into the trees, into the darkness.

Disappearing into the night.

The wind howls through the dense trees, biting at my skin as we run. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my legs burning with exhaustion, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Kellin stumbles against me, his strength fading fast. His blood is warm against my fingers where I press down to slow the bleeding. The stranger leading us moves effortlessly, barely making a sound as he navigates the forest. Every now and then, he glances back, his gaze sharp and calculating.

Finally, after what feels like miles, we reach a clearing. A sleek, black SUV waits for us, engine running. The stranger opens the back door, urgency flickering in his eyes.

“Get in.”

I hesitate. “Who are you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he motions toward Kellin, who is now barely conscious. “He doesn’t have time for hesitation. In the car. Now.”

I don’t argue. I help Kellin inside, climbing in beside him as the stranger shuts the door and slides into the driver’s seat. The moment the locks click, he speeds off into the night, leaving the estate and Jonah’s men behind.

Only then does he finally speak.

“I was sent by your grandmother.”

I stare at him, the words not quite sinking in. “My—what?”

He glances at me in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. “Vivienne Devereaux.”

The name slams into me like a force of nature.

Vivienne Devereaux.

A name I haven’t heard in years. A name I thought was nothing more than a fading memory.

“My grandmother is dead.” My voice is flat, uncertain.

The stranger smirks slightly. “Far from it. She’s been looking for you.”

My mind spins. I know almost nothing about my grandmother, only whispers from my childhood—stories of a woman so powerful, so wealthy, that even the elite bowed at her feet. But she had been absent for most of my life, distant, a ghost lingering on the edges.

And now, she’s the one pulling me from the hell I’ve been trapped in?

I don’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified.

Kellin groans beside me, his head lolling against my shoulder. Panic tightens in my chest. “He needs help.”

The stranger nods. “I’ve got him.”

Fifteen minutes later, we pull into an abandoned airstrip. A private jet waits on the tarmac, engines humming softly. The moment the SUV stops, the stranger jumps out and opens the back door.

I hesitate again. “Why should I trust you?”

He meets my gaze, steady, unwavering. “Because your grandmother trusts me.”

That shouldn’t be enough. But right now, it’s all I have.

We hurry onto the jet. Inside, the cabin is warm, luxurious, and eerily quiet compared to the chaos we just escaped.

The stranger lays Kellin down on one of the plush seats, grabbing a medical kit from a compartment. He moves with practiced precision, pulling off Kellin’s shirt to assess the damage.

I swallow hard at the sight of all the blood.

“It’s a clean shot,” the stranger mutters, disinfecting the wound. Kellin groans in pain, barely conscious. “No major organs hit. He’ll make it.”

Relief washes through me so intensely my legs almost give out.

As the jet’s engines roar to life, the stranger finishes stitching Kellin up and turns back to me.

“Get comfortable,” he says. “We’ll be in Paris by morning.”

I stare at him, my mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. “Who are you?”

This time, he actually smirks. “Call me Lucas.”

And with that, the past I’ve known is gone.

And a new future begins.