CHAPTER 14 – Emilia
I wake up before my mind catches up to where I am.
For a second, all I feel is warmth. Rafe is here. He has not gone away!
This is different. As if he was trying to make up for leaving just immediately after we had sex the last time.
I smile a little.
The remnants of last night linger on my skin, between my thighs, in the dull ache in my muscles.
His body is half-shadowed in the dim light, the defined ridges of his chest rising and falling evenly.
His arms are still loose around my waist, his touch familiar, heavy, grounding.
Holding me in a way that makes my stomach twist with something dangerous.
Something I shouldn’t feel.
I want to believe the lie.
That I’m safe here.
That last night wasn’t a mistake.
That he won’t leave again.
And then—
I remember.
I am still a prisoner.
Diego still owns me.
And Rafe is the only reason I’m not dead.
But for how long?
I shift slightly, and his grip tightens.
"Stay," he mutters, his voice thick with sleep.
I freeze.
Because for a moment, he sounds like a man who cares.
For a second, my resolve wavers.
Because it’s so damn easy to believe the lie.
That the way he holds me—like I’m something fragile, something worth protecting—means something.
That last night wasn’t just a mistake.
That he isn’t the same man who stood beside Diego, watching me like I was nothing.
But then I remember.
I remember the cold emptiness in his eyes.
I remember how he let Diego talk about me like I was a possession, a fucking prize.
My stomach twists violently.
Rafe’s grip tightens around my waist, like he knows.
Like he can feel me pulling away.
"Stay," he mutters, voice thick with sleep.
I swallow hard, my throat burning.
He doesn’t get to do this.
He doesn’t get to have me at night and leave me in the morning.
"You need to go," I whisper, my voice barely steady.
He sighs, his thumb skimming absently over my hip.
"I know."
But he doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
Because neither of us are ready to face what comes next.
Rafe finally pushes himself up, running a hand over his face.
He adjusts his clothes, checking the time.
"The guard will be back soon," he murmurs.
I don’t respond. I have nothing to say.
I wish he could stay, I know he cannot.
"Emilia," his voice is quieter now, measured.
I force myself to look at him.
"I will get you out," he says, his gaze burning into mine.
And for a split second, I want to believe him.
I hope I can, because he is the only hope I have if I am going to ever get out..
I inhale sharply, wrapping my arms around myself.
"You should go," I whisper.
His lips press into a firm line.
He nods. Turns toward the door.
But before he leaves, he pauses, glancing at me over his shoulder.
"Keep your anger in check," he warns. "Don’t give him a reason to make things worse."
And then—
He’s gone.
I sit in the silence, wrapping my arms around my legs, staring at the door like I can still feel his presence.
All of a sudden, I feel alone again.
I wish he were here.
Last night is still fresh in my head.
I don’t move.
I don’t think.
Because if I do, I’ll start to feel.
And I can’t afford that.
My head tips back against the wall.
I exhale slowly.
This is his fault.
Rafe is the reason I’m here.
He left.
He walked away after I nursed him back to life.
After I let him crawl under my skin, into my veins.
My hands clench into fists.
I think about Sienna and Camila.
About Camila’s ridiculous dark romance fantasies.
About the way she used to joke about brooding, dangerous men who would steal you away, make you theirs.
I almost laugh.
Because this?
This isn’t a fantasy.
This is a fucking nightmare.
And I’m the one trapped in it.
A sharp knock on the door shatters my thoughts.
I lift my head just as the door creaks open.
One of Diego’s men stands in the doorway, arms crossed.
"You," he grunts. "Get up and get dressed."
I don’t move.
His eyes narrow.
"Diego wants to see you."
A chill snakes down my spine.
I don’t move right away.
Because I know what this means.
I know what Diego wants.
Power. Control.
He wants to remind me who owns me.
I square my shoulders, forcing my expression into something unreadable.
Because the second I show fear, I lose.
The guard smirks like he’s already won.
He’s going to be so fucking disappointed.
The walk to Diego’s office is slow, deliberate.
The guards keep pace beside me, flanking my sides like I might try to run.
As if there’s anywhere to go.
I lift my chin, refusing to shrink.
Because that’s what men like Diego want.
They want submission.
They want obedience.
And I won’t give him either.
The hallways stretch endlessly, each step echoing off the cold marble.
I keep my head high, my spine straight.
Because weakness is an invitation.
And I refuse to invite anything.
The guards keep pace beside me, their hands never straying far from their weapons.
As if I’m a threat.
The thought makes me want to laugh.
