The ropes fell away from Alexander's wrists, and just as I took a step back to let him free himself, the door creaked open. We both froze.
A figure stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light spilling into the room. There was a tense moment of silence as the three of us stared at each other. The figure's eyes darted between me and Alexander. Realization dawned too quickly—he turned on his heel, about to leave and alert the others.
But before he could get the chance, Alexander was on him. The man crumpled to the floor, unconscious, as Alexander delivered a swift blow to the back of his head.
I stood there, staring at him, completely shocked. "How did you—?"
Alexander shot me a look that made me feel stupid for even asking. "I'm an Ashford. We've been trained in different forms of combat for situations like this—or, you know, when you just need to beat someone up." He shrugged nonchalantly, as though knocking someone out was as routine as brushing his teeth.
I blinked, trying to wrap my head around it. "Right," I muttered, less shocked now. "Of course."
He rolled his eyes. "Stop gawking. We don't have time." He gestured for me to follow him, his voice all business-like again.
As we crept out of the room, I couldn't help but glance down at the unconscious body on the floor. His build was different—bulkier than the two men I remembered seeing when I first woke up. A sinking feeling settled in my gut. "Alexander," I whispered, tugging at his arm. "I think there might be more of them. This one's not the same as the ones from before."
Alexander brushed me off, already halfway out the door. "Didn't you say you couldn't see clearly when you woke up? Now you've suddenly developed some kind of super vision?"
My frustration simmered beneath the surface, but I nodded. "Yes, but I've never made a mistake when it comes to measurements. I know what I saw—"
"Not interested," Alexander cut me off, his voice laced with irritation. "We need to move."
My jaw clenched. Of course, he wasn't listening. Typical Alexander—always has to be the right one. I bit back a retort, knowing there wasn't time to argue, but inside, I was fuming. He didn't understand. I wasn't just *guessing*—my eye for details, for measurements, was always spot on. It's the one thing I've ever been sure of. But I swallowed the frustration because arguing with him now could get us killed. And he probably wouldn't care about that either.
We crept out of the room, our footsteps echoing in the silence of what seemed to be an abandoned building. The walls were dark, and the shadows loomed, playing tricks on my already blurry vision. I was practically blind in the dim light, my eyes straining to see past the gloom. Suddenly, my foot caught on something—a loose pile of debris maybe, or maybe just my own feet—and I crashed to the ground with a muffled thud.
I froze.
This wasn't just about the noise or the possibility of being caught. This was about *me*. My body, my weakness, always betraying me when I needed to be strong. My heart pounded in my chest, the fear and shame intertwining. Why did this keep happening? Why couldn't I just be capable for once, like Alexander, who seemed to handle everything with infuriating ease?
We both held our breath, listening for any sound of approaching footsteps. But nothing came.
Alexander crouched next to me, his face twisted with frustration. "Are you *fucking* serious? How hopeless can you be to not know how to use your own legs?"
His words hit harder than the fall. Hopeless. That's how he saw me. And worse, that's how I was beginning to see myself. The truth was, I *was* scared—scared of failing again, scared of being nothing more than a burden. Since I'd been captured, every little thing I did seemed to go wrong. I couldn't see properly, I couldn't keep up, and now this.
I was supposed to be good at something. But here, none of that mattered.
And I hated it.
Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was the frustration of feeling so utterly useless, but my temper snapped. "Maybe if you weren't such a self-righteous jerk, I wouldn't have fallen!"
He glared at me, and we both knew this wasn't the time to argue, but I was fed up. His constant condescension, the way he looked at me like I was a liability—it all just boiled over.
Our whispers turned into a heated exchange until we heard someone in the room we had just escaped from. One of the kidnappers must have found the body.
"They're gone! And someone's knocked out!" a voice shouted, loud enough to echo through the empty halls.
Alexander didn't waste a second. "No time," he muttered before hauling me onto his back, carrying me like a child. "Hold on."
I gasped in surprise as he stood, moving quickly and silently through the narrow, dark corridors. His grip on me was firm, secure, but all I could think about was how pathetic I must have seemed to him—constantly needing to be saved, carried, looked after.
"Do you even know where you're going?" I whispered, gripping onto him for balance, my pride stinging. This was the closest we'd been to each other since our marriage. It felt...odd, unsettling.
He scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you do? If you're not going to be helpful, just keep quiet and enjoy being carried—like usual."
His words cut deeper than they should have. I wasn't *useless*. I wasn't a burden. I wasn't… But maybe I was. A lump formed in my throat, and before I could stop myself, I slapped him on the back of his head.
"You're such an asshole! What have I ever done to you?"
He growled, his anger flaring. Without hesitation, he dropped me—hard—onto the ground.
I hit the floor with a sharp thud, pain shooting up my side as I bit back a scream. *Hopeless*. The word echoed in my mind again, and I hated it. "What the hell, Alexander!"
"You want to know what you've done? You came into my life without warning, and I can't even get rid of you. I have to spend five good years with you and that hideous scar."
I was about to snap back, but then it hit me—I'd been too loud. My eyes widened in panic, and I slapped my hands over my mouth.
But it was too late. Footsteps, heavy and fast, pounded closer. We were surrounded before we had a chance to make another move.
Alexander muttered a quiet, "Fuck," under his breath as he shoved me behind him, his body tense as though preparing for a fight.
But it was pointless—we were outnumbered.
They didn't waste any time tying us up again—this time back to back. The ropes dug into my wrists, tighter than before. Alexander's breath was shallow beside me, but I could tell he was still thinking, still trying to find a way out.
"This is your fault," he hissed. "If you'd just kept quiet, we wouldn't be in this mess again."
"Is this really the time to be blaming me?" I shot back, though the self-doubt still gnawed at me. He wasn't completely wrong.
Before either of us could say more, a man stepped forward from the group. His face was hidden, but something about the way he carried himself made me think he was older. He stood in front of Alexander, his voice low and calm.
"You're the Ashford kid, aren't you? The one in charge of the expansion?"
Alexander didn't flinch. "I am."
The man's posture shifted slightly, and I could hear the tension in his voice when he asked, "So, you're the one responsible for tearing down our homes?"
Alexander's voice was steady. "Yes. But every building we bought was compensated for."
Someone else, angrier and less restrained, rushed forward. "Compensated? You left us to starve, you bastard!" The man's fist connected with Alexander's face, and I felt him jerk against the ropes. "My kid died because I couldn't afford his medicine after you tore down my business, and you talk about compensation?"
Before he could land another punch, the older man pulled him back. "That's enough. We can't afford to kill him."
Alexander spat blood but didn't back down. "I allocated the compensation myself. There's no way you didn't get it."
"Bullshit!" the man who'd hit him shouted. "None of us got a damn thing!"
I could feel Alexander tense beside me, his confusion palpable. "That's not possible."
There was a pause, and for the first time since this nightmare started, I realized Alexander might actually be telling the truth.
"It looks like there's been a mix-up," I said quietly, focusing on Alexander. "And we need to figure out what really happened here."