CHAPTER 3
1911 Words
ARIA'S POV
I wake up; it's quiet. For a moment, I forgot where I am. The sheets are soft. The room smells faintly of soap and something like leather, maybe. And then memory crashes back in.
Wedding dress. Darkness. Dante’s voice. I sit up slowly, my heart thudding.
Morning lights came on at the edges of the curtains, turning the room grey instead of black. Someone has changed my clothes. I’m wearing cotton pyjamas now, pale blue, and very soft. I wrap my arms around myself.
He’s been careful, I guess.
What a way to spend a day after my wedding.I swing my legs off the bed and stand. The floor is warm. Of course it is. I pad to the door and try the handle. Locked. No surprise there.
I lean my forehead against the cool metal and breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, the way my therapist taught me years ago when my anxiety was bad. Think, Aria, think. I turn slowly, studying the room like it might answer me if I look hard enough.
No obvious weapons. No restraints. No bars on the windows—just reinforced glass. The camera in the corner blinks steadily.
“You don’t even pretend, ugh,” I murmur.
The bathroom offers no escape, but it gives me time. Time to steady my shaking hands. Time to notice details I missed last night.
There are extra towels folded neatly. A toothbrush still in its packaging. The soap smells expensive. Of course. He obviously planned for me to be here longer than a night. The door opens.I stiffen.
Dante doesn’t come in.
He sets the tray just inside the threshold and steps back, his gaze deliberately fixed on the floor.
“I’ll be outside,” he says. “If you need anything.”
The door closes softly.I stare at the food—eggs, fruit, toast, and a cup of tea already sweetened the way I like it.
My throat tightens. I eat mechanically, my mind already elsewhere because now I know something important. He doesn’t want me afraid, and that means fear isn’t the leverage here. After I finished, I waited. I tried to listen. I count the seconds between footsteps outside my door. On my third pass through the room, I notice the chair. It’s heavier than it looks. The door opens inward. I test the weight in my hands, then position myself carefully.
When Dante opens the door again, just a c***k—I shoved the chair forward with everything I have.
It slams into the door, hard enough to knock him back.I bolted through the hallway. It was longer than I expected and brighter, lined with doors I didn’t stop to think about. My feet slap against the floor, my breath tearing in and out of my chest without looking back. I make it almost to the corner before a hand closes around my wrist. It was strong and steady. “Aria,” Dante says, low and sharp. “Stop.” I twist, panic surging, and he releases me instantly, making me stumble. I catch myself against the wall, shaking.
“You could’ve hurt me,” he says, not angry—concerned. “You locked me in a room,” I snap.
“What did you expect?” He exhales slowly, like he’s choosing his next words with care.
“I expected you to try,” he admits. What did he mean by that? “I’m not your prisoner,” I say, my voice trembling despite myself.
“No,” he says quietly. “You’re my responsibility.”
“I didn’t want that.”
“I know.”
There’s a bit of silence between us, and then he does something I don’t expect at all. He takes off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. I was freezing.
The fabric is warm from his body, heavy, and grounding. The scent of him wraps around me—smoke, soap, something inevitably human.
“You’re cold,” he says simply.
He steps back immediately, hands at his sides, giving me space.
“I won’t lock you in again,” he continues. “But you can’t leave. Not yet.”
“Why?” I whisper.
His jaw tightens, and for the first time since I’ve known him, Dante looks tired.
“Because the moment you walk out that door,” he says softly, “he comes for you.”
My chest tightens.
“And I won’t let that happen.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
I only know that when I got back to the room and he turns away, he leaves the door unlocked.
———
Lucas sat in his childhood bedroom since dawn, jacket still on, phone clutched in his hand like it might vibrate with a miracle if he stared hard enough.
Aria had never disappeared before. Not once in her entire life. She forgot her keys. She forgot to eat. She apologized when other people bumped into her. Of course she didn’t just vanish on her wedding day.
“She would’ve called,” Lucas said hoarsely, breaking the silence that had settled over the house. “If she wanted space, she would’ve called me.”
Vivian stood near the window, arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring out at the driveway as if expecting Aria to appear there and apologetic.
“She was under a lot of pressure,” Vivian said weakly. “The wedding, the expectations… maybe she panicked.”
Lucas turned on her sharply. “Panicked enough to abandon her phone? Her passport? Me?”
Vivian flinched.
Richard sat at the dining table, shoulders slumped, staring at a half-cold cup of coffee he hadn’t touched.
“Sebastian says—” Richard began.
Lucas cut him off. “Sebastian says whatever benefits Sebastian.”
The front door opened before either parent could respond.
