Chapter 45

Chapter 45

All I needed was a split second opportunity, and I was gone. Just like the sparrows on the wall—darting to heights where Lucien could never reach me.

“Enough. I will not talk about this,” Lucien snapped, his tone stark and unfamiliar. I froze at the shift in his voice. As the sound of rustling clothes filled the air, I bolted into the library, crouching beside a towering bookcase. Through the slats, I watched Lucien’s silhouette pass the door, his stride tight and sharp, heading outside. A quick burst of sunlight filtered in. It called to me, begged me to chase it—to chase freedom.

A car idled outside, but Lucien didn’t climb in. He disappeared from sight, swallowed by the estate’s towering hedges.

I didn’t dare move. My heart thrummed like a trapped bird as celeste’s voice rang out, “I’m heading to the village, Mrs. Julie. It’s my half-day off, and I need to run some errands.”

Though I couldn’t hear Mrs. Julie’s exact reply, the sharp tone hinted at disapproval.

Still, Celeste must have won. I held my breath. Celeste was leaving. This was my chance.

A village meant people. And people meant safety.

Footsteps receded as céleste stomped toward the kitchen.

I didn’t wait. I pushed off the ground like a sprinter from the blocks and dashed into the foyer. My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the door, but finally, it gave way. I raced down the steps toward the car. Please, let there be keys.

The cold slapped my face while the sun burned my eyes. The scent of fresh grass filled my lungs. It smelled like freedom. I would escape. I would survive. Neveah, the survivor.

Panting, I lunged toward the driver’s seat and peered inside.

Nothing. No keys.

Shit. I couldn’t drive—but I could hide. I could ride out of here, tucked in the shadows.

Heart thudding, I yanked open the back door, nearly sobbing with relief when it wasn’t locked. I folded myself into the cramped footwell, pressing my knees to my chest.

Footsteps echoed again.

“Bonjour, François. You’ll drive me to the village?” Céleste’s voice was casual, unaware.

Oh, no. I covered my mouth. Why couldn’t she drive herself? Was no one allowed to leave this place unescorted? Dread sank its teeth into my stomach.

“No problem,” François replied cheerily. “I need some cigarettes, so perfect timing.”

His voice was relaxed. Unbothered. Friendly, even. As if he didn’t work for a man who trafficked women.

The car shifted as Céleste climbed in, smoothing her apron. Francois followed, his heavy frame sinking the seat with a groan. He wore a tailored black suit stretched over thick muscle. He wasn’t just strong—he was lethal.

The engine roared to life, vibrating in my bones. I curled tighter as we rolled away from the estate. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. The three-horse fountain shrank behind us.

The farther we drove, the more my thoughts spiraled. This could fail. If François spotted me, if Lucien found out, I wouldn’t survive it. But if it worked—if this one fragile plan succeeded—I’d never see Lucien again. I’d never hear his voice, smell that maddening scent.

Something twisted in my gut. I hated that he lingered in my senses. He owned my body, rewired my instincts. Pleasure and fear. Desire and rage. My skin remembered him even as I willed myself to forget.

He was a master manipulator. A predator dressed in silk and power. A man who let another hurt me—with a knife handle, no less. If he allowed that, what else could he justify?

My hands curled into fists. I couldn’t afford conflicted emotions. Celeste was wrong. I didn’t feel anything for Lucien—not anymore. With time, my body would be mine again.

Excitement fluttered beneath my ribs as we drove in silence, every second taking me farther from him. Away from captivity. Toward salvation.

Celeste and Francois didn’t speak, and I matched my breath to the hum of the engine. Shallow. Quiet. Unnoticed.

But I had nothing. No money, no phone, no ID. My passport and purse were still at the hotel in greece. I doubted anyone even knew we were missing. Had Adrian gone back? Had he waited? Was he still alive?

I shut down the thought. I couldn’t handle it.

You’re trading intensity for safety, Nevaeh.

That truth stung. I had never been so awake, so painfully alive, as when I was with Lucien. He was wrong, but he made me feel. He made me burn.

I never would’ve admitted it, but I’d brought this nightmare to life with my own dark curiosity. Lucien had cracked something open in me—a part I didn’t know existed. My life with Adrian had been gentle. Careful. But it lacked... fire.

Curled on the car floor, I faced the truth I’d avoided for years. I did love Adrian—but not like I was supposed to. It was familial. Comforting. Never consuming. He gave me a home, and I mistook that for fate.

Guilt choked me. I’d built a life on denial, hurting us both. Tears escaped despite my efforts to stay quiet. If Adrian survived, I would spend the rest of my life trying to be the person he believed I was.

Céleste and François started chatting casually about the weather. I forced myself to focus. I had to stay sharp. The moment to run was coming.

Outside, fields and hedges whipped past. Rolling hills. Cottages like postcards. How could Lucien, a man of such evil, exist in a place this peaceful?

The twisting roads made my stomach churn. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Eventually, the car slowed.

“Can you pull up on Rue La Belle? I won’t be long,” Celeste said.

François murmured in agreement, and after a few turns, the village opened around us. Voices. Music. Footsteps. Life.

I cracked open an eye. Cobblestones, shutters, ivy-draped buildings. My throat caught. I was close. So close.

Celeste stepped out. “Merci, François, à plus tard.”

“I’ll be back in the car in ten minutes,” François said, locking the doors behind him. Then he walked away—disappearing into the sea of townspeople.

I lay t

here, heart pounding, lungs gulping air.

I was alone.

Wait before you run, Finally.