Chapter 225

BRIELLE

The phone screen went dark, but the image of Damien bound and bruised stayed burned behind my eyelids.

I couldn’t move. My body was locked in place on the couch, hands pressed so tightly against my belly that my nails dug into my skin. Aurora was kicking wildly now, like she could feel the terror rolling off me in waves. Another cramp twisted through my lower abdomen, sharper than the last, forcing a broken sob from my throat.

“Damien…” I whispered, voice cracking. “Please… hold on.”

The stalker’s words kept echoing… that cheerful, childish voice turning serious when she warned me not to call the police. “I know your every movement.” The way she had known about the toast I was eating. She was watching me. Right now. In our own home.

I looked around the penthouse with wide, frantic eyes. Every shadow felt alive. The half-drawn curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows. The dark hallway leading to the bedroom. The gifts from the park on the coffee table — any one of them could have a camera hidden inside. The thought made bile rise in my throat.

I rocked back and forth, trying to breathe through the cramps. “What do I do? What do I do?” The words came out in a broken chant. Calling the police felt impossible with her warning. But doing nothing felt like betraying Damien.

The phone buzzed again.

Another message from the private number.

A new photo.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I hesitated, thumb hovering over the notification. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to know. But I had to. For Damien. For any chance of saving him.

I tapped it.

The image loaded.

It was worse.

Damien was still tied to the chair, but now there was fresh blood. A thin cut across his chest, red and angry. Another on his arm. His jaw looked more swollen, a dark bruise spreading. His eyes were still open…furious, defiant, burning with that unyielding strength I loved so muchbut there was pain there too. Real pain. He was staring straight into the camera like he was trying to reach me through it. Like he was telling me to stay strong.

A sob tore from my throat. I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it came out anyway — raw, broken, terrified. Tears poured down my face as another cramp hit, forcing me to curl forward.

“No… no, no, no,” I whispered, rocking.

Aurora kicked harder, frantic little movements that made the fear spike even higher. I wrapped both arms around my belly, trying to soothe her while my own body trembled violently.

Think, Brielle. You wrote an entire book about surviving when everything felt impossible. Use that.

The panic was suffocating. I couldn’t call the police… the stalker had made that clear. She was watching. She knew about the toast. She knew I was alone. One wrong move and she might hurt him more. Or worse.

But I wasn’t completely helpless.

I remembered something Damien had mentioned once — Jack. His fixer. The man who helped take down the Morettis. The one who operated in the shadows when things got dangerous. I didn’t have his number, but I knew Damien kept emergency contacts. He had shown me once, in case anything ever happened to him.

I had to be discreet.

I glanced around the room again, heart pounding. If she was watching, I couldn’t look obvious. I slowly reached for the remote and turned on the TV, letting some mindless show play at low volume as cover. Then I carefully picked up Damien’s laptop from the side table and opened it on my lap, angling the screen so it looked like I was just browsing.

My fingers trembled as I searched his encrypted folder for “Jack.” It took longer than it should have because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but I found it. A single number labeled “Jack.”

I didn’t call it. Too risky if the stalker was monitoring calls. Instead, I opened a secure messaging app Damien had installed and typed carefully, keeping the message short but clear:

Me: This is Brielle. Damien has been taken. Stalker. Obsessed with The Veiled Heart. Believes it’s real. Calls him the Shadow King. Sent photos of him bound and bleeding. “setting me free.” The stalker is watching me now in the penthouse. Private number. Please help. I’m alone and scared”

I hit send and closed the laptop quickly, heart racing. I hoped Jack would see it soon. I hoped he would know what to do.

The phone buzzed again.

Another message from the private number.

I didn’t want to open it. But I had to.

The new photo loaded.

Damien looked worse. More blood. A deeper cut across his chest. His head was slightly slumped now, but his eyes were still open. The caption underneath read:

He’s strong. Just like in the book. But even the Shadow King fell in the end. Don’t worry, Brielle. I’m making it beautiful for you.

I broke.

A sob tore out of me as I clutched the phone to my chest, rocking harder, tears falling freely. “Please… please stop. I’ll do anything. Just let him go .What do you want from me?!” I screamed into the empty penthouse, my voice raw and furious. “You sick, twisted bitch! What the fuck do you want?! You think this makes you some kind of hero? You’re hurting the man I love! You’re not saving me..you’re destroying me!”

I was shaking violently now, half-sobbing, half-shouting, the words pouring out like I could reach her through the phone.

“You read my book and decided you know my life better than I do? You don’t know shit about me! Damien is not your Shadow King! He’s my husband! He loves me! He protects me! And if you hurt him one more time, I swear I will find you myself and make you regret every single word you’ve ever written to me!”

Another cramp hit, brutal and deep, but I barely felt it through the fury. Aurora was kicking wildly, like she was as angry as I was. I pressed both hands to my belly, breathing hard, tears streaming down my face.

“You want me to thank you? For this? For taking the man who makes me feel safe? You’re delusional. You’re pathetic. Leave him alone!”

The silence after my outburst was deafening. The phone stayed quiet. No new message. No reply. Just the horrible photo of Damien still glowing on the screen.

I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand and grabbed the phone again, heart hammering. I opened the secure app where I had messaged Jack.

He had replied.

Jack: Brielle, stay calm. You’re doing well. I received your message. I’m already working on it. Do NOT call the police yet — she’s monitoring you closely. Here’s what I need you to do: Find a way to make her call. Engage her. Ask questions. Keep her talking as long as possible. I have a trace running. Two minutes is all I need to get a solid location. You’re not alone. I’ve got eyes on this now. Damien is tough, he'll hold on. Focus on keeping her talking. You can do this.”

Relief crashed over me so hard I almost dropped the phone again. Jack was on it. He believed me. He was helping.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself. My hands were still trembling, but the panic had shifted into something sharper — determination.

I could do this.

For Damien.

For Aurora.

For us.