Chapter 227

BRIELLE

The call ended with a soft click, and for a second I just sat there, phone still pressed to my ear, breathing hard.

I had done it. I had kept her talking…rambling about the book, about the Shadow King, about how she was “saving” me — for what felt like forever. My voice had stayed steady even as cramps twisted through my belly and tears kept falling silently down my cheeks. But now the line was dead, and the silence felt heavier than ever, pressing in from all sides like the walls were closing around me.

I opened the secure messaging app with shaking fingers. Jack’s reply was already there but it was the lifeline I desperately needed.

Jack: Trace locked. Abandoned warehouse area on the east side. I have a team moving in. Stay inside the penthouse. Do not engage her again unless she calls. You did well, Brielle. Keep breathing. I’ll update you the second I have eyes on him.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I read the message again, then again. Relief flooded through me so hard it made my shoulders shake with silent sobs. Jack was on it. He was moving. A team was heading there. Damien was close to coming home.

But the relief was tangled with guilt so heavy it hurt to breathe. This was my fault. My book. My words. I had created the Shadow King as a complex, possessive force in The Veiled Heart, and now a sick woman had twisted that fiction into a reason to hurt the man I loved more than anything in this world.

But the fear wouldn’t leave. It clung to me like a second skin, cold and suffocating. What if Jack was too late? What if that woman hurt him more before they arrived? What if the next photo she sent showed something worse.., something I couldn’t come back from? The image of Damien bound to that chair, blood on his chest, bruise darkening on his jaw… it wouldn’t stop replaying in my head.

I forced myself to sit up straighter on the couch, ignoring the fresh cramp that followed the movement. The doctor had warned me about stress, but how was I supposed to stay calm when my husband had been taken because of something I created? I rubbed my lower back with one hand, breathing through the pain, while the other stayed protectively over my belly.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on good memories instead. Damien kissing my belly every morning and whispering to Aurora like she could already hear him. The way he had laughed at the park yesterday when the kite went wild, even while trying so hard to keep me safe. The way he had fed me mango slices while teasing me about my spreadsheets obsession. The way he had looked at me on the couch, eyes dark with desire and love, holding back because he refused to risk us.

He was out there somewhere, hurt and alone, because he loved me enough to fight for me even when I pushed him away.

Fresh tears fell as I rocked gently, trying to soothe both myself and our daughter. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “This is Mama’s fault. I wrote the book. I poured so much of our pain into those pages, and now someone’s using it to hurt Daddy. But I’m going to fix this. Jack is coming. He’s going to bring him home. We just have to be strong a little longer.”

The cramps kept coming in slow, warning waves. I breathed through each one, counting in my head like the doctor had taught me. In… two… three… four. Out… two… three… four. It helped a little, but the fear was louder than the pain. What if the stress triggered another scare? What if Aurora felt how terrified I was and something went wrong? I couldn’t lose them both. I wouldn’t survive it.

I checked the app again. No new message from Jack. The waiting was torture. Every minute without news felt like another knife in my chest. I imagined Damien in that dim warehouse, tied to a chair, blood on his skin, pain in his eyes.

I pressed my forehead to my knees as much as my belly would allow and let the tears fall freely for a while. The penthouse was too quiet. Too still. Without Damien’s steady presence…  his voice, his touch, his quiet strength, it felt like half of my world was missing.

But I couldn’t fall apart completely. Not when he needed me to be strong.

I wiped my face roughly and sat up straighter, ignoring the protest in my back. I had to be ready. If Jack called with news, I needed to be clear-headed. If the stalker called again, I needed to keep her talking. If… if the worst happened… I needed to be able to protect our daughter.

I reached for my laptop slowly, angling it on my lap so I could pretend to work if the stalker was watching. I opened a blank document and started typing random sentences — anything to look busy. My fingers moved automatically while my mind raced with prayers and plans.

Please, Jack. Hurry.

Please, Damien. Hold on.

Please, Aurora. Stay safe with me.

The minutes stretched on. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

I kept checking the app, willing another message from Jack to appear. Every time Aurora kicked, I whispered to her — telling her stories about her father, how he had fought through hell to be with us, how he would move mountains to come home to us. How much he already loved her.

The fear didn’t leave. But neither did the determination.

I wasn’t going to lose him.

Not like this.

Not ever.

I would fight for him the way he had always fought for me.

Even if all I could do right now was wait.

And breathe.

And believe that the man I loved was strong enough to hold on until help arrived.

