THIS MARRIAGE IS WRONG

Chapter 4: The Fall and the Flame

The gunshot rang out, hitting the air hard.

Elena slammed down to the floor, the chilly marble biting into her skin. Her heart raced in her chest while the sound of heavy boots thundered behind her. The ringing in her ears was loud, but she was still alive—the bullet had missed.

The flash drive tumbled away, sliding under a fancy console table and disappearing into the shadows. One of the masked guys yelled, “She’s headed to the back!” But she didn’t stick around to find out what he was saying. She crawled, scrambled, then dashed through the service door. The kitchen was huge and shiny, a blur of bright counters and buzzing machines. At the far end, a swinging door led to a narrow hallway. Her lungs burned, but adrenaline kept her moving.

Find stairs. Find a window. Just find something.

Pushing through the swinging door, she entered a dim utility corridor filled with service elevators. One was blinking red—someone was already using it. Likely Dr. Vale and Darian were closing in on her. The other elevator was dark. No power.

Then she spotted it—a metal stairwell door marked Fire Exit. She flung it open.

Concrete steps spiraled down like a tunnel leading to freedom. Without thinking, she ran. Each floor felt like a workout. She counted down—ten… nine… eight… She had no clue how high the penthouse was, but her legs screamed with every step. Her nightgown tangled at her knees, but she kept going.

On the sixth floor, the door above her slammed open. Heavy boots and muffled commands—someone was right behind her.

Elena pushed herself harder. She reached the fifth floor and almost slipped on a puddle near the stairwell corner. Grabbing the railing for support, she turned and saw someone worse than the men above.

Standing at the bottom of the stairwell was a tall guy in a sleek black suit. He looked calm and still.

She froze between danger and doom.

The man said, “You’re faster than I expected.”

Elena tightened her grip on the railing. “Who are you?”

He tilted his head. “Don’t you remember me? We used to work together. You even saved my life once, back when you trusted the truth more than comfort.”

“Liar,” she shot back.

“I wish I was, but I’m not here to fight you, Elena. I’m trying to get you out. Darian isn’t who you think he is.”

“He’s my husband!”

“Is he?”

Footsteps echoed from above, getting closer. There was no time to debate.

“Come with me,” the stranger urged. “We can escape through the lower garage.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m the only one here not drugging you, chasing you, or messing with your past.”

That hit hard. He wasn’t wrong.

She hesitated but then nodded.

He turned, swiping a card to get through a security door she hadn’t noticed. The hallway opened up darker, lined with equipment and warning signs. It had a weird smell of oil and dust.

“Who are you?” she panted.

“My name’s Jax Monroe,” he said. “You and I… we were supposed to take Blackwell down together.”

Her blood ran cold.

“What?”

He glanced at her, “You weren’t Darian Blackwell’s wife. You were his whistleblower.”

Everything in her pushed against that idea. But deep down, something stirred, like a scared memory hiding away.

“Then how do I explain the marriage certificate?”

“Forgery. Memory messing. Take your pick.”

They reached another metal door that opened into a dim underground garage. Jax led her behind a row of fancy cars, stopping at a matte-black SUV that was already running.

Just as they got to the passenger side, Jax stopped. His body stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Then she heard it too—a phone ringing. But it wasn’t hers.

Jax pulled a sleek burner phone from his coat. His expression turned dark as he looked at the screen.

“I wasn’t expecting this.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s him. Darian.”

Jax picked up.

A clipped voice came through the speaker. “Jax. Always predictable.”

Jax clenched his jaw. “You’re just paranoid.”

“You’ve just signed your death certificate.”

“Maybe. But at least I’m not playing god with a woman’s mind.”

There was a pause. Then Darian’s voice returned, smooth but cold. “If she’s with you, ask her about June 17th. Ask her what she saw at Apex Lab. If she remembers... it’s already too late.”

The call ended.

Elena’s breath caught in her throat. She had no clue what happened on June 17th, but those words weighed heavy on her.

Apex Lab.

Something in her stirred—a flash of memories. White coats. A steel table. Blood on a clipboard. Someone screamed her name. Her own voice answered back—She gasped.

Then headlights filled the garage.

A black van barreled down the entry ramp.

Jax shoved her into the SUV. “Get down!”

Gunfire erupted.

Elena screamed—and then everything went black.