Chapter 84

FREYA

Bianca—as I learned her name was—had returned two hours ago. Her demeanor was calm, almost too calm for the situation. She assured me she’d done her part and that I’d soon be free to go home. But “home” felt like a distant dream, a fragile whisper in the storm of my thoughts. Hope was dangerous; life had made that abundantly clear. And yet, against my better judgment, a sliver of it wormed its way into my chest.

I hugged my knees tighter, sitting against the cold, damp wall, trying not to spiral. Bianca sat beside me, her eyes fixed on the door, her jaw set in a way that betrayed her inner turmoil. She said nothing further, but the tension radiating from her was palpable.

In my mind, I painted an alternative reality, a balm to soothe the gnawing fear. Last night could have been perfect. A small, neatly wrapped box, non-alcoholic champagne, and champagne glasses would have found their way to Aiden’s hands. I would have seen that look on his face as he realized what the package contained. The happiness on his features; we would have laughed, talked about our future, our life together.

But now! Now, I wasn’t even sure if I would leave this place alive, much less find Aiden again. The thought of him, of us, was like salt on an open wound. And yet, the baby inside me was a reminder of why I couldn’t give up. But if there was one thing I was absolutely certain of, it was that I would die before letting myself be broken into submission.

Faint murmurings cut through my thoughts, sharp and ominous. I stiffened, my heart hammering. Bianca straightened, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the door.

“This way, boss,” a deep voice said, muffled but drawing closer.

The door creaked open, the sound cutting through the still air like a knife. I gasped as the man entered; his presence commanded the room. He was slightly taller than six feet, and his entire build spoke of strength and power. His dark suit fit him perfectly, suggesting wealth and authority. But it was his eyes that truly struck me: cold, calculating, and sharp. They scanned the room, coming to rest on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

Bianca and I leapt to our feet. My pulse roared in my ears as Bianca said, “Mr. Sanchez.” Her voice was steady, revealing none of the tension crackling through the air.

So this was him: Roman Sanchez. The name alone carried weight, whispered in tones of reverence and fear. The leader of one of the world’s most dangerous mafia organizations stood mere feet from me.

His eyes dug into me, weighing, measuring. His brow creased slightly, and I thought I saw a flicker of something—a glimmer of recognition. But that had to be my imagination. How could he recognize me? We were strangers.

“What is your name?” he asked, his voice smooth but laced with menace.

My throat felt dry. “F-Freya… Freya Wilson,” I stammered.

His reaction was immediate—a sharp curse muttered under his breath. “Motherfucker.”

I flinched at the venom in his tone, confusion swirling in my mind. Why would my name provoke such a reaction?

“You’re Aiden Knight’s girlfriend,” he stated, his words landing like a punch to the gut.

“How do you know that?” I blurted out, my voice sharper than I intended.

“He’s looking for you,” Roman said simply, as though that answered everything.

That struck me like a freight train—the weight of his words. Aiden was searching for me. That single fact threw me off balance. I felt as though I might collapse, but some inner strength held me upright. Tears welled in my eyes, and my control gave way. A wail tore from my chest, raw and unchecked.

“Please… please let me go. I don’t want to be here. Please.” The words spilled out, trembling and frantic.

Roman’s face darkened further, his expression unreadable but undeniably dangerous. He took a step closer, his towering presence suffocating. I flinched as his eyes roamed over me, lingering on the bruises and cuts that marred my skin.

“Did Lucas do this?” His voice was low, but the deadly edge to it chilled me to the bone.

I hesitated before nodding.

7:02 AM

Chapter 84

His jaw clenched, the muscle twitching as he turned to the burly man standing behind him—a figure who had been silent until now.

“Grab him. Knight would want his head,” Roman ordered, his low, growling voice brooking no argument.

I stared at him, my mind a whirlwind. Was he serious? Was he going to punish Lucas for what happened to me?

Roman turned his gaze back to me.

“Let’s go,” he said, leaving no room for refusal.

“I won’t sleep with you,” I said, the words escaping before I could stop them. My voice quavered, but I made myself look up at him, even as fear twisted my stomach.

Something flickered in his eyes—annoyance, amusement, or perhaps both. “Good to know. Now come on.”

I froze, my feet rooted to the spot. The weight of my fear was almost paralyzing.

“Freya,” Roman’s voice was soft, almost gentle this time, yet no less forceful. “I’m not here to harm you. However, you have to go now.”

I glanced at Bianca; she mouthed, “Move.” Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to move, following him toward the door.

My mind raced as I trailed after him down a dimly lit corridor. Questions clamored for answers—Who was Roman to Aiden? How did he know about me? Most importantly, why was he helping me?

Every step felt like a gamble, as if I was entrusting my life to a man who could easily end it. But glancing at Roman’s broad back, I couldn’t help but cling to a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, he was my way out of this nightmare.