Safe In His Arms

Chapter 3: Where is Elara?

While the men left the hideout with the boss’s orders burning in their ears, across the city Elara was staring out the tall windows of Adrian’s mansion.

The night sky pressed against the glass, heavy with stars, but instead of comfort it gave her an uneasy feeling — as if someone, somewhere, was already searching for her.

She wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t know if she was safer here or just trapped in another kind of cage.

In the other room, Adrian was on the phone with his father, Mr. Cole.

“Yes, Father, I know what this involves,” Adrian said quietly. “But you owe her that much. Try to use your contacts to keep her safe. That way, she can go on and live her life.”

There was silence for a moment, then Mr. Cole’s tired voice answered, “Alright, Adrian. I’ll see what I can do. But I don’t promise anything. You know I left that life a long time ago.”

The call ended. Adrian set the phone down slowly, his jaw tight. His mind drifted back, uninvited, to a night he had never forgotten.

He was just a teenager then, standing in one of his father’s old warehouses. The air had been thick with smoke and noise, men shouting, deals being made. And then—chaos. His father had collapsed on the floor, poisoned, fighting for life.

Adrian remembered the panic in his chest as he watched a loyal employee rush forward, pulling his father out, saving him while others just stood frozen. Adrian could still see it clearly, the way death had hovered in the room that night.

It was the moment that had changed him. The moment that had made him understand the weight of the world his father once lived in.

Adrian blinked, pulling himself out of the memory. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered to himself, “Some debts never die.”

---

Adrian woke up early. The house was quiet, and the first rays of the sun were slipping through the curtains. He dressed quickly and went downstairs. Breakfast was already on the table. Mrs. Whitmore greeted him with a polite smile.

“Good morning, sir,” she said.

Adrian sat and ate in silence, his mind already on the work waiting for him. After finishing, he stood and looked at Mrs. Whitmore.

“Don’t let Elara out of your sight today,” he said firmly. “She stays in the house.”

Mrs. Whitmore nodded. “Of course, sir.”

Adrian left for his business, the sound of the carriage wheels fading as he rode away.

But Elara was restless. She had been staring out the window all morning, her eyes following the birds and the trees beyond the garden walls. The house felt too small, too heavy.

Mrs. Whitmore tried to keep her busy, but Elara’s heart longed for the outside. Quietly, when Mrs. Whitmore was distracted in the kitchen, Elara slipped out the back door.

She didn’t even notice how far she walked.

Elara wandered until she reached what looked like an abandoned farm. Weeds grew wild, and several small houses stood empty, their roofs half-collapsed. Still, there was something beautiful about it—the quiet, the birds singing freely in the trees. She let out a soft breath, almost forgetting her worries.

Then a voice growled behind her.

“I didn’t think I’d find you so easily, you sneaky little bastard.”

Elara spun around, panic rising in her chest. A man stepped forward from the shadows.

“Who are you?” she stammered, her voice shaking as she slowly backed away.

The man sneered. “You don’t remember me? That’s fine. But you’ve always been good at sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He marched closer, eyes burning.

Elara’s breath caught. She recognized him—it was the man who had chased her before.

“I didn’t see anything, I swear!” she cried, her voice breaking.

“I can’t risk it,” he muttered darkly, pulling a pistol from his coat.

Elara froze, her knees weak.

“Get on your knees. Now!” he barked.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No, please… I didn’t see anything,” she begged, sobbing, her whole body trembling. For a split second, her mind flashed with memories—her home, her dreams, Adrian’s face.

“Shut up!” the man roared, firing a shot into the air. The crack echoed across the empty farm.

Elara screamed and fell still, her heart pounding.

The man aimed again, finger tightening on the trigger—

“Leave her alone.”

The voice came from one of the abandoned houses. An aged man stepped out, steady as stone, a revolver in his hand.

The dealer laughed harshly. “You think I’m scared of you, old man?”

Without a word, the aged man fired. The bullet slammed into the dirt at the man’s feet.

“Next one goes to your head,” he said calmly.

The dealer’s face twisted with rage. “I’ll shoot you first—”

BANG! The revolver fired again, and the man cried out, clutching his hand as his gun clattered to the ground.

“Alright, alright!” he hissed, backing away. His eyes darted to Elara, cold and threatening. “But this isn’t over. I’ll come for you.”

He ran, disappearing into the trees.

Elara stood frozen, shaking, staring at the old man who had just saved her life.

---

Adrian had been busy with meetings all day. Mrs. Whitmore kept calling him, but he never answered.

When he finally came home, he parked his car and went straight through the kitchen.

“Afternoon,” he greeted with a smile, kissing Mrs. Whitmore on the forehead.

She didn’t answer. Adrian noticed the worry in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“Elara has been missing since this morning,” she said without wasting a second.