Elena's mind raced as the man's sinister smile widened, his words hanging in the air like a loaded gun. He had cut off her connection to Damien, isolating her just as they had planned, but the terror clawing at her chest was all too real. She forced herself to keep breathing, to stay in character, even as every instinct screamed for her to run.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice trembling.
The man chuckled, circling her slowly. "It's not what I want, Miss Cruz. It's what you can offer. You're the key to dismantling Damien Blackwell's empire. And you don't even know it."
"I'm nobody," Elena said, stepping back as he closed the distance between them. "I don't have anything to do with him."
"Come now," he said, his tone condescending. "You're much more important than you think. Damien's obsession with you says it all. He's protecting something—or someone."
Elena's stomach twisted as his words struck too close to the truth. Could they really believe she was carrying Damien's child? Or were they trying to confirm their suspicions?
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice cracking.
"Let's stop pretending, shall we?" The man leaned in, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Tell me, Miss Cruz. Are you carrying his heir?"
Her breath caught, and she froze. He smiled at her hesitation, taking it as confirmation.
"Well," he said, straightening. "That makes this even more interesting."
"Please," Elena whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. "Just leave me alone."
"Not until you come with me," the man said, his voice hardening. "You'll be my leverage, and Damien will give me everything I want."
Panic surged through her, but she held her ground. "I won't go anywhere with you."
The man's smile faded, replaced by a cold glare. "That wasn't a request."
As he reached for her arm, Elena's fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. She grabbed a nearby lamp and swung it with all her strength, smashing it against his shoulder. He stumbled back, cursing, and she bolted for the door.
Her heart pounded as she ran down the hallway, her bare feet slapping against the carpet. She didn't know where she was going—only that she had to get away. But before she could reach the elevator, strong hands grabbed her from behind, yanking her back.
"You've got spirit," the man growled, dragging her toward the stairwell. "But it won't save you."
Elena struggled, her nails digging into his arm as she fought to break free. "Let me go!"
The door to the stairwell burst open, and two more men appeared, their faces masked and their weapons drawn. Her stomach plummeted as they closed in, her strength fading.
Then, like a thunderclap, the sound of gunfire echoed through the hall.
Elena screamed as the man holding her dropped to the floor, a crimson stain spreading across his chest. She turned to see Damien storming down the hallway, his gun raised and his expression murderous.
"Get your hands off her," he snarled, firing another shot that took down one of the masked men.
The remaining man hesitated, his grip tightening on his weapon. But before he could react, Marcus appeared from the other end of the hallway, his gun trained on the intruder.
"Drop it," Marcus ordered, his tone cold.
The man hesitated for a fraction of a second before throwing his weapon to the ground and raising his hands. Marcus moved in quickly, disarming and restraining him while Damien rushed to Elena's side.
"Are you hurt?" Damien asked, his hands cupping her face as he searched her for injuries.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice shaking. "I—I thought you wouldn't make it in time."
"I told you I'd protect you," he said, his voice softer now. "And I meant it."
Elena nodded, tears streaming down her face as she clung to him. The fear that had gripped her began to ebb, replaced by the overwhelming relief of being in his arms.
"We need to move," Marcus said, dragging the restrained man toward the elevator. "This place is compromised."
Damien nodded, his arm tightening around Elena. "Let's go."
As they made their way to the elevator, Elena couldn't shake the feeling that something was still off. The way the man had spoken, his confidence that she was carrying Damien's child—it felt calculated, almost rehearsed.
Once inside the elevator, she turned to Damien. "They knew, didn't they? About the plan."
Damien's jaw tightened. "It's possible. Someone might have tipped them off."
"Who?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Who would betray us?"
His silence spoke volumes.