Chapter 32 The Price of Loving Him
Olive squeezed her eyes shut.
Outside, it was dark.
Too dark.
When she dared to open her eyes, all she could see were trees—towering, dense, surrounding them on every side. No streetlights. No nearby houses. No sign of a road. Just forest. Thick and endless.
The silence unsettled her the most.
No traffic. No distant voices.
Only the low hum of insects and the crunch of boots against gravel as the men walked forward.
Where am I…? her thoughts screamed. What place is this?
Then she saw it.
Through the gaps between the trees, something pale began to appear.
White.
Massive.
A mansion.
It rose from the darkness like something unreal—grand and imposing, its white walls stark against the black of the forest. Soft lights glowed from its windows, outlining balconies and tall pillars, making it look more like a hidden estate than a home.
Olive’s eyes widened in disbelief.
The men were already heading straight toward it.
Fear surged through her, raw and uncontrollable. She began to struggle again, twisting in the man’s arms, kicking weakly, desperate to break free.
“Stop moving!” the man from the van barked.
She didn’t.
Then she heard it.
A sharp, unmistakable click.
Metal.
Her breath caught as the cold presence of a gun pressed closer.
“Enough,” the man said flatly. “One more move and I pull the trigger.”
Olive froze.
Her entire body went rigid. Every muscle locked in place as terror flooded her system. She shut her eyes tightly, tears burning behind her lids. Her breathing turned shallow and uneven, but she forced herself to stay still.
She still doesn't want to die.
Not here.
Not like this.
The men continued forward, carrying her closer and closer to the towering mansion, and Olive didn't dare to move anymore.
The moment they stepped fully inside the mansion, Olive almost forgot to breathe.
The darkness of the forest vanished behind them, replaced by something far more unsettling.
The interior was vast and eerily quiet, bathed in soft, indirect light that reflected off white marble floors. The ceilings stretched high above her, elegant and intimidating all at once. Every surface looked polished, expensive, untouched—like a place owned by people who never worried about money, never worried about consequences.
This wasn’t a hideout.
It felt like power made solid.
She barely had time to process it before the man carrying her turned sharply down a corridor and shoved open a door.
The contrast was brutal.
This room was nothing like the rest of the mansion.
The walls were painted black—deep, matte, suffocating. The lighting was dim, focused only on one thing at the center: a red couch. Its color was vivid, almost violent against the darkness, like it didn’t belong anywhere else.
The man dropped her onto it without care. Her body sank into the cushions as pain shot through her wrists and ankles, sharp and burning.
Then his hand reached for her face.
The tape was ripped from her mouth in one harsh pull.
“Ah—!” Olive cried out, pain flashing through her jaw as tears sprang instantly to her eyes. Strands of her hair had been stuck to the adhesive for hours, and the sting was sharp and humiliating.
The man turned away, already heading for the door.
“Wait!” Olive shouted hoarsely, desperation flooding her voice. “Let me go! Please—where is Leo? Where is he?!”
The man stopped.
Slowly, he turned back.
A grin spread across his face—wide, cruel, amused.
He walked toward her again and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up until their eyes met.
“What a fool,” he said softly. “You really believed that bastard is here?”
He shoved her chin away.
Olive lost her balance and fell sideways against the couch, the air knocked from her lungs.
The man didn’t look back. The door slammed shut behind him.
The sound echoed.
Then silence swallowed the room whole.
That was when the fear truly settled in.
Olive’s body began to shake. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she sobbed—quietly at first, then harder, the sound trapped in her chest because there was no one left to hear it.
Mom… Chris…
What if they were already looking for her? What if her mother found out she was missing? The thought alone made her chest tighten painfully. Celeste couldn’t handle that kind of stress—not now, not after everything she had just survived.
Olive cried harder, curling into herself as much as the ropes allowed.
And Leo—
If he wasn’t here… then where was he?
Was he hurt? Captured?
Dead?
The thought crushed her.
Exhaustion slowly crept in, dulling the edge of her fear. Hunger gnawed at her stomach. Her body ached from the restraints. Tears soaked into the fabric of the couch as her eyelids grew heavy.
Without realizing it, Olive fell asleep.