Chapter 19
The sound of footsteps in the corridor snapped her awake.
She sat up on the cot, heart pounding in her chest, throat tight with dread. The door rattled. Heavy locks turned.
Not again. Please not again. Jason Rodes stepped in first. Calm. Controlled. A predator in expensive shoes. Behind him were two men she hadn’t seen before—both large, blank-faced, and stone-silent.
Her body tensed immediately. They weren’t here to check on her. They were here to move her.
Jason’s eyes scanned the room like it offended him, then landed on her like she was something he was deciding whether or not to keep.
“Time to go,” he said simply, like she had a choice.
Sofia’s throat tightened. “Where?”
Jason raised an eyebrow, motioning to the men with a slight nod. “Somewhere a little more… secure. You’ve become a problem, Sofia. And I’m done playing nice.”
The moment they stepped toward her, she scrambled off the cot, backing against the wall. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped, trying to keep her voice steady. “I can walk.” But they didn’t care.
One grabbed her by the arm—bruising grip, no gentleness. The other grabbed her bag—the one she hadn’t packed, but clearly, they had. Her heart climbed into her throat.
She didn’t fight. Not because she wasn’t scared—because she was terrified. But fighting would only give them an excuse to hurt her again. Jason stood in the doorway, watching. Amused.
“Tell me, Sofia,” he said as they dragged her into the hallway, “do you really think anyone’s coming for you?” She didn’t answer. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But inside, her heart screamed.
Yes. Goliath is coming, he had to be. He wouldn’t stop. Not until she was safe. Not until she was in his arms again.
The hallway was colder than she remembered. The estate was quiet, eerie, and every step away from her cell felt heavier—like she was being marched toward something final.
They pushed her out the back, into a waiting black SUV. The doors opened, and before she could react, she was shoved inside. Hard. She hit the seat wrong, her shoulder slamming against the door, a cry of pain escaping her lips.
“Watch it,” one of the men grunted.
Jason slid into the back with her, seated like a king between his wolves. He adjusted his cufflinks with slow, precise movements.
“You’ve been useful, Sofia,” he said coolly. “But I’m starting to think I should’ve just cut my losses when I had the chance.” She looked out the window, swallowing down the rising fear.
There was nothing but trees, fences, and darkness. No signs of life. No hope. Unless Goliath found her. Unless he was already on his way.
But what if he wasn’t? What if he never found this new place? What if Jason killed her before Goliath ever got the chance to hold her again? Tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them away.
She wouldn’t cry in front of him. She wouldn’t give him that. But the weight of the unknown—the terror clawing at her chest—was unbearable.
In the back of the SUV, Jason leaned in, his breath too close.
“You think he’s coming, don’t you?” he murmured. “This… biker boyfriend of yours.” Her jaw tightened as she didn’t answer.
“I’ve seen men like him,” Jason continued. “Brutish. Loud. Possessive.” His smile turned cold. “They burn hot, but they burn out. And when he realizes he can’t find you, when it’s been too long, he’ll move on. He’ll fuck someone else. You’ll be a memory.”
Sofia’s fingernails dug into her palms. She wanted to scream at him. You don’t know him, you don’t know Goliath. He was more than muscle and rage. He was hers. And if he was breathing, he was looking for her.
And if he found her—
God help anyone in his way.
The SUV bumped over a gravel road, the tires crunching beneath them as the trees outside grew thicker—denser. They were leaving the world behind, taking her somewhere even more isolated, and Sofia’s stomach twisted tighter with every turn.
Jason sat across from her, legs casually crossed, as if they weren’t dragging a woman to a hidden prison in the woods.
She watched him through her lashes, every inch of her screaming to memorize everything—the direction they were heading, the way the road curved, the smell of pine in the air. She didn't know if she’d get another chance to escape.
He caught her staring. Smiled like he already knew what she was thinking.
“Don’t bother,” he said, his voice smooth as venom. “You won’t find your way back out. No signal, no roads. Just trees and wolves.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Fitting, considering the company you’ve kept.”
