Chapter 03. The Forbidden Escape
1118 Words
The grand corridors stretched endlessly before her, like a beautiful, glittering trap. Towering marble walls rose like cold sentinels, reflecting sterile chandelier light onto her flushed, terrified face. Every turn only birthed more hallways—silent, calculated dead ends, designed to disorient prey.
Aria’s breath came in broken gasps as she ran, her pulse a wild drumbeat beneath her skin. The crimson dress clung to her trembling frame like a second skin, screaming her presence in the pale light. Vivienne's black blazer slipped uselessly from her shoulders with every panicked stride.
The mansion twisted around her, like a living, breathing predator.
Each sharp click of her heels on the marble echoed like gunfire through the oppressive silence. No alarms. No guards. Nothing. Which only made the terror twist tighter around her ribs.
Were they watching? Were they letting her run?
Her muscles burned. The ache in her injured ankle flared with every step. But the raw instinct to escape kept her moving. She had to flee. She had to.
Finally, a sliver of cold moonlight cut through the darknes, a glass door ahead. She lunged for it, stumbling into the night air that slashed against her skin like knives. The silk dress offered no protection; the blazer barely clung to her now. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, desperate, vulnerable.
The garden sprawled before her—a twisted, endless labyrinth of shadows and towering hedges. Every tree loomed like a monster. Every whisper of wind felt like a breath on her neck.
She weaved low, desperate to disappear into the foliage. The iron fence lay somewhere far beyond, but the property was endless. Every step deeper only pulled her further into the nightmare.
Then—A snap. Sharp. Close.
She whirled.
From the shadows stepped a man. Stocky, filthy, his dark work clothes smeared with dirt. A groundskeeper. His narrowed eyes crawled over her body like roaches.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded. But his voice was already thick with something darker.
Aria instinctively stepped back, voice breaking. "P-please—I—"
But his eyes were locked on her body. The tight red silk, the bare shoulders, the rising flush of fear in her skin. The blazer slipped again, baring the soft swell of her chest.
His lips curled into a grin that made her stomach twist. "Out here, dressed like that? Alone?" His voice turned to a sickening rasp. "You’re practically begging for it."
She clutched the blazer closed, trembling. "Please ... don’t."
But he was already moving toward her, his breath heavy.
"Shhh ... Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t fight." His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist … fingers digging into her soft flesh like claws.
She froze, horror blooming inside her as his other hand slithered up her bare arm, creeping toward her exposed skin, invading her space, poisoning the air between them.
His breath ghosted hot against her ear. "If you didn’t want to be touched," he whispered, "you wouldn’t dress like a whore."
Tears burned behind her eyes as his calloused fingers slid along her collarbone, creeping dangerously toward her chest.
"Stop—please," she whispered, voice barely audible.
He chuckled softly, intoxicated by her terror. "Relax, sweetheart ... I’ll make you enjoy it."
***
Inside the surveillance room
The glowing CCTV monitors bathed the control room in pale blue light. Adrian sat motionless, like a god on his throne. The deep swirl of red wine in his glass reflected the predator’s glint in his eyes.
The moment he saw Aria slipping out of her room, an amused smirk had curled his lips.
"So predictable," he murmured. "Little fawn always bolts before it learns who holds the leash."
But now … the smile was gone.
His eyes locked onto the screen where the gardener’s filthy hands groped her trembling frame.
Touching what was his.
The glass slipped from Adrian’s hand, shattering into a thousand crimson shards across the marble. His eyes burned with cold, controlled rage.
Within seconds, he was on his feet.
Deadly. Focused.
The sharp c***k of his polished shoes echoed like war drums through the silent halls. His breath remained calm,but beneath it coiled a storm blacker than night.
"No one," he whispered, voice colder than ice, "touches her. No one ... except me."
***
Aria struggled helplessly in the gardener’s grip. The blazer slipped from her shoulders entirely, baring her pale skin to his lecherous gaze. His hands roamed greedily, hungry for every inch.
"You feel so soft," he breathed against her ear. "Don’t fight it."
His fingers slipped lower—just a breath away—
BANG!
The heavy garden door exploded open.
Adrian stood in its frame. A storm made flesh.
His obsidian eyes blazed, focused solely on the man touching his possession.
Before the gardener could even register him, Adrian’s fist collided with his jaw, a brutal, bone-crunching impact that flung him sideways into the cold dirt.
Adrian advanced, slow. Controlled. His presence devoured the garden’s air like a suffocating shadow.
"You," he hissed, voice soft as death itself, "laid your hands on what belongs to me."
The man whimpered, crawling backwards. "I—I didn’t know, sir—!"
Adrian's boot slammed into his ribs, folding him like paper.
"I do not care what you knew."
Then his gaze shifted. To her.
Aria stood frozen, shaking, breathless, drenched in terror. Silent tears streaked down her flushed cheeks.
Adrian approached her slowly. His face softened, but only into something far more dangerous—almost tender, almost gentle, but laced with possession so dark it made her knees weaken.
Without warning, his cold fingers seized her chin, his grip firm, iron-strong, forcing her trembling gaze into his.
"I gave you a chance," he whispered, voice a velvet-wrapped knife. "And this … is how you repay me."
His obsidian eyes gleamed, a swirling storm of fury, hunger, and feral possessiveness.
"You almost let yourself be defiled," he whispered, lips curling into a quiet, venomous smile, "by filth unworthy to even breathe beneath your shadow."
Aria's breath shattered in shallow, erratic gasps. His hold wasn't violent—yet—but every fiber of her being screamed under his terrifying dominance. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.
Adrian’s hand tightened on her chin, fingertips biting into her soft skin. His voice dropped to a growl, sharp as a dagger, "No one touches you." He leaned in, his breath grazing her trembling lips. "No one." He smiled darkly, whispering against her skin."Except me."
His fingers slid slowly down her throat, tracing the frantic pulse beneath. The caress was tender—sickeningly tender, but laced with dominance so absolute it stole her breath entirely.
She was trapped.
Utterly his.
- Writer