I’m barefoot. In borrowed clothes. A prisoner.
But they still look at me like I’m a storm waiting to break.
Good.
Let them.
The door swings open.
And there he is.
Diego lounges in his oversized leather chair, his legs crossed, fingers lazily rolling a cigar between them.
His smile is sharp. Amused. Dangerous.
"Ah, look who’s awake."
I don’t respond.
Not yet.
Because I know men like Diego.
And men like Diego?
They like it when you break first.
I keep my face neutral. Blank.
He gestures to the chair across from him.
"Sit."
I do.
Because I don’t have a choice.
And that’s when I see him.
Rafe.
Standing off to the side, arms crossed, his face unreadable.
He has changed his clothes. He is dressed like someone going for a casual meeting with friends.
There’s a cigar in his hand, but it isn’t lit.
He looks at me as I enter.
His eyes meet mine.
But there’s nothing there.
Something in me cracks.
But I don’t let it show.
Not the shock. Not the fury.
Not the ache.
Because Rafe is standing there like he belongs.
Like he isn’t the same man who held me last night, who whispered promises in the dark.
Like he doesn’t remember the way he ruined me.
That hurts me so bad, more than any of Diego’s threats ever could.
I want to shout, I want to jump at him. But I remember his words.
I have no choice but to trust. No choice but to hope.
This is my fate.
Diego tilts his head, studying me.
"You know, I expected a little more fight from you," he muses.
I hold his gaze. "Maybe I’m just saving my energy."
He chuckles.
"You’re a smart girl, Emilia," he muses. "Which means you know exactly how this ends for you."
I don’t respond.
I won’t give him the satisfaction.
His eyes flick over me, slow and assessing, like he’s already picking apart the pieces of me he wants to break.
"You should be grateful," he continues. "Most women in your position would be—"
He leans forward, his voice dropping to a purr.
"—begging."
A sharp, violent heat rises in my chest.
Not fear.
Fury.
Because he thinks he’s won.
But the only way Diego ever wins?
Is if I let him.
I know what he wants.
He wants fear. A crack in my armor. A reason to break me.
So I give him nothing.
Just a slow blink. A blank stare.
He sighs. "Shame. I was hoping for a little fun this morning."
His fingers tap the cigar against the table, and then he leans forward, his smile sharp as a knife.
"But don’t worry, sweetheart. We have time."
I force myself not to react.
Not to shiver. Not to break.
That is what my life is to this man? A game?
I am like an animal that he wants to tame and then keep?
And if I want to survive?
I have to play the game as well, and I have to play it right.
Diego shifts, turning his attention to Rafe.
"What do you think?" he asks. "Is she worth keeping?"
My stomach drops.
But I don’t look at Rafe.
I can’t.
I don’t know what he’s going to say.
If he’ll keep playing his part.
If he’ll say something that will seal my fate.
The silence stretches.
And then—
Rafe shrugs. "She’s not my problem."
A dagger to my ribs.
And this time, I do flinch.
Not outwardly.
Not in a way Diego will notice.
But inside?
Inside, something shatters.
I am not sure if he means that, or he is just trying to throw Diego off.
Because if this is just an act—if Rafe is lying—
He’s too fucking good at it.
Diego laughs, shaking his head.
"Cold as ever," he mutters. "That’s why I like you, Rafael."
I keep my face carefully blank.
Diego waves a hand.
"Fine. Take her back. I’ll deal with her later." He dismisses me with a lazy wave, like I’m nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Like I’m already his.
And maybe that should terrify me.
But all it does?
Is make me boil with rage.
The guard steps forward—but Rafe beats him to it.
Grips my wrist, pulling me up.
For a second, the air tightens.
Diego watches us.
A beat too long.
Thenhe smirks.
"Try not to have too much fun, hermano."
And just like that, I realize something.
I might not have to act broken.
Because Diego already thinks he’s won.
The second we’re alone, Rafe yanks me into a corner, gripping my chin, forcing my gaze to his.
"Don’t ever fucking look at him like that again," he growls.
I yank free, furious. "Like what?"
"Like you’re planning how to slit his throat."
I stiffen.
Because I was.
Rafe exhales sharply, jaw clenching.
"Diego’s smart, Emilia. But he’s cocky. Let him think you’re already his."
I glare at him.
"You want me to act broken?"
"No," he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. "I want you to act smart."
The air between us is thick. Suffocating.
Thensofter, lower—
"We’re almost there," he murmurs. "I need you to keep trusting me."
My chest tightens.
Because I don’t know if I can.
But I don’t have another choice.
So I nod.