Chapter 67 Sixty eight
Elena's POV
Despair is heavy, it sits in your chest and turns the world gray. But after days, it can curdle into a plan.
I studied the east garden wall from the window. The guards had a pattern which I have memorised.
I also found a blind spot :one full minute where no one looked at the corner with the thick ivy.
It gave me one minute to climb.
One minute to reach the top.
One minute to drop into the alley and vanish.
I did not pack as there was nothing to take. I wore dark pants and a dark sweater and waited anxiously for dusk, for when the light was weak and the shadows were long.
I slipped from the terrace into the garden with a soft thud. The air was cool on my skin sending a chill to my spine.
I scampered to the hedges, my heart beating hard against my ribs. I stayed in the shadows until reached the wall. I ran my hands over the walls, the stone was rough and cold, but I finally found a grip. I began to climb, my one minute was running out fast.
It was harder than it looked, stones scraped my palms and my muscles shook. I did not look down. I focused on the next handhold. Up. Just up.
My fingers closed over the top ledge. The city was right there. Lights and noise and life. Freedom was a cold wind on my sweaty face. I pulled.
Hands seized my ankles. The grip was iron. It yanked me backward. My stomach slammed against the stone. All the air left my lungs. I cried out.
I was dragged down. It was a violent fall. Strong arms caught me. They clamped around me, holding me tight.
I twisted. I kicked. I fought.
It was not a guard. It was Matteo.
His face was white. His eyes were black with a fury I had never seen. A cold, silent rage. He did not yell. He did not curse.
He just held me. One arm locked around my waist, pinning my arms. His other hand fisted in my sweater. He carried me, my feet dragging, back toward the house.
I fought harder. I screamed. It was a raw, ugly sound. He ignored it.
He did not take me to a room. He walked through the main hall. Servants looked away. He kicked open a heavy door.
Stairs led down. The air smelled of concrete and oil. A garage.
He carried me down. He did not stumble.
The garage was cold. Harsh lights hung from the ceiling. Cars stood in neat rows.
He walked to a low, black car. He opened the passenger door. He put me in the seat. Not gently. He pushed me down. He leaned over me, his hands on the doorframe. His face was close. His eyes were empty cold.
"Stay," he said. One word. A command.
He slammed the door. It locked.
I grabbed the handle. It was useless.
He got in the driver's seat. He started the engine. It roared. He drove fast out into the night.
The coastal road whipped past. The sea was a black pit beside us. He drove faster. Tires screeched on turns. The car leaned hard.
He took a curve too fast. The back of the car slid toward the drop. I saw the empty blackness outside my window.
He didn't slow down.
He braked hard. The car skidded to a stop. The front tires hung over the edge. Gravel spilled into the void.
The engine idled. Headlights cut over nothing.
He looked at me. His face was hard in the dashboard glow.
"This is the alternative, Elena," he said. His voice was rough. "Chaos, danger, death. Or the order and protection I provide." He leaned closer. "There. Is. No. Third. Option."
I looked at the abyss. I looked at him. The fury in the car was thick.
I understood. Finally.
This was my choice. His prison, or no prison at all. Just an end.
I nodded. Once. A stiff understanding.
He reversed the car from the edge. He turned us around. He drove back to the house in silence.
The compound walls rose ahead, lit up and waiting. My order. My protection. My life.
The fight to leave was over. A different fight was just beginning.
Matteo
I knew she would try. Despair turns to defiance. Defiance demands action. She is a strategist. She watched the walls for days.
I watched her watch. I made the blind spot wider. I made the timing obvious. I wanted her to try. I needed to see the attempt. I needed to end that hope for good.
I followed her into the garden. I was a shadow. I watched her climb. She was strong. Determined. For a moment, I felt a painful pride. She was magnificent.
Then cold fury drowned it. She would rather die on the rocks than stay in my world. Than stay with me.
I moved when her fingers found the ledge. I grabbed her ankles. I pulled her down. I caught her. She fought like a wild thing in my arms. Her scream cut through me. I locked the feeling away. Only the cold rage remained.
I carried her. I did not speak. Words were useless.
I took her to the garage. A place of hard lines. No softness.
I put her in the car. I told her to stay. The doors locked. My control was absolute here.
I drove. Fast. The coastal road was a black ribbon. I pushed the car. I wanted her to feel the only real alternative. Not escape. Chaos. Oblivion.
I took the Viadotto Sereno curve too fast. The car skidded toward the drop. I didn't brake. I steered into it. I stopped with the front tires over the edge.
The void was right there. The ultimate freedom.
I looked at her. She was pale. Scared. But not broken.
"This is the alternative," I told her. My voice was raw. "Chaos, danger, death. Or the order and protection I provide. There. Is. No. Third. Option."
She looked from the nothingness to me. I saw the calculation. The cold acceptance.
She nodded.
It wasn't surrender. It was a treaty. An understanding of the new borders.
I reversed. I drove us home. The walls of my world welcomed us back.
She was quiet. The fight to escape was gone. Something harder had taken its place.
I had shown her the cliff. She had chosen the wall. My wall.
It was the only victory left. It tasted like ash.