But just sitting here, paralyzed, felt wrong. Damien was out there fighting for his life because of me, and all I was doing was rocking on the couch. When he came home… I wanted him to see that I was sorry. That I chose him.

I wiped my tears and slowly reached for the notebook and pen on the side table. Writing by hand felt more personal. More real. I angled my body so the notebook was mostly hidden by the laptop if anyone was watching, then started writing.

The words poured out.

Damien,

I’m so sorry.

I never meant to hurt you. When I said I wanted to see my father, I wasn’t choosing him over you. I was trying to face a ghost that’s haunted me my whole life. I thought if I could finally say what I needed to say, I could close that door and be fully yours — fully ours. But I see now how scared you were. How much pain I caused by not telling you about the calls sooner. You begged me not to go, and I still pushed. I hate myself for that.

You are not the Shadow King. You never were. You are my light. My home. The man who kisses my belly every morning and whispers to our daughter like she’s already in your arms. The man who makes me feel safe even when the world feels like it’s falling apart. I love you more than I know how to say. I don’t want to see my father if it means losing even one second with you.

Come home to us. Please. I’m waiting. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your Luna (and Aurora)

I wrote for what felt like hours… page after page  pouring out everything I felt. My love. My guilt. My fear. My promises for the future. I told him about the small things I loved: the way he hummed when he cooked, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the room, the way he made spreadsheets for my cravings because he wanted to take care of me.

Tears blurred the ink on several pages, but I kept writing. It was the only thing I could do right now.

When I finally set the pen down, my hand ached and my eyes were swollen, but I felt a little lighter.

The fear was still there.

But so was the love.

The phone rang again.

This time it was Jack’s number.

I answered instantly, heart in my throat. “Jack? Is he—?”

A familiar, deep voice cut through, tired but unmistakably his.

“Hey, Luna.”

The world stopped.

“Damien?” I choked out, fresh tears flooding my eyes. “Oh my God… Damien. Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay. Please.”

He let out a low, raspy chuckle that sounded painful but so wonderfully alive. “I’m fine. Mostly. A few cuts, a bruised jaw, and my ego took a hit when they drugged me like a rookie. But I’m breathing. Jack’s dragging me to the hospital now. Just a precaution. I told him I’m fine, but he’s being a mother hen.”

I laughed through my sobs, pressing the phone harder to my ear like I could pull him through it. “You’re such an idiot. You get kidnapped and your first joke is about your ego?”

“Had to start strong,” he said, voice warm despite the exhaustion. “Couldn’t let you think I went soft. How are you? How’s Aurora? Tell me you’re both okay. I’ve been losing my mind thinking about you two.”

“We’re okay,” I whispered, wiping my tears. “Scared. Cramping a little from the stress, but she’s kicking like she’s mad at the world. Just like her father. I was so terrified when I saw those photos. I thought… I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t,” he said softly, the teasing edge fading into something deeper. “I’m right here. A little bloody, a little pissed off, but I’m coming home to my girls. Jack says they’ll patch me up quick and release me soon. I just want to see you. Hold you. Kiss that beautiful belly and tell our daughter I’m never leaving you two again.”

I let out a shaky laugh, relief making me lightheaded. “I need that. I need you here. The whole penthouse feels wrong without you. And I wrote you a letter. A long one. I just… I needed to put it all down.”

He hummed, the sound warm and tired. “I can’t wait to read it. God, I miss you. I miss your laugh. I’m sorry I walked out. I was scared. But I’m coming back. I’m coming home to you.”

“I miss you too,” I whispered, tears falling freely again. “So much. Just get here safe. We’ll talk about everything when you’re home. I love you. Both of us do.”

“I love you more,” he murmured. “Tell Aurora I’m on my way. And tell her her daddy is going to read her so many stories when she’s here. The ones with happy endings. Because that’s what we’re getting. Our happy ending.”

I smiled through the tears, hand gently rubbing my belly. “She hears you. She’s kicking like she’s cheering.”

Jack’s voice came on briefly in the background, saying they were pulling up to the hospital. Damien managed one last “I love you” before the call ended.

I lowered the phone, sobbing quietly into my hands, relief and exhaustion crashing over me in waves. He was alive. He was coming home. Hurt, but alive.

I sat there for only a few seconds before the decision hit me like a wave.

I was going to the hospital.

Bed rest be damned. Doctor’s orders be damned. Nothing in this world was going to keep me from seeing my husband with my own eyes.