Sofia stayed quiet, but her heart pounded so loud it was all she could hear. If he didn’t kill her, the silence might. But under that silence, under the fear, under the panic—there was fire. A flicker. A pulse. A tether that ran through her bones and beyond.
Goliath.
It was like a whisper against her skin, a warmth through the dark. She didn’t know how. Didn’t know why. But she could feel him. Somewhere far off, something inside her pulled taut, a thread straining in her chest. He was close, he had to be.
The SUV slowed as they reached a tall steel gate that stood like a scar in the middle of the woods. Cameras watched from the trees. Motion sensors blinked red against the brush. It wasn’t just a safehouse—it was a fortress. Jason leaned forward, his tone casual. “Welcome home.”
The gate opened, and the vehicle rolled through into a gravel courtyard surrounded by towering pines and reinforced fencing. A two-story cabin stood in the centre—beautiful, rustic... and built like a bunker.
They yanked her out of the SUV again. Sofia didn’t fight, but her legs felt like lead as they dragged her inside. There were no windows on the lower floor. Just stone, metal, and locks.
They brought her to a small, sterile room at the back. Steel walls, a cot, a bolted-down chair, and a camera in the corner.
She was shoved inside and then the door slammed shut behind her. The locks clicked. And just like that—she was alone again.
Sofia sat on the edge of the cot, her lip still split, her ribs bruised, her pride scraped raw. The adrenaline was wearing off, and fear began to bleed in around the edges. She dropped her head into her hands. What if he didn’t find her in time? What if Jason had planned this all too perfectly? What if the last face she ever saw was the one that smiled while hurting her?
“No,” she whispered it to the cold room. “No, he’s coming. I know he is.”
And if he didn’t? Then she’d find a way to fight, even if it meant dying on her feet. Because she wasn’t Jason’s. She never had been. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to die quietly, she wasn’t going to wait to die.
The moment the door clicked shut, Sofia's eyes scanned the room like a woman already planning her next move. The fear was there—tight in her throat, thick in her chest—but she shoved it down.
Fear kept people still. And still meant dead. She stood slowly, forcing her battered body to move, to cooperate. Her ribs screamed. Her lip throbbed. Her shoulder ached from where she’d been slammed against the SUV door—but she didn’t stop.
Every inch of this room was a trap. No windows. One camera. One door. She walked to the walls first running her fingers over the edges of the metal panels, checking for seams, weaknesses. There were none.
She moved to the camera next. It was high in the corner, fixed at an angle that caught the whole room. There was no blinking red light, no indicator, but she didn’t need one to know someone was watching, probably him.
Jason. That smug bastard with his suits and threats and fake charm. He was probably sitting somewhere sipping whiskey, watching her through the lens, waiting for her to cry or scream or crumble. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
She dragged the metal chair toward the corner, positioned it under the camera, and climbed up. Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she steadied herself with one hand on the wall.
She stared directly into the lens, and then…she flipped it off. Not subtle. Not delicate. Just her middle finger, raised with purpose and hate. “Watch this,” she muttered.
Then she tore the chair away and slammed it into the wall. The echo was deafening in the metal room, but she didn’t care. She slammed it again. And again.
Something cracked—not the wall, but one of the chair’s legs. It bent, weak now—but sharp. That would do.
She pulled the broken piece free and shoved it under the mattress. Just in case. If they came back in, she might not win. But she wasn’t going quietly.
Hours passed, she didn’t know how many. Her stomach growled. Her throat was dry. There was no water, no food—nothing except silence. Silence that clawed at her like fingers on a coffin lid.
She lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling, holding the jagged metal shard in one hand, tucked along her ribs.
Goliath. Where was he? Was he looking? Did he even know she was still alive? Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. She focused instead on that pull—that thread in her chest that hadn’t snapped yet. That bond.
Sometimes, she swore she could feel it. Like a faint whisper against her skin. A pulse in her veins that didn’t belong to her. Come for me, she thought. Please, Goliath… come for me.
They were soft. Deliberate. And they stopped right outside her door.
