Panic clawed at Isabella's chest as she sprinted down the dimly lit hallway, her heart slamming against her ribs. Ethan's words echoed in her mind, cold and final.
"You can fight all you want, Isabella. But I always win."
She had to get away. Now.
Her bare feet barely made a sound against the polished marble floor, but she knew he was right behind her. She could feel him, his presence suffocating even when she couldn't see him. Every door she passed was locked. Every exit seemed farther away. It was as if the walls themselves had conspired with him to keep her trapped in his world.
Her breath hitched when she heard his footsteps. Slow. Measured. He wasn't running. He didn't need to.
He knows I have nowhere to go.
A surge of frustration mingled with fear. No. Not this time.
She turned sharply at the end of the corridor, nearly losing her footing, but she caught herself in time. A grand staircase led downward. Maybe she could find a back door, a window—anything.
But before she could descend, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist.
No!
She yelped as Ethan pulled her back, her body colliding with his. He wasn't even out of breath. His grip was firm, unyielding.
"Running won't change anything, Isabella." His voice was calm, but beneath it, there was a warning. "You belong here."
She struggled, twisting against his hold, but he only tightened his grip.
"Let me go, Ethan."
His jaw clenched, his expression darkening. "Why do you keep fighting me?"
She glared at him. "Because I'm not yours to keep."
His fingers loosened just slightly, his expression unreadable. And then—she made her move.
Yanking her arm free, she shoved him back with all the strength she had. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make him stumble. Without wasting a second, she turned and dashed down the stairs, ignoring the sharp sting in her ankle from moving too fast.
She reached the bottom floor, eyes darting around for an escape route. A large window at the end of the hallway caught her attention. The curtains were slightly parted, revealing the night outside.
Hope flared in her chest.
If I can just reach that window—
But just as she took a step forward, a shadow loomed over her.
"You really think I'd make it that easy?"
Her stomach dropped.
No. No, no, no.
Ethan stood in front of her, blocking the window, his expression unreadable. She hadn't even heard him move. How did he—?
Her body tensed as he slowly approached.
"I admire your determination," he murmured, his voice almost gentle. "But we both know how this ends."
Isabella's hands balled into fists. "You can't keep me here."
Ethan tilted his head, his gaze assessing. "I'm not keeping you here. You're the one who came back."
She flinched.
It was true. She had come back—after telling herself she never would.
But why?
Was it fear? Was it something else?
Ethan must have noticed the flicker of doubt in her eyes, because his lips curved into a knowing smirk. "See? Even you don't know what you want."
Her chest tightened.
That's not true. I know what I want. I want to be free.
Then why was there a part of her that wasn't sure?
The tension between them thickened, the silence stretching dangerously.
Would she ever be able to escape him?
Did she even want to?