THE COST OF ESCAPE
923 Words
Amara waited.
She didn’t rush it this time.
Didn’t panic.
Didn’t cry.
She watched.
Listened.
Learned.
That was the only way she was getting out of here.
The past two days had been quiet—but not peaceful. Guards rotated outside her door. Footsteps came and went at certain hours. Meals were brought in silence.
Routine.
Predictable.
And predictable meant… opportunity.
Tonight, the footsteps were fewer.
Quieter.
Her chance.
Amara’s fingers tightened around the edge of the bedsheet she had torn earlier, twisting it into a makeshift rope. It wasn’t perfect.
But it didn’t need to be.
It just needed to work.
Her heart pounded as she moved toward the window again.
Locked.
Still.
But this time—she wasn’t trying to open it.
She had noticed something earlier.
The latch wasn’t strong.
Slowly, carefully, she wedged a metal hairpin into the edge, applying pressure.
“Come on…” she whispered.
It resisted.
Then—
Click.
Her breath hitched.
Hope exploded in her chest.
She pushed the window open slightly, cold night air rushing in.
Freedom.
Right there.
Amara didn’t hesitate.
She tied the sheet tightly around the window frame, testing it once.
Then twice.
It held.
“Okay… okay…”
Her hands trembled as she climbed onto the ledge, looking down.
It was high.
Too high.
But staying here?
Worse.
She swung one leg over.
Then the other—
“Going somewhere?”
Her entire body froze.
The voice came from behind her.
Cold.
Unamused.
Slowly, Amara turned her head.
One of Luca’s men stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her like she was a joke.
Her stomach dropped.
“I—”
Before she could finish, he moved.
Fast.
He grabbed her arm and yanked her off the ledge, sending her crashing onto the floor.
Pain shot through her side.
“Stupid girl,” he muttered.
“I just—I need to go home, please—”
The slap came suddenly.
Sharp.
Loud.
Amara’s head snapped to the side as pain exploded across her cheek. For a second, everything rang.
The room spun.
Her vision blurred.
“Don’t speak unless you’re told to,” he said harshly.
Tears welled in her eyes—not just from pain, but from the humiliation.
From the helplessness.
She hated it.
Hated all of it.
“Please…” she whispered weakly.
He stepped closer again—
Then stopped.
The air shifted.
Instantly.
Dangerously.
Amara felt it before she saw it.
The man went still.
Too still.
Slowly—
He turned.
And so did she.
Luca stood at the doorway.
Silent.
Watching.
But this time—
There was nothing empty about his eyes.
They were dark.
Sharp.
Burning with something far worse than anger.
Something controlled.
Deadly.
“What,” he said quietly, “did you just do?”
The man straightened immediately. “Boss, she was trying to escape, I just—”
“I didn’t ask for an explanation.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
Luca stepped into the room, his gaze never leaving the man.
“Did you touch her?”
A pause.
“…Yes.”
The answer had barely left his mouth—
Before the gunshot echoed.
Loud.
Final.
Amara flinched violently.
The man dropped instantly.
Gone.
Just like that.
Her breath came out in short, uneven bursts as she stared at the body on the floor, her entire body shaking.
Luca didn’t even look at him again.
Instead—
He turned to her.
And the shift was immediate.
Not soft.
Not gentle.
But… different.
He crouched in front of her, his eyes scanning her face.
Her cheek.
Red.
Swollen.
His jaw tightened.
“Look at me.”
Her breath trembled as she obeyed.
His hand lifted—
Amara flinched instinctively.
Something flickered in his expression.
Gone in a second.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
The words felt strange coming from him.
Unfamiliar.
Careful—almost.
He reached out anyway, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek.
Inspecting.
Not harsh.
Not cruel.
Just… precise.
“You shouldn’t have tried to escape,” he murmured.
“I had to,” she whispered, tears slipping down her face. “You can’t keep me here—”
“I can.”
The answer was immediate.
Certain.
But his voice had lowered.
Closer.
Quieter.
His thumb brushed away a tear before he seemed to realize what he was doing.
His hand stilled.
Then slowly dropped.
Silence stretched between them.
Something had changed.
Neither of them understood it yet.
But it was there.
Luca exhaled lightly, then stood, lifting her into his arms without warning.
Amara tensed immediately. “What are you—”
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine—”
“You’re not.”
His grip tightened slightly—not painful, just… firm.
Final.
He carried her toward the door like it was nothing.
Like she weighed nothing.
Like she belonged there.
Amara didn’t fight this time.
Didn’t speak.
Her heart beat wildly as she stared at him, confusion mixing with fear.
Why would he—
Why did he care?
Luca didn’t answer the question.
Not out loud.
But as he walked down the dim hallway, one thought lingered in his mind longer than it should have.
Unwelcome.
Unfamiliar.
Dangerous.
He should have let her go.
Or better yet—
He should have never spared her in the first place.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Too late for that now.
Because somewhere between sparing her…
And protecting her—
Luca Moretti had made a mistake.
He was starting to care.
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