Sofia sprang to her feet, pressing back against the wall beside the frame, the metal shard in her hand. The locks turned, she gripped the weapon tighter. Her heart thundered.
This was it. Either they were moving her again— Or this was her one chance to fight. The final lock clunked, and the heavy steel door creaked open. Sofia didn’t breathe.
She pressed flat against the wall, the jagged chair leg clenched in her bruised hand, every muscle tight with adrenaline. A shadow moved into the room. One man. Tall. Broad. Armed.
Not Jason. Not one of the thugs from the SUV. This guy was younger, cleaner, trying to look professional in a jacket too tight across his shoulders, like he hadn’t expected guard duty to involve dragging bleeding women into cages.
He took two steps in and reached behind the door to pull a tray of food inside. His gun was slung lazily at his hip, a mistake he didn’t even know he was making.
Sofia didn’t hesitate, she moved, fast, silent. Every ounce of pain in her body drowned by the blinding need to survive. She swung the broken chair leg hard—jagged metal catching him across the back of the neck.
He dropped the tray with a curse, staggering forward as it clattered to the floor, soup and bread flying everywhere.
He whirled around, hand going for his weapon…Too late. Sofia slammed into him, driving the metal into his side with everything she had. He screamed as they both went down. The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she didn’t let go. She rolled, scrambled over him, reaching for the gun at his waist.
His fist caught her jaw hard, her head snapped to the side, the room spinning. She tasted blood again, but she didn’t stop as she bit him. Her teeth sank into his forearm as he reached for the gun. He howled in rage, and she used the moment to yank the weapon free.
She stumbled back, gun shaking in her hands, breathing hard. “Don’t move.” He froze, clutching his bleeding side. Her voice was shaking. Her aim wasn’t. “On your knees.” The man hesitated, then slowly sank down.
Her pulse was a drumbeat in her ears. Every inch of her was shaking…from pain, from fear, from the overwhelming realization that she had just fought a man with a fucking weapon and won.
But she didn’t have time to celebrate. She needed to get out. Now. She backed toward the door, keeping the gun on him, her knuckles white on the grip.
"If anyone else is outside," she said, voice low and deadly, "you better pray they don’t try to stop me."
She slipped out, kicking the door shut behind her. The hallway was empty. for now. She looked around desperately before she ran.
Sofia sprinted down the corridor, bare feet slapping against the cold concrete floor, the stolen gun clenched tight in her trembling hands. Her breath came in gasps, ribs screaming with each inhale, but she pushed through the pain. No time to feel it, no time to think, just move.
She turned the first corner and found another hallway, longer, dimly lit. Doors on either side. No windows. She kept running until a green exit sign glowed at the end like a promise.
She surged toward it, heart pounding like a war drum. Somewhere behind her, shouting echoed, distant but closing in. She didn’t look back. If she looked back, she’d slow down. If she slowed down, she’d die.
The emergency exit door was heavier than it looked, rusted at the hinges. She slammed her shoulder into it…once, twice…until it groaned and gave way. Cold air hit her like a slap. Trees. She was at the edge of the forest. The compound behind her was mostly hidden now, tucked behind hills and fencing.
Sofia stumbled into the woods, branches clawing at her arms and face, feet slipping on pine needles and rocks, she kept going. Just a little farther. Just a few more steps and maybe, maybe she’d be close enough for someone to find her. For him to find her.
She made it twenty feet. Thirty. Then—
"There! She's out!" The voice came from the treeline.
Sofia turned, lifting the gun, but her hands were shaking, breath ragged. A figure surged toward her—one of Jason’s men. Not the one she’d attacked. Bigger. Faster.
She pulled the trigger…once, twice…but the shots went wild. The man tackled her to the ground. The air whooshed out of her lungs as her back slammed into the earth. The gun flew from her hand. She kicked, screamed, fought…but he was too strong.
“Stupid little bitch,” he spat, pinning her wrists with one hand, grabbing her face with the other. She was going to die. Out here in the woods. So fucking close to freedom. So close to Goliath.
Tears welled in her eyes—not from fear, but fury. He was right there, somewhere. She could feel it, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.