One Hundred & Twenty Three

One Hundred & Twenty Three
Amara barely slept.

Every time she drifted off, her mind dragged her back to the buzz of her phone, to the words burned into her memory.

“ I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

They echoed in the quiet room, sharp and cruel.

When morning finally came, pale light slipping through the heavy curtains, she woke with a start.

Her hand slid across the bed.

Empty.

Her heart jumped…then she heard it. The soft sound of movement.

She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked toward the mirror.

Darius stood there, already dressed. Dark shirt. Jacket fitted perfectly to his broad shoulders. His hair was neat, his expression calm…but she knew him well enough now to see the tension in his jaw.

He caught her reflection in the mirror.

“You’re awake,” he said softly.

She sat up fully, pulling the sheet around herself. “I thought you were gone.”

“No love.” He turned to face her. “I have to step out again for a few hours.”

Her chest tightened. “Because of the message?”

“Yes.” He didn’t lie. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on her knee. “I need to handle something before he gets closer to you.”

She searched his face. “Is it my father?”

He paused. Just long enough to tell her the answer was complicated. “He’s part of it.”

Her fingers curled into the sheets. “I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

“I know.” His voice softened. “And I hate doing it. But some things are safer if you don’t carry them.”

She sighed, defeated but trusting. “So what happens to me while you’re gone?”

“You stay here,” he said firmly. “One guard. No calls except mine. If you need anything…anything…you call me immediately.”

She nodded, though unease lingered. “Promise you’ll come back.”

His mouth curved into a small smile. “I always do.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead…slow, grounding…and then stood.

“I’ll be back before sunset,” he said.

She watched him leave the room, the door closing softly behind him.

The mansion felt too quiet without him.

The bodyguard stationed outside her room was polite but distant. He didn’t speak unless spoken to, and even then his answers were clipped.

Amara wandered through the inner rooms, restless. She tried reading. Tried watching television. Tried sketching designs in her notebook.

Nothing held.

Her phone buzzed mid-afternoon.

She froze.

Unknown number.

Her pulse quickened as she opened the message.

You think you’re all grown now.

Hiding behind another man.

I’m going to teach you a lesson for being naughty.

Her hands started to shake.

She didn’t respond.

She stared at the screen until it buzzed again.

You can’t hide forever.

Fear crawled up her spine, cold and sharp.

She stood abruptly and went to the door. “I need to speak to Darius.”

The guard nodded immediately. “I’ll inform him.”

“No,” she said, steadier than she felt. “I’ll call him myself.”

Her fingers hovered for half a second…then she pressed his name.

It rang once.

Twice.

He answered. “Amara.”

“I got another message,” she said, her voice tight. “From the same number.”

Silence on the line.

Then, controlled and dangerous, “Read it to me.”

She did.

When she finished, his voice came low. “Did you respond?”

“No.”

“Good.” A pause. “Listen to me carefully. You are safe. That message wasn’t sent to scare you.”

“Then what?” she asked, her throat tight.

“To make me angry.”

Her breath hitched. “Darius..”

“I know,” he cut in gently. “And I won’t let him touch you. I’m closer than you think.”

She closed her eyes. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he said again. “But you’re not alone. Not anymore.”

She exhaled shakily. “Please hurry back.”

“I’m already on my way.”

The call ended.

Amara stood there for a long moment, phone clutched in her hand.

She tried to steady herself after the call, but the mansion felt different now…like it was holding its breath.

She locked her phone and paced the room, every sound sharper than before. The guard outside shifted once, boots scraping lightly against marble, and it reminded her she wasn’t completely alone. Still, unease sat heavy in her chest.

Minutes stretched.

Then she heard it.

The low rumble of engines.

She rushed to the window and pulled the curtain back just enough to see the long driveway. Two black cars rolled in through the gates. Not Darius’s…she knew his convoy.

Her stomach dropped.

She stepped back from the window just as her phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

“I told you. You can’t hide.”

Her fingers trembled as she typed. “Who is this?”

The reply came instantly.

“You know who. It’s Daddy.”

Her breath left her in a sharp gasp.

Before she could type another word, the door downstairs echoed with the sound of voices… men, deep and unfamiliar. Raised, controlled, dangerous.

Her pulse thundered.

She hurried to the bedroom door and cracked it open. The guard was gone.

Panic surged.

“Hello?” she called softly.

No answer.

Footsteps sounded from below… slow, deliberate. Someone was taking their time.

Her phone buzzed again.

“Come downstairs, Amara. Let’s talk like family.”

Fear and anger twisted together inside her. Her hands clenched at her sides. For years she had been afraid of this man… his power, his temper, the shadow he cast over her life.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore.

She straightened her shoulders.

“I won’t run,” she whispered to herself.

As she stepped into the hallway, another sound cut through the air…the sharp screech of tires outside, followed by the unmistakable slam of car doors.

A voice rang out below. Calm. Cold. Furious.

“Step away from her.”

Darius.

Relief crashed through her so hard her knees nearly gave out.

She rushed to the railing and looked down.

Darius stood in the center of the foyer, jacket off, sleeves rolled, his presence filling the space like a warning. Around him were Matteo’s men..frozen, calculating. And at the center, turning slowly with a dark smile…

Don Matteo.

“Well,” Matteo said smoothly, eyes flicking up to her. “There’s my daughter.”

Darius didn’t take his eyes off him. “You don’t get to call her that.”

Matteo chuckled. “Still playing protector? Careful, boy. You’re forgetting your place.”

Darius’s jaw tightened. “Your place is outside this house. Leave. Now.”

Matteo’s gaze slid back to Amara. “You really chose him,” he said softly. “After everything I gave you.”

“You gave me fear,” she said, her voice shaking but loud enough to carry. “That’s all.”

For the first time, his smile faltered.

Darius moved…one deliberate step closer, solid, unyielding. “She’s done with you. I’d advise you to tread carefully.” His hand swept toward the windows, toward the men stationed outside, guns leveled, ready.

Matteo’s eyes hardened. “This isn’t over.”

“No,” Darius agreed. “It isn’t.”

The air felt charged, seconds from exploding..until Matteo lifted a hand. His men backed away reluctantly.

As he turned to leave, he looked up at Amara one last time. “We’ll talk again,” he said quietly.

The doors closed behind him.

Silence followed.

Amara’s legs finally gave, and Darius was there instantly, catching her, pulling her into his chest. She clung to him, breathing him in like oxygen.

“I told you I’d come back,” he murmured against her hair.

She nodded, tears slipping free. “He scares the hell out me.”

“I know,” Darius said, holding her tighter. “And that’s why this ends soon.”

She looked up at him. “What happens now?”

His eyes grew dark, not with fear, but with determination. Now I make him bleed, he thought.