HER RUTHLESS SALVATION

CHAPTER 8: THE ESCAPE

The black SUV ate up Manhattan streets like it owned them. Because it did.

Ellie sat pressed against the leather seat, her single bag clutched on her lap like it was armor. Damien was beside her. Close. Too close. His thigh brushed hers every time the car took a corner, but he didn’t move away. He didn’t let her move either.

His phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since they left the penthouse. ASHFORD SYNDICATE. URGENT. URGENT. URGENT.

He ignored every single one.

“Where are we going? ” Ellie finally asked. Her voice cracked. She hated that. Hated sounding weak in front of him.

Damien didn’t look at her. His eyes were on the window, watching buildings blur past. The driver took them off 5th Avenue, down toward the FDR Drive. Away from Central Park. Away from safety.

“Away,” he said. One word. Final.

“That’s not an answer.”

He turned then. Slow. His eyes were black in the dim light of the car. Not angry. Worse. Calculated.

“It’s the only answer you need tonight, Ellie.” His hand found hers on top of her bag. His fingers threaded through hers. Possessive. Warm. “Trust me.”

She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But the photos were burned into her mind. Her face circled in red. The note: _Run while you still can._

“I do trust you,” she whispered. It was the truth. Terrifying and real. “I just… I need to know if I’m dragging you into something you can’t win.”

The SUV hit a pothole. She jolted forward. His grip tightened, pulling her back against the seat. Against him.

“You’re not dragging me,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear. His breath was warm on her skin. “I was already in it. Born in it. The Ashford name doesn’t get chosen. It chooses you.”

The driver took an exit. The sign flashed: *NEW JERSEY TURNPIKE*.

Ellie’s blood froze. New Jersey. Where her parents were buried. Where the man who sold her name was buried.

“New Jersey? ” she choked out. “Damien, no. I can’t go back there—”

“Not back,” he cut her off. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. Slow. Grounding. “Through. We’re not stopping. There’s a private airstrip in Teterboro. 20 minutes.”

Teterboro. Private jets. Old money escaping old enemies.

Ellie stared at their joined hands. His skin was darker than hers. His grip is steadier. Like he could hold her together just by not letting go.

“What happens after Teterboro? ” she asked.

“After? ” He finally looked at her. Really looked. Like he was memorizing her face. “After, you’re safe. No one in Manhattan knows this jet. No one in this city can touch you there.”

“And you? "

“I’m coming with you.”

The certainty in his voice should’ve comforted her. But it didn’t. Because if he was coming, that meant he was leaving Manhattan. Leaving his empire. Leaving everything for her.

“Damien, you can’t—”

“I can.” He leaned in. His forehead touched hers. Just like in the penthouse. But this time the car was moving. This time they were running. “I told you, Ellie. I don’t lose what’s mine. And I’m not leaving you to face this alone.”

His lips brushed her temple. Not a kiss. A vow.

The SUV slowed. Gates. High. Black. Iron. A guardhouse lit up ahead. The driver flashed something at the window. The gates opened without a word.

Teterboro Airport. Private jets lined up like sleeping beasts under the night sky.

Damien released her hand. For one second, Ellie felt cold. Then he was opening her door, stepping out into the cold New Jersey air. He didn’t walk around the car. He waited. Hand outstretched.

She took it.

The moment her feet hit the pavement, another phone buzzed. Not his. Hers.

She’d forgotten she even had it. Damien had given her a new one weeks ago. “For emergencies,” he’d said.

She pulled it from her bag. Unknown number. One text.

*RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN, ELLIE. HE’S NOT THE HERO YOU THINK. — A FRIEND*

The phone slipped from her fingers.

Damien caught it before it hit the ground. He read the text. Once. His jaw clenched so hard she heard his teeth grind.

“Get in the jet, Ellie. Now.”

But she didn’t move. She was staring at him. At the man who’d said he’d burn the city down for her. At the man whose name was on the text. ASHFORD SYNDICATE.

“Damien,” she whispered. “Who are you really? ”

He met her eyes. And for the first time since she met him, Damien Ashford looked tired. Not ruthless. Not possessive. Just… tired.

“I’m the man who killed to keep this name,” he said quietly. “I’m the man who would kill again to keep you. Does that scare you, Ellie? ”

The jet’s stairs were down. The pilot is waiting. The New Jersey wind was pulling at her hair.

Ellie looked at his hand. Still outstretched. Still waiting.

She thought of the photos. The red circle. The warning.

Then she thought of his arms around her on the balcony. His voice: _You’re not going anywhere. Not in my city._

She placed her hand in his.

“I’m more scared of what happens if I let go,” she said.

Damien’s grip tightened. He pulled her up the stairs, into the jet. Into his world.

The doors closed behind them.

And Manhattan disappeared into the dark.

The jet engines roared to life, but inside the cabin, silence was louder.

