Chapter 119 She's alive
DAMIEN
It had been one year, eight months, two weeks, ten days, and fifteen hours since I last saw her.
I counted. Not just in passing—not some vague, drifting sense of time slipping through my fingers. No. I counted every second like a man chained to his own punishment, like each tick of the clock was a reminder of the moment I failed her.
Jasmine.
Her name alone felt like a wound that never quite healed. It sat heavy in my chest, tightening, squeezing, reminding me that the life I once had… the one she built around me… was gone. I could still see her, God, I could see her so clearly. The way her eyes had searched mine that night—wide, uncertain, filled with something I hadn’t understood then but now haunted me relentlessly. Fear. There had been fear in her eyes, buried beneath the love, hidden behind that soft smile she forced for me.
And I— I had let her go. I replayed it every day, Every single day.
The way she rushed into my arms. The way her fingers curled into my shirt like she was holding on to something slipping away. The way she kissed me—not like she always did, not teasing, not playful—but slow… desperate… like she was trying to memorize me.
And then— “I love you.” The words echoed in my head like a curse.
She had never said them like that before, not like it was the last time she ever would. My jaw tightened as I leaned back in my chair, staring blankly at nothing, yet seeing everything all at once. My fingers curled into fists on the armrests, knuckles turning white. “I should have stopped her…” I muttered under my breath, my voice rough, broken.
I should have grabbed her wrist, pulled her back, forced her to tell me what was wrong. But I didn’t, i hadn't. Because I trusted her, because I thought—stupidly—that whatever it was, we’d face it together later. Later never came. By the time I realized something was wrong, she was already gone.
Gone like she had never existed.
No trace.
No clue.
No explanation.
Just… gone.
I exhaled shakily, dragging a hand down my face. My beard had grown thicker over the months, unkempt in ways I never would have allowed before. But nothing about me was the same anymore.
Sleeping? A joke. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. Felt her, heard her voice calling my name. And every time I woke up— She wasn’t there. Eating became a chore. Living became… mechanical.
Work was the only thing that kept me from completely losing my mind, but even that had started slipping. Meetings blurred. Conversations faded. All I could think about was her.
Where she was.
If she was safe.
If she was— I clenched my jaw hard enough to hurt. “No…” I whispered harshly. “She’s alive.”
She had to be, because the alternative? It would destroy me. A sharp buzz cut through the silence, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
My gaze snapped to the telecom on my desk. “Boss?” one of my security guards spoke.
I straightened slightly, forcing my voice into something steady. “Speak.”
“There’s a man here… says he’s here for Jasmine.”
My entire body went rigid. For a split second, I couldn’t breathe.
“Who?” I demanded, already rising to my feet.
“He didn’t give a full introduction. Just said… you’d know him.”
My jaw ticked. There was only one person it could be. “Send him in,” I ordered, my voice low, controlled—though my pulse had already begun to race.
The line cut, I turned, pacing once across the room, running a hand through my hair. My mind was already spinning, piecing things together, grasping at anything. Thomas, Jasmine’s uncle.
He had disappeared shortly after she did. No contact. No trace, and now— Now he was here.
The door swung open without a knock.
I turned sharply. Thomas walked in like a storm contained in human form—shoulders tense, jaw tight, eyes sharp and searching. He looked older, worn, like the past year had carved something into him too.
But he wasn’t alone. In his hand was a bag.
And something about the way he held it made my stomach twist. He stopped in front of my desk, his gaze locking onto mine.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence was thick. Heavy, dangerous. “What happened?” he finally asked.
Vague.
But I knew exactly what he meant. My jaw clenched. I looked away. The shame hit harder than I expected. “She’s gone,” I said quietly.
He didn’t react immediately. Then— “She was taken, wasn’t she?”
My head snapped up, my eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?” I demanded, suspicion flaring instantly. “Were you—”
“Don’t.” His voice cut through mine, sharp and controlled. “If my niece hasn’t told you something, then I will respect that.”
Something in me snapped.
My fist slammed against the desk with a loud crack. “Bullshit!” I roared, the anger finally spilling over. “If what you know has anything to do with where she is, then you will tell me!”
He didn’t flinch. That only made it worse. “She’s been missing for over a year!” I continued, my chest heaving. “No trace, no leads—nothing! And you walk in here with answers and expect me to just sit quietly?”
“Who are you to her?” he shot back, raising a brow, his tone cold. “That I should hand over everything I know?”
The words hit.
Hard, but I didn’t hesitate. "I love her,” I said, my voice rough, raw, stripped of everything but truth. “I love her, and not knowing where she is is killing me.”
Silence, thick “I saw her last,” I continued, my voice breaking slightly despite myself. “She told me she loved me… and then she disappeared.”
My throat tightened.
“I promised her…” I swallowed hard. “Every time she had a nightmare, I told her she’d always be safe with me.”
My laugh came out hollow. “Funny, right? I couldn’t even keep that promise.” My strength gave out. I sank back into my chair, dragging my hands over my face. “I lost her,” I whispered.
For a moment, the room was quiet.
Then, a hand landed on my shoulder. Firm and grounding. I looked up, Thomas. His expression had softened—not completely, but enough. “I won’t tell you what she chose not to,” he said quietly. “But I will tell you this—if we don’t act soon, you might lose her for good.”
My heart stopped.“…What?”
He moved quickly, pulling out a tablet and placing it in front of me. The screen lit up, revealing a map.
A blinking red dot.
My breath caught.
“That’s her,” he said.
I leaned forward, eyes locked onto the screen.
Alive, she was alive.
“She’s at the borders,” he continued. “I placed a tracking chip in her before she came to this city. I knew who was after her.”
I shot him a look.
“You what?”
“It was necessary,” he said firmly.