From Chains to Forever

The penthouse plunged into darkness, the city lights beyond the glass walls the only glow in the room. Evelyn's heart slammed against her ribs, her hand still gripped in Damian's, his touch a burning anchor in the chaos. The intercom's warning—*"Someone's in the building"*—echoed in her mind, tangled with the image of that woman in her mother's trailer, holding pills, the red scrawl promising to expose her darkest secret. She wasn't just fighting for her career anymore. She was fighting for her life.

"Stay close," Damian whispered, his voice a low growl, possessive and steady, pulling her toward the door. His body shielded hers, his free hand reaching for something under his jacket—a gun, she realized, her stomach lurching. The Damian she'd met in the conference room, all polished suits and calculated words, was gone. This was a man ready to kill for her.

"Where's Tommy?" she hissed, her eyes straining in the dark. Lila was beside her, clutching her arm, but Tommy—her childhood friend, now a reluctant pawn in this nightmare—was nowhere in sight.

"He's with my team," Damian said, his voice clipped as he led them toward the private elevator. "We need to get to the safe room. Now."

"Safe room?" Lila muttered, her voice shaky but sharp. "What is this, a spy movie? Evie, this is insane."

Evelyn didn't answer, her mind racing. The photo of her mother, the voice on the phone, Tommy's betrayal, Vincent's gun—it was all closing in, and Damian's presence, his fierce need to protect her, was both her lifeline and her cage. She wanted to pull away, to run, but his hand on hers, warm and unyielding, made her feel something she hated: safe. Wanted. His.

"Stop it," she whispered, more to herself than him, her voice trembling as she fought the pull of his touch, the way his closeness made her heart stutter. She was Evelyn Hart, damn it. She didn't belong to anyone. But the way he looked at her, even in the dark, like she was his entire world, was unraveling her control.

"Stop what?" Damian asked, pausing at the elevator, his eyes finding hers in the dim light, intense and searching. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, Evelyn. Not now."

Her breath hitched, a flush creeping up her neck despite the fear. "You don't own me," she said, but her voice lacked conviction, her body leaning into his warmth against her will. She hated it—hated how much she wanted to let go, to let him take over, to be his in this moment of chaos.

"I know," he said, his voice softer now, almost raw. "But I'm not losing you. Not to Vincent, not to whoever's out there. Say yes, Evelyn. Let me keep you safe."

Her heart pounded, torn between defiance and the desperate need to survive. Marriage. A contract to shield her from Vincent, from the shadows of her past. It was a cage, but it was also a fortress, and she was running out of options.

Before she could answer, a loud *thud* echoed from the stairwell, followed by the sound of boots on concrete. Damian's grip tightened, his gun now in hand, his body a wall between her and the door. "Lila, stay behind me," he ordered, his voice low, lethal.

Lila nodded, her usual sass gone, her hand clutching Evelyn's like a lifeline. "Evie, we need to get out of here," she whispered, her voice trembling.

The elevator dinged, but the doors didn't open. A red light flickered on the panel—locked. Damian cursed under his breath, pulling Evelyn toward a side door. "Stairs," he said. "There's a safe room two floors down."

They moved fast, Damian leading, his gun raised, Evelyn and Lila close behind. The stairwell was dark, the air cold and heavy with the echo of their footsteps. Evelyn's mind raced—Tommy's words about someone above Vincent, the woman in the trailer, her mother's death. Whoever was behind this wasn't just after her career. They wanted her broken.

At the landing, Damian paused, listening. A faint sound—metal scraping, like a door being forced—came from below. "They're close," he whispered, his eyes locking on hers. "Whatever happens, stay with me."

Her heart twisted, his possessiveness both infuriating and intoxicating. She wanted to push back, to tell him she could handle this, but the fear, the darkness, his unwavering strength—it was too much. "I'm not saying yes yet," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm here. For now."

