No Escape From The Don

Five Days

Nine years later…

Time had gone by in a flash, and Tessa had grown beautifully.

The ocean whispered against the cliffs below the palace. Tessa sat by her window, knees pulled to her chest, watching the waves hit the black rocks. The horizon looked wide and free—but she knew it was a lie.

Damien never let her forget. Every year he reminded her that once she turned eighteen, she would belong to him. The thought of it made her sick. Her hands shook as she hugged her knees tighter.

She looked down at the shore. Soldiers stood everywhere, rifles on their shoulders.

Even here. He’s watching. Her eyes lazily looked over her shoulders and spotted a security camera.

She Sighed...

She had tried to run before. Every year she tried.

Once, she almost made it. She remembered the cold water, the way the waves pulled her down, the burning in her throat as she swam for her life. She had even touched the side of a boat.

But then hands grabbed her. Soldiers dragged her back, her screams swallowed by the sea. Damien had been waiting. His face still burned in her memory—calm, cruel, as if he had known all along.

“You’re mine, Theresa,” he whispered that night. “There's no escape from me”

Now, staring out the window, she pressed her forehead against the glass.

'Five more days...'

Damien as sick as he was, had waited all these years ever since he kidnapped her to sleep with her on her 18th birthday.

Five more days before he finally takes what he’s been waiting for all these years. Her heart pounded just thinking about it. She hated him. Hated how he haunted her every thought.

The door creaked, interrupting her train of thoughts.

Her maids entered quietly, eyes lowered like always. No one ever dared to look her in the eye. They moved around her like dolls, brushing out her hair, smoothing out the silky white dress they’d laid out for her.

"Master Damien asked that you be dressed properly," one of them said softly.

Tessa didn’t answer. She just let them work, sitting stiff and quiet until they were done. When they stepped back, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize herself. Her gold hair was straightened, enhancing her beautiful face...she had little makeup on ..that was enough to make her tantalizing

The dress clung to her body, showing every curve. Her shoulders, her legs — all bare. She looked like she was being offered to someone.

And she was.

The door to Damien’s room opened with a heavy creak.

Tessa stepped inside, her heart thudding so loud she swore the whole palace could hear it.

The air smelled thick — wine, sweat, and something darker. Damien sat on his bed, shirt halfway open, women draped over him like jewelry. One of them giggled as she reached for his belt.

“Leave.”

His voice cut through the air like a blade.

The women hesitated for a moment before slipping off the bed and scurrying out, their perfume lingering behind them.

Now it was just the two of them.

Damien leaned back slightly, studying her. His gaze moved over her like a slow burn, and Tessa felt her skin prickle beneath his stare.

He smiled faintly — that cold, knowing smile that never reached his eyes.

“You’ve grown, Theresa.”

She said nothing.

> “Do you know why I had you brought here?”

Her throat tightened. “To remind me,” she said flatly.

He chuckled, standing. His steps were unhurried as he approached her.

“You remember well.”

She flinched when he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Five more days,” he murmured. “And you’ll finally know where you belong.”

Her breath trembled, but her eyes met his.

“I’ll never belong to you.”

The smile on his lips faltered for a heartbeat — replaced by something darker. He leaned closer, his voice a whisper.

“You already do.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence between them felt alive — sharp enough to cut through the air. Then, slowly, Damien rose to his full height, elbows resting on his knees as he studied her once more.

Each second stretched, heavy and unbearable.

Then he stood.

Each step toward her sounded heavier than the last, echoing off the marble floor like a countdown.

Tessa backed away until her spine hit the wall.

He stopped inches from her, one hand slamming against the wall beside her head. The sound made her flinch.

“Still trying to run from me?” His voice was low, almost amused.

She refused to answer.

His other hand lifted—not to touch, but to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes. The room seemed smaller, darker, as though even the walls held their breath.

“You should know by now,” he murmured, his breath cold against her skin, “there’s nowhere left to go.”

Tessa’s pulse thundered. She swallowed hard, trying to speak, but no words came.

Then he smiled—slow, dangerous—and stepped back.

“Five days, Theresa,” he said quietly. “And then we see what you’re really made of.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her trembling against the wall, her mind screaming for escape.

The door shut softly behind him, but the echo of his words clung to her like a curse.

'Five more days....'

Five more days before everything ended or began