ANASTASIA POV
William betrayed me.
He didn't just break my trust or my love—he shattered me completely, tearing apart every fiber of my being.
If someone had told me years ago that this would happen—back when William was the loving, caring boyfriend who doted on me—I would have laughed in their face. If they had dared to suggest that William could ever do something like this to me without a second thought, I would have argued with them and demanded they apologize to him.
But it was all ironic, really.
Everything was as clear as daylight now. I mean, how could it not be when I was standing there, gripping a knife in my trembling hand, pointed directly at the man who had tried to force himself on me just moments ago?
"D-drop the knife, we can talk about this in a civilised way, without violence," he stammered, his voice trembling with fear.
"Without violence?" I echoed, my voice laced with venom as I narrowed my eyes, glaring at him. I fought to hold back the wave of tears threatening to spill.
"You didn't say that a while ago, did you? You weren't saying that when you were ripping my clothes!" I yelled, my voice cracking as my breath came out ragged and uneven.
It was bad—really bad. Whatever drug William had forced into me was already taking effect. My body felt unbearably hot, the ache growing stronger with every passing second. I couldn't ignore it anymore, no matter how hard I tried.
"B-but you can't do this!" he stammered, his voice rising in desperation. "I had a deal with your husband. We agreed I'd have you for just one night, and now you're going against your word! Do you even know how much your husband is getting for this deal?"
His words hit me like a slap, each one more disgusting than the last. My grip on the knife tightened, my knuckles turning white as I glared at him.
"You made a deal with my husband to have sex with me without my consent, and you're saying that so casually?" I hissed through clenched teeth, my voice trembling with rage. "What you did, Lucas, isn't just some deal—it's a crime!"
I took a step closer, the knife steady in my hand. "And I will make sure you and William are punished for this. Mark my words. Now back away from the door slowly and put your hands up in the air," I commanded, my tone cold. "Or I swear to God, I won't be able to control my hands."
For a moment, no one moved and everything seemed frozen. My grip on the knife tightened, my knuckles turning white as I held my ground. Just when I thought Lucas would finally back away from the door, he didn't.
Instead, he stood his ground, his glare hardening as a scoff escaped his lips. "You think you can scare me with that knife?" he sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "You don't have it in you, Anastasia. You're nothing but a timid little housewife without a spine."
Wrong.
"And here you are, waving that knife around. If you drop it now, maybe I'll think about—"
He never got the chance to finish his sentence because a cry tore from his lips.
Lucas's eyes widened in horror as he clutched his bleeding hand, staring at me in pure shock. His breath hitched, his expression faltering as the pain from the cut sank in. I didn't hesitate, not for a second.
"I won't repeat myself again," I said coldly, my grip tightening on the knife. "Back away from the door, and keep your hands where I can see them. The next time I say those words, you'll regret it."
This time, he moved faster than a frightened rabbit, following my instructions without hesitation.
I narrowed my eyes, watching him closely as he backed away from the door, all his earlier confidence disappearing in an instant.
Taking a shaky breath, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and tried to steady my nerves. My body felt too hot, burning with a need I couldn't ignore, the ache between my legs growing more intense.
I needed a doctor, and I needed one fast.
Without bothering to cover myself, I walked slowly toward the door, the knife still aimed at him. My hands shook with each step, but I didn't waver. Reaching the door, I opened it carefully with trembling hands.
"If you see William first," I said, my voice cold and firm, "tell him this: I will make sure he rots in jail for what he's done. And you—don't even think about following me."
With that, I turned and ran out of the room, not sparing him another glance. My heart pounded furiously in my chest as I sprinted through the club's corridor.
I could feel the gazes of people on me as I ran. I couldn't afford to stop; I wasn't safe until I was far away from this cursed place. But I didn't have a phone, and I needed to call the cops.
"Please, can you give me your phone? I need to make a call. It won't take long," I gasped, stopping a server who was cleaning up a mess on the floor.
Her eyes widened when she saw my state, especially the knife still clenched in my hand and she instinctively backed away in fear.
"I-I don't have a phone. Please leave me," she began to say, her voice breaking as she tried to move away. But before she could, I grabbed her hand, stopping her as tears welled up in my eyes.
"Please, I really need your help. I need to call the cops. I was drugged, and I don't have a phone. It won't take long," I pleaded, my voice trembling with desperation. After a brief moment, she looked at me, then nodded hesitantly, handing me her phone.
"Thank you, thank you so much," I breathed out, relief washing over me as I dialed 911 but before I could get through to the cops, a yell stopped me dead in my tracks.
"There she is! Get her and don't let her escape!" I turned toward the voice to see Luca's bodyguards charging toward me.
Without a second thought, I handed the woman her phone and bolted, desperate to escape the men who were hot on my heels.
As I fled, I had no idea where I was headed to but I knew one thing for certain: I had to keep running, or the consequences would be far worse than death.