His eyes softened, a flicker of something raw passing through them. "That's enough," he said, his voice a promise that made her chest ache.

They descended another flight, the safe room's steel door in sight, when a figure stepped out of the shadows below. Not Vincent. Not Tommy. A woman, tall and gaunt, her face half-lit by the emergency lights. Evelyn froze, her breath catching. The woman from the trailer photo, holding a bottle of pills in the image, now stood before her, her dark eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"You," Evelyn whispered, her voice breaking. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled, thin and cold, her voice eerily calm. "You don't remember me, Evie? I worked for your mother. Took care of her when you left her behind."

Evelyn's stomach dropped, memories flooding back—her mother's nurse, the one who'd been there in her final days, who'd found her after the overdose. "Clara?" she said, the name a ghost on her tongue.

Clara's smile widened, but it was all wrong, twisted with something dark. "You left her to die, Evie. Ran off to chase your dreams. But I didn't forget. And neither did they."

"They?" Evelyn asked, her voice shaking. "Who's paying you? Vincent?"

Clara laughed, a sound that sent chills down Evelyn's spine. "Vincent's a pawn, just like Tommy. You'll see soon enough."

Damian stepped forward, his gun trained on Clara. "Back off," he said, his voice a low growl. "Or you're done."

Clara didn't flinch, her eyes locked on Evelyn. "You can't run from the truth, Evie. It's coming out tomorrow. And when it does, no one—not even him—can save you."

Evelyn's heart pounded, her mother's death—the overdose, the fight, the guilt—crashing over her. She'd told the world it was a car accident, but Clara knew the truth. And now, so did whoever was pulling the strings.

Damian grabbed Evelyn's arm, pulling her toward the safe room. "We're done here," he said, his voice fierce, possessive. "Lila, now."

Lila scrambled after them, but Clara's voice followed, cold and taunting. "You can't hide forever, Evie. Not from me. Not from him."

The safe room's door loomed ahead, but as Damian punched in the code, a loud *bang* echoed from the stairwell above—a gunshot. Evelyn's breath stopped, her body pressed against Damian's as he shoved the door open, pulling her and Lila inside. The steel slammed shut behind them, locking with a heavy thud.

---

Inside the safe room, a small, fortified space with monitors and a single desk, Evelyn's knees gave out. She sank into a chair, her hands shaking, her mind a mess of fear and guilt. Damian knelt in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes burning into hers.

"You're safe now," he said, his voice low, urgent. "I've got you."

She wanted to believe him, wanted to sink into the promise of his words, but Clara's taunt—*"The truth comes out tomorrow"*—was a knife in her chest. "My mom," she whispered, her voice breaking. "They know what I did. What I didnGa naar veilige modus't do."

Damian's grip tightened, his touch possessive but grounding. "Whatever happened, it's not your fault," he said. "And I won't let them use it against you. Marry me, Evelyn. Let me fight this with you."

Her heart raced, torn between fear and the pull of his gaze. She was losing control, her walls crumbling under the weight of his need, his desire to claim her as his to protect. "If I say yes," she said, her voice trembling, "it's not because I'm yours. It's because I'm out of options."

His eyes softened, a rare vulnerability breaking through. "I'll take it," he said, his voice a whisper. "For now."

Lila, pacing near the monitors, spun around. "Guys, hate to interrupt the love fest, but we've got a problem."

She pointed to a screen showing the stairwell. Clara was gone, but Vincent Kane stood there, his gun in hand, his goons behind him. And next to him, holding a phone, was Tommy, his face pale but resolute, like he'd made a choice.

Evelyn's heart stopped. "Tommy," she whispered, betrayal cutting deep. He wasn't just a victim. He was working with Vincent, with Clara, with whoever wanted her destroyed.

And as Vincent looked directly into the camera, his icy smile chilling her to the bone, her phone buzzed with a new message: *Say goodbye to your secrets, Evie. The world knows tomorrow.