♡ THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE ♡
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♡ MARIAN ♡
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I choked out a dry cough, chuckling nervously and clapping my hands together, literally doing anything and everything I could think of just to keep myself distracted from the fact that I had just embarrassed myself enough to last for a ten-year span.
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"Okay. I'm going to get dressed then," I mumbled, trying to reclaim whatever shred of dignity I had left.
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His face immediately slipped back into its usual stoic expression, but his dark eyes slowly traveled up and down my body. There was a look in his gaze that I couldn't quite comprehend at first. No, scratch that. It was definitely amusement.
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Pure, condescending amusement.
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"You can do better than this?" he mused dryly, gesturing vaguely at my outfit.
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My mouth opened on its own in disbelief.
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The nerve.
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I quickly wrapped my arms around myself, jerking backward to escape the intense gaze dissecting me. It wasn’t like I chose to dress like this. I didn't even dress like a total slob before all this happened. Every single bit of my current wardrobe situation was because I had been kidnapped, and his men had no courtesy to let me grab my actual clothes. All Martini had managed to buy me were massive, oversized gowns that looked like they were specifically sown for someone's eighty-year-old grandma.
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I didn't reply him, I just rolled my eyes discreetly enough for him not to notice. His jokes weren't even funny.
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I turned and ran back into the bedroom, pulling out the best dress from the tragic selection in the closet. I threw it on and looked in the mirror, but the reflection only somehow managed to depress me further.
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I looked like a giant marshmallow. Even my freckles were beginning to fade from being locked indoors for too long. I grabbed the excess fabric of the dress at the back, twisting it tightly just to create some sort of flattering fit on my frame, but I let it go almost immediately with a sigh.
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Damn, my stomach was so bloated today. It looked like someone had tied off a water balloon and shoved it under my clothes.
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Shaking my head, I ran outside, deciding that my appearance shouldn't even be my problem right now. I shouldn't be wasting precious energy worrying about looking like a disfigured zombie. Instead, I needed to focus all my brainpower on planning how to escape the second my feet touched the pavement outside.
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As I passed the kitchen, I grabbed the smartphone resting on the counter. It was useless to me, though. It was completely under their surveillance and control. The only thing I could do without triggering some sort of security lock was scroll through TikTok. The one time I had desperately tried to log into my Facebook account to signal for help, the phone had instantly booted me out and locked the app down.
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I must admit, his tech guys were fast.
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But today, I was going to show them how much faster I could be.
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I followed Damien down the grand staircase, squinting my eyes at the back of his head. He was giving off untouchable power vibes.
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Honestly, I would probably misuse my power too if I had that kind of influence, so I couldn't even blame him. I just followed behind his broad shoulders like a lost child.
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Out front, one of the heavily armed guards stepped forward and opened the car door for me. I gave him a small, polite thank you before hopping into the plush leather seat.
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The drive to the city was so silent that I was convinced I had definitely grown into a plant just from the agony of not being able to speak for that long. Damien didn't utter a single syllable. He didn't even bother giving me a list of instructions on what to say or what not to say at the doctor's office.
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His confidence was infuriating. What on earth made him confident enough to just casually take a captive out of his secure fortress and drive her into a public space? He didn't think I'd try anything?
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When we finally arrived at the hospital complex, he still didn't say a word. I kept my mouth shut and simply followed behind him, my eyes darting frantically in every direction. I was studying every single exit, every emergency door, and every hallway that led into the various wings of the building.
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We got into the elevator and headed all the way up to the twelfth floor.
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The moment the doors slid open, it became obvious how deep his roots ran here. People- nurses, doctors, administrative staff-literally bowed their heads as he walked past. They showed him nothing but respect. He marched down the hallway and walked right into a private office without even bothering to knock.
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Seeing my chance, I stopped dead in my tracks, refusing to cross the threshold. I sank into one of the cushioned chairs lined up in the empty lobby area.