Ellie sank into the leather seat across from Damien. The space was small. Luxurious. Dangerous. All black and silver, like him. No windows on this side. Just the hum of the plane and the weight of his confession hanging between them.

_I’m the man who killed to keep this name._

The words replayed in her head. Over and over. She should’ve been terrified. Should’ve unbuckled and run for the stairs even if they were already closing.

But she didn’t.

Because his hand was still holding hers. And his thumb was still moving over her knuckles in slow, steady circles. Like he was trying to calm her down without saying a word.

The jet lifted off. Manhattan fell away beneath them. The lights of the city blinked like dying stars. The place she’d run to. The place she’d run from.

“Seatbelt,” Damien said quietly. Not a command. A reminder.

Ellie clicked hers on with shaking hands. He didn’t wear his. Of course he didn’t. Rules were for other people. Not for Damien Ashford.

The plane leveled at 30,000 feet. The cabin lights dimmed. Outside, only darkness and clouds.

“You said you’d tell me everything,” Ellie whispered. Her voice barely carried over the engine. “Tomorrow. But… we’re not in Manhattan anymore. So… is it tomorrow now? ”

Damien’s eyes lifted from her hand to her face. He studied her like she was a puzzle he hadn’t solved yet. Like she was worth solving.

“It’s not about time, Ellie,” he said. “It’s about safety. And you’re safe here. No one can reach you at this altitude.”

“Except you,” she said before she could stop herself.

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. Dark. Brief. Gone. “Except me.”

He released her hand then. For one second, she mourned the loss of his warmth. Then he was reaching for the mini bar beside his seat. He poured two glasses of amber liquid. Whiskey. Expensive. The kind that burned going down.

He handed her one. Their fingers brushed. She didn’t pull away.

“Drink,” he ordered softly. “You’re in shock. Your hands won’t stop shaking.”

She took a sip. Fire. It spread through her chest, chasing away the cold New Jersey air. Chasing away some of the fear.

“Now talk,” she said, setting the glass down. “You said you killed to keep the Ashford name. Who did you kill, Damien? ”

The cabin went still. Even the engines seemed quieter.

Damien leaned back in his seat. One arm draped over the leather. The ruthless billionaire mask was back. But his eyes… his eyes were tired again. Like he hadn’t slept in years.

“My uncle,” he said. One word. One life.

Ellie’s breath caught. “Your uncle? ”

“He wanted the syndicate. Wanted control of Manhattan before my father was even cold in the ground.” Damien swirled the whiskey in his glass. He didn’t drink it. Just watched it move. “I was 22. Fresh out of Wall Street. Thought I could play both sides. Businessman by day. Ashford by night.”

He looked up at her. Direct. Unflinching.

“He put a gun to my father’s head in this very jet. This exact seat you’re sitting in.”

Ellie’s fingers clutched the armrest. The leather was cold. Like death.

“I had two choices,” Damien continued, voice flat. “Let him pull the trigger. Or pull mine first. I chose the Ashford way. I chose my father. I chose this name.”

Silence. Heavy. Final.

The jet hit turbulence. Ellie jolted forward. Before she could grab anything, Damien’s arm was around her, pulling her across the aisle. Into his lap. Into his chest.

“Hey,” he murmured against her hair. “Breathe. I’ve got you.”

She was too shocked to protest. Too raw from his story to pull away. So she stayed. Listening to his heartbeat. Steady. Strong. The opposite of hers.

“You were 22,” she whispered against his shirt. “You were just a kid.”

“I was an Ashford,” he corrected. His hand came up, fingers threading through her hair again. Possessive. Protective. “There’s no such thing as a kid in my family. Only heirs. Only survivors.”

She tilted her head up to look at him. His face was close. Too close. His eyes were dark, but not cold. Not right now.

“Did it haunt you? ” she asked. “Killing him? ”

“For a while,” he admitted. His thumb brushed her lower lip. Not a kiss. Just… touch. “Then I realized something. Mercy is a luxury we can’t afford. Not in Manhattan. Not with the Ashford name.”

His hand moved to her jaw, tilting her face up further.

“But you,” he murmured. “You’re my mercy, Ellie. You’re the one soft thing I let into this life. The one thing I won’t let the syndicate touch.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Fear and something else. Something hotter. Something dangerous.

“Damien…”

“Shh.” He pressed his forehead to hers again. The jet, the darkness, the confession… it all faded. For one second, it was just them. “You asked who I am. I’m a killer. I’m a billionaire. I’m a monster Manhattan created.”

His lips brushed her temple. Soft. Unlike anything she expected from him.

“But I’m your monster, Ellie. And I’ll burn every city, cross every ocean, kill every man who tries to take you from me.”

The plane leveled again. But Ellie’s world was still tilting.

She closed her eyes. Chose to believe him. Chose to stay.

Because she was more scared of letting go.

Outside the jet, the darkness stretched endless. But in Damien’s arms, Ellie finally felt safe.

Even if safety came with blood on his hands.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**