Chapter 5 The Man In The Alley
Vivienne's POV
"No. We have exactly the right one. She's on the roof."
The moment those words reached my ears, fear crashed over me like a tidal wave, drowning every other thought in my mind. All my carefully laid plans of hiding away until this ridiculous wedding was over were crumbling right before my eyes.
I scrambled behind the heavy curtains in my room, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst right out of my chest.
I kept praying, hoping against hope that Raphael wouldn't send one of his men up to my room. But I guess when you really need your prayers answered, that's exactly when they seem to fall on deaf ears.
The sound of my door being opened from the outside made my blood run cold. I wanted to scream, to yell at whoever was at the door to just go away and leave me alone, but the words got stuck somewhere in my throat. My mouth felt dry, my tongue heavy. So I just stood there frozen, hidden in the folds of the curtain, staring at the door like it was the entrance to hell itself, still praying silently that it wouldn't open all the way.
Finally, I managed to force the words out of my mouth, though my voice came out shaky and uncertain.
"What do you want?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.
The voice that replied was calm, almost apologetic, but firm.
"Raphael needs you, Vivienne."
"I'm not interested," I shot back, finding a bit more strength in my voice. "Give him that little piece of information."
"You know he doesn't take no for an answer," the voice continued, and I could hear the slight edge of warning in it. "So I'll give you a little time to get dressed properly, while I go downstairs and prepare your entrance."
Then he left, and I listened to the sound of his footsteps sliding away from my door, growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared completely.
My hands were shaking as I quickly grabbed a pair of oversized trousers from my closet and threw them on, along with an equally oversized shirt. I wasn't trying to look good or presentable. I was trying to be comfortable, ready to move if I needed to. I snatched my phone from the nightstand and then just stood there for a moment, my mind racing through possibilities and escape routes.
While they all waited downstairs, probably discussing how they were going to drag me down there like some prized possession, their attention was pulled away from my door for just a second. That was all I needed. I slipped out of my room as quietly as I could, my heart beating so loud I was sure someone would hear it. I made my way through the house, avoiding the main staircase, and left through the back door.
I had no bag with me. No money in my pockets. No clear idea of where I was going or what I would do once I got there.
All I had was my phone clutched tight in my hand and a fierce, burning determination not to be sold off like some commodity in a business deal disguised as a marriage I didn't want.
I know that getting married to Raphael Moreau is probably the dream of so many young women in this city. To them, it would be like winning the lottery, like achieving something huge that would set them up for life. They see the money, the power, the status that comes with his name.
But to me? It means absolutely nothing. Less than nothing, actually. To me, it's a cage. A beautiful, expensive cage, but a cage all the same.
So I ran. Running away seemed like the only reasonable thing to do at that moment, the only choice that made any sense.
I ran through streets I barely recognized, my lungs burning, my legs aching. The sky had grown dark and heavy with clouds, and I could feel the storm coming before the first drops even started to fall. Then it hit; the Masielo storm they'd been warning about on the news for days.
The rain came down in sheets, soaking me within seconds, making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of me.
I ducked into an alley to catch my breath and get out of the worst of the rain, pressing myself against the cold brick wall.
That's when I saw him.
He was slumped against the opposite wall, his expensive suit torn and soaked with rain and something darker. Blood. There was so much blood, gushing out of his stomach, pooling on the ground around him and mixing with the rainwater. His face was pale, his breathing shallow and ragged.
He'd been shot and left here to die, alone in this alley during a storm, like his life meant nothing at all.
And despite everything I was running from, despite all my fear and anger, I couldn't just walk away and leave him there.
I stood there frozen for what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds, staring at this dying man in the alley. The rain kept pouring down, plastering my hair to my face, and I could hear thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance.
Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to keep running, to save myself, to not get involved in whatever mess this was.
But I couldn't move. I couldn't just leave him there.
"Hey," I called out, taking a hesitant step closer. "Hey, can you hear me?"
His eyes fluttered open, and even in the dim light of the alley, I could see they were a striking grey color. He looked at me like he wasn't quite sure I was real, like maybe I was some kind of hallucination brought on by blood loss.
"You need help," I said, which was probably the most obvious statement I'd ever made in my life. "I need to call an ambulance."
I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands, but before I could unlock it, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong for someone who looked half dead.
"No," he managed to croak out, his voice rough and strained. "No ambulance. No hospitals."
"Are you insane?" I stared at him in disbelief. "You're bleeding out. You need a doctor, you need—"