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"Follow me," he commanded, pausing at the door and looking back at me with a hard glare.
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Yeah, right. Like I was just going to walk into another room I couldn't escape from.
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I immediately held my head, forcing my face to contort into the best expression of agonizing pain I could come up with on short notice. I slowly increased the volume of my breathing, making it sound shallow and ragged.
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"You know I am asthmatic," I wheezed out, my voice trembling as I reached into my pocket, pretending to desperately search around for an inhaler. "I can't... I really can't walk for long without feeling completely out of breath. My chest hurts."
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Damien didn't blink. He just stared at me, completely unbothered. "You've taken exactly seventeen steps in total from the elevator."
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I met his icy eyes, and all the fake show of agonizing pain disappeared from my face like a switch had been flipped.
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"That's creepy," I muttered under my breath, abandoning the act. I thought he was going to lose his temper or force me to get up and follow him, but he didn't. He just gave me a long, warning look before turning around and disappearing into the doctor's office, closing the door behind him.
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The lobby was completely quiet. There was a secretary sitting at the front desk a few feet away, typing furiously on her computer. I sat there, my heart hammering against my ribs, waiting for the perfect window. My luck turned a minute later when a phone rang on the desk. The secretary answered it, muttered a few words, gathered a folder, and hurried down the adjacent hallway, leaving me alone in the lobby.
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I didn't think twice. This was my only shot.
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I reached into my pocket, pulled out the smartphone I had grabbed from the house, and dropped it right onto the chair. I was a hundred percent sure that piece of junk had a live tracker on it, and I wasn't about to let them follow me. My chest was actually tight now from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I pulled out my inhaler from my pocket, shook it, and took a deep puff, holding the medicine in my lungs to steady my frantic, shallow breathing.
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Once my lungs cleared, I bolted.
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I didn't take the elevator. I pushed through the heavy exit door and ran down the emergency stairwell, my heart in my throat, my feet flying down the concrete steps until I burst out into the ground floor. I blended into the crowd, pushed through the sliding glass doors, and hit the bright, open street.
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I ran like my life depended on it.And technically, it did.
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Two blocks down, like an answer to my prayers, I saw the blue and white sign of a local police station. Relief washed over me so fast I almost sobbed. I sprinted up the concrete step, ran through the double doors, and practically collapsed against the high front counter.
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The first officer I met, a middle-aged man with a tired expression, looked up from his paperwork in surprise.
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"Please," I gasped out, my voice shaking with terror. "You have to help me. I've been kidnapped. I've been held hostage for two months by the Angelini family. There's a man named Damien, he has a torture chamber, he..."
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The officer's expression shifted from boredom to alertness. "Whoa, slow down, young lady. Take a breath," he said, pulling out a notepad. "Start from the beginning. Give me the details."
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The words poured out of me. I narrated everything that had happened to me over the last two months, the threats, the house, the terrifying conversation I had overheard just an hour ago from Angelini Senior. The officer listened intently, nodding his head and scribbling notes.
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"Alright," the officer said, closing his notepad and standing up. "You're safe here. I need you to sit right over there on that bench while I excuse myself to take a closer look into this and start taking the necessary steps. I'll be right back."
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I nodded quickly, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead. I walked over to the bench he pointed out, sinking into the hard plastic seat.
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I felt safe again. I had done it. I had escaped.
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I closed my eyes, letting my head rest back against the cold wall, finally letting my shoulders drop.
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"Marian." A deep gentle voice that I had grown to recognised
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My eyes snapped open, and the breath was instantly sucked right out of my lungs.
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Leaning casually against the wall right beside my bench, with his hands tucked loosely into his suit pockets, was Damien. He looked completely unbothered, perfectly composed, and entirely at home in the middle of a police station.
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A dark smile played on his lips as he looked down at me
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"You know," Damien murmured, tilting his head slightly, "I'm really beginning to enjoy our little games."
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and then Add to home screen.