Sebastian Crowe walked in like he belonged there.
He had the perfect suit. Perfect composure. Eyes rimmed red just enough to look convincingly worried.
Lucas’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Sebastian said gently. “I thought it might help if we spoke together.”
Vivian rushed toward him. “Sebastian, have you heard anything?”
Sebastian caught her hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “Not yet. But I have people looking. Discreetly.”
Lucas watched every movement, Sebastian looked too calm and controlled.
“She didn’t leave you a note?” Sebastian asked Lucas, turning toward him now.
“No,” Lucas said flatly. “Did she leave you one?”
Sebastian hesitated — just a fraction of a second too long.
“No,” he said. “But she’d been… conflicted.”
Lucas felt something cold settle in his stomach.
“Conflicted how?” he asked.
Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She was overwhelmed. Doubting the marriage. Doubting herself.”
“That’s not true,” Lucas snapped. “She loved—”
He stopped himself.
Loved what?
The idea? The future? Or the man standing in front of him?
Sebastian’s voice softened. “She told me she felt trapped by expectations. That she sometimes wished she could disappear.”
The room went quiet.
Vivian covered her mouth, tears spilling over.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I knew it. I knew she was struggling.”
Lucas stared at Sebastian.
“You’re lying,” he said quietly.
Sebastian’s gaze flicked to him, sharp beneath the sympathy. “Excuse me?”
“You’re lying,” Lucas repeated, his voice steady now. “Because if my sister felt that way, she would’ve told me.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “With respect, Lucas, Aria and I shared things she didn’t share with others.”
Lucas took a step closer.
“You don’t know my sister,” he said. “You knew the version of her that smiled and agreed.”
Sebastian’s eyes darkened briefly — irritation slipping through the mask.
“I loved her,” he said. “I still do.”
Lucas let out a humorless laugh. “Funny. Because love doesn’t file missing-person reports that paint her as unstable.”
Vivian looked between them. “What does he mean?”
Lucas pulled out his phone and tossed it onto the table.
“Sebastian told the police Aria might’ve left voluntarily,” he said. “That she was emotionally distressed. That she might be a danger to herself.”
Vivian’s face drained of color.
Sebastian’s voice hardened. “I was trying to help.”
“You were trying to control the narrative,” Lucas shot back.
Richard finally spoke. “Lucas—”
“No,” Lucas said sharply. “Enough.”
He turned back to Sebastian. “Where were you when the lights went out? Weren't you just right in front of her?”
Sebastian didn’t answer.
Sebastian’s lips pressed together. “I don’t see how this is helpful.”
“That’s what I thought,” Lucas said.
He stepped back, breathing hard.
“There’s more,” Lucas added, his voice lower now. “I ran a background check on you this morning.”
Vivian gasped. “Lucas!”
Sebastian’s composure cracked — just barely.
“And?” Sebastian asked coolly.
“And I found three shell companies tied to your investments,” Lucas said. “Two of them flagged for illegal logistics. One connected to a trafficking investigation overseas.”
Sebastian’s eyes turned glacial.
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?” Lucas challenged. “Because one of those companies filed a transfer last week. Large sum. Same week you expedited the marriage.”
Vivian swayed, gripping the back of a chair.
“You told us he was clean,” she whispered to Sebastian.
“I am clean,” Sebastian snapped — then caught himself.
Too late for that. Lucas saw it.
“You didn’t just want to marry her,” Lucas said slowly. “You wanted to move her.”
Sebastian’s silence was answer enough.
Richard stood abruptly. “Get out.”
Sebastian looked stunned. “Richard—”
“Get out of my house,” Richard repeated, his voice shaking with fury.
Sebastian’s gaze flicked back to Lucas, sharp and calculating.
“You should be careful,” he said quietly. “Accusations like that ruin lives.”
Lucas stepped forward, every inch the protective older brother.
“If you touched her,” he said, voice low and lethal, “there won’t be enough left of your life to ruin.”
Sebastian held his gaze for a long moment.
Then he smiled. And for the first time, it wasn’t kind.
“I loved your sister,” he said. “And she’ll come back.”
With that, he turned and walked out. The door slammed. Vivian collapsed into a chair, sobbing.
Richard stared at the door like he might go after him and didn’t trust himself to stop.
Lucas stood perfectly still. Because now he knew one thing with absolute certainty:
Aria hadn’t run. She’d been taken. And whoever took her had done so to save her from a man who never planned to let her go. Lucas picked up his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t wanted to call.
“Dante,” he said when the line connected. “If you have my sister… keep her hidden.” There was a pause.
Then, quietly—
“I’m coming to find her.”
- Writer
