Chapter Six #3
For a heartbeat, I just stare at him, wide-eyed, my pulse thundering in my ears. His presence is a jolt—hope, fear, and longing all tangled together. “Ayla, let’s go,” he says, his voice urgent and low. He reaches for my hand, eyes searching mine, just waiting for me to move.
For a split second, I imagine it—just running, letting him take me away from all of this. But reality slams back into place. The contract. Derek. The bruises no one sees. The voice in my head that sounds like my father, reminding me I don’t get to be saved.
I pull my hand back, voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t.”
Alexander
"Ayla, come on. We don't have much time before he figures out nothing's wrong and comes back," I urge, my voice low and urgent, desperate to get her out of here.
But she backs away, shaking her head, real fear in her eyes. "Alex, you don't understand. I can't leave. It's not just Derek—it's everything. If he finds you here, he'll lose it. Please, you have to go. You're just putting yourself in danger."
"Ayla, I don't care about the danger."
"You should! You don't know what it's like.
Last time I tried to leave, he locked me in the basement for two days.
I ran to the police once he let me out, Alex.
I told them what he did, what he does. But his father owns half the city, and the cops just handed me right back to him.
They called it a "domestic misunderstanding. " There's no way out."
I take a step closer, but she lifts her hand, a silent plea for me to stop. "The cameras—he could see you."
"The feeds are frozen," I say, keeping my voice steady for her sake, but inside I'm furious.
She stares at me, torn between hope and terror, her voice barely a whisper. "Alex, what are you talking about? Even if you could get me out, they'd find me. Derek would find me. You don't know what he's capable of."
"Yes, I do. And I don’t give a fuck."
She just shakes her head, and the ache in my chest grows sharper.
"I can't go with you," she says, her voice small but final. "I'm sorry."
The words hit harder than any punch. I pull out my phone and call Dean.
"Hey, you gotta do something to keep Derek away from here. Ayla and I need to talk." Dean’s answer is muffled, but he’s already moving.
I hang up and turn back to Ayla. My chest aches just seeing her like this, eyes wide and pleading, shoulders hunched like she’s bracing for another blow.
I want to take her hand and run, to tear her away from this place and never look back.
"Ayla, what the fuck is going on? And don’t tell me you’re happy here. I know I left. I know you told me not to come back. But what the hell?"
She shakes her head, lips pressed tight, and for a second her whole body trembles. "Alex, drop it. Please," she whispers. "You can’t fix this. If Derek finds you here, I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do. Just go. I’m asking you, please—leave while you still can."
I step closer, but she backs away, always out of reach. The desperation in her voice cuts deeper than any wound. "Let it go, Alex. You have to. If you care about me, just… walk away."
“Absolutely fucking not. I’m not going anywhere.”
She bristles, her anger flaring. “You left. You disappeared. I waited for you to text or call—nothing. Now you wanna be my hero? It’s too late. I told you not to come back.”
I step closer, refusing to let her push me out. “Ayla, why can’t you just leave?”
Her eyes fill with desperate anger, but there’s something else, too—shame.
"Because I signed a contract," she spits out, the words thick with regret. "It’s not just love—it’s legal. I thought he loved me; I didn't read it. I didn’t know what I was signing. There are consequences, Alex. If I run, he’ll ruin me. He’ll ruin you."
I square my shoulders, voice turning cold. "I need to see that contract now, Ayla." There’s no room in my tone for argument.
She heads down the hall, and I follow close behind, adrenaline buzzing in my veins. She glances back at me, her voice a whisper. "You really froze the feeds?"
"Yes, I did, darling."
She moves fast, digging through Derek’s desk drawer and pulling out a stack of papers.
When she hands me the contract, her hands are shaking.
I flip through the pages—tiny print, legal jargon everywhere.
Even just skimming, ugly words jump out: "heir," "requirements," "consequences. " My jaw clenches.
I barely have time to process when my phone rings. “Yeah, Dean?”
His voice is tight. “You gotta go, man. He’s on his way back.”
Shit. My pulse spikes. If Derek catches me here, Ayla is in even more danger. I shove the contract into my jacket, turning to her.
I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “Ayla, my darling—I’m going to get you out of here. Even if I have to kill him myself.”
She looks back at me, eyes tired and guarded, like she’s heard it all before and doesn’t believe a word.
Still, I press my lips to her forehead, memorizing the feel of her skin, the shape of her sadness.
Then I’m out the door, the contract burning against my chest, the promise heavy in my mouth as I get on my bike and disappear.