Chapter 4 The Billionaire's Fate

Darkness swallowed everything.

Not the soft, flickering kind of dark that comes from a blown fuse or a storm.

This darkness was total. Heavy. Engineered.

Aria couldn't see her own hands. Couldn't see Damian. Couldn't see the glittering skyline that had stretched across the windows seconds earlier.

Her breathing hitched. "Damian?"

A hand brushed her waist, firm, grounding.

"I'm here," Damian murmured, voice low and edged with warning. "Stay down."

She dropped to her knees, heart pounding so loudly it felt like it echoed through the penthouse. Damian shifted beside her, his movements impossibly controlled for a man seconds away from being shot.

The voice in the dark came again, closer this time.

A voice dripping with satisfaction.

"I told you she couldn't run forever."

Aria's blood froze.

No.

Not this voice.

Anyone but him.

Something in her chest caved in, cowering beneath memories she buried years ago-the cold floors, the locked door, the threats whispered in the dark. She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth.

Damian leaned in, his lips brushing near her ear.

"Who is that?" he whispered.

Her throat tightened so painfully she couldn't speak.

Another step approached. Slow. Deliberate. As if the darkness belonged to him.

"Come now, Aria," the voice crooned. "Won't you welcome me?"

Damian stiffened beside her. Aria felt the shift, the precise moment comprehension collided with fury inside him.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her silently along the floor. Aria felt his body curve around hers, his breath steady against her cheek. The gun in his other hand was a cold presence in the air.

"Don't talk," he mouthed.

But he didn't need to say it.

She couldn't.

Because she knew the voice.

She had prayed to forget it.

But monsters leave shadows inside their victims.

A soft click echoed.

A flashlight beam snapped on from somewhere inside the penthouse.

But the intruder didn't shine it around.

He simply held it low, illuminating only his boots as he walked.

Damian tensed.

These were no ordinary boots, they were military issues. Foreign. Custom.

Aria's stomach twisted.

No, no, no

The beam turned slightly, giving a glimpse of the man's legs... the expensive charcoal slacks... the long dark coat she remembered too well.

Damian's whisper barely carried in the air.

"Aria. Who is he?"

She shook her head violently.

Not yet.

Not like this.

Not while she was shaking, bleeding, and seconds from breaking apart.

The man continued strolling as though he owned the place.

"You always were good at escaping," the intruder mused. "But you were better at hiding. I have to give you credit, you vanished so completely I almost admired it."

Damian's grip tightened on her hand.

Aria swallowed a sob that threatened to claw its way out.

The intruder's footsteps stopped.

Then,

A soft tap on the marble floor.

A heel twisting.

Pivoting.

As if he were facing exactly where Aria hid in the shadows.

"Aria, my dear," he said, voice deepening into something possessive and vile. "Do you want to tell him the truth, or should I?"

Damian's muscles coiled.

Aria felt his body preparing, calculating the shot, the distance, the angles.

But she knew better.

"You can't fight him in the dark," she whispered into Damian's shoulder, barely audible.

Damian didn't answer.

Not because he disagreed.

But because he already knew.

He moved his hand, drawing her closer until her chest pressed against his. She felt his heartbeat, steady, strong, terrifyingly calm. He was shielding her completely, taking the position of a man who expected bullets to come from multiple directions.

"Who is he?" Damian whispered again.

This time, she forced out the smallest sound.

"My past."

Damian's breath stilled.

And the intruder chuckled.

"Oh, she remembers me. Good. I was worried freedom had softened her too much."

Something snapped inside Aria.

No.

She would not break again.

Not in front of him.

Not in front of Damian.

She stiffened, wiping her tears roughly with her good hand. Damian noticed, she felt the way his body tightened protectively but neither of them moved.

Not yet.

Because the intruder was still speaking.

"Damian Blackwell," he called into the dark, tone shifting into something mocking and sharp. "The Ghost Hunter himself. I must say... you took your time finding my runaway."

Damian's breath froze in his chest.

Aria felt it.

The intruder laughed softly. "Don't look so shocked. You think I wouldn't know who she ran to? Who could hide her well enough? But you didn't hide her, did you?"

Damian's jaw clenched.

The intruder's tone dropped into a purr.

"You brought her out. Exposed her. How careless of you."

Damian's fingers flexed around Aria's.

Not in fear.

In fury.

A deep, controlled fury that vibrated through his muscles.

He finally stood, pulling Aria up with him, keeping her behind his broad frame. "Show yourself," Damian said, voice lethal. "Now."

Another soft click.

The flashlight lifted.

Rising slowly... deliberately...

Revealing the man's face.

Aria's legs nearly collapsed.

High cheekbones. Cold black eyes. A cruel, calculating smile.

A scar she remembered watching him earn, across his jawline, from a fight he'd forced her to witness.

Damian's breath hissed between his teeth.

"You."

The intruder smiled wider. "Me."

Damian lowered his gun half an inch, not in surrender, but in sheer shock.

"What the hell are you doing here, Marcus?"

Aria's lungs stopped.

Marcus.

His name still tasted like poison.

Damian knew him.

Not vaguely.

Not in passing.

This wasn't just Aria's past.

This was Damian's world colliding with hers.

Marcus tilted his head. "You think she just ran from me? Aria is mine, Damian. And you've taken something that doesn't belong to you."

Damian stepped forward, placing his body fully between Marcus and Aria. "She doesn't belong to anyone."

Marcus's smile sharpened. "She belongs to me more than she belongs to you. After all, I owned her first."

Damian's entire body went rigid.

Aria grabbed his arm. "Damian, don't"

But he was already moving.

One second, Damian stood still.

The next

He lunged.

The flashlight clattered to the ground as Damian slammed Marcus against the wall, forearm crushing into his throat, his gun pressed hard against Marcus's ribcage.

Marcus only laughed, the sound cracked and wild. "Still the same, Damian. Always reactive. Always emotional when it comes to lost things."

Damian shoved harder. "She's not a thing."

"Isn't she?" Marcus whispered. "Then why did you hunt her?"

Damian's grip faltered.

Just slightly.

But Marcus saw it.

Aria did too.

Damian had hunted her?

Why?

When?

How much did he know?

"Ah," Marcus purred. "He didn't tell you. How surprising."

Aria whispered, "Damian... What is he talking about?"

Damian didn't look at her.

He didn't answer.

Not because he didn't want to.

But because Marcus spoke over him, voice dripped with poison.

"Why don't you tell her, Damian? Tell her why you were looking for her. Tell her who paid you to find her."

Aria's heart cracked open.

"What?"

Damian released Marcus so fast the other man stumbled, but Damian didn't lower the gun.

He simply froze.

Aria's voice trembled. "Damian... is he lying?"

Damian's jaw clenched so tight she heard the grind of his teeth. "Aria, I wasn't working for him."

"I know," Marcus said casually. "Because she wasn't mine yet when he started looking."

Aria's head spun.

She grabbed the back of the couch to steady herself. "Damian, please. Just tell me the truth."

He turned toward her slowly.

Pain.

Conflict.

A shadow she hadn't seen in him before.

"Aria..." His voice was raw. "I didn't know who you were. I didn't know what he wanted you for."

"Damian," she whispered, "who hired you?"

Silence.

Marcus's grin stretched.

Damian looked at Aria.

And Aria looked back, her heart breaking, her vision swimming, the wound in her shoulder throbbing with every breath.

Finally, Damian exhaled a slow, tortured breath.

"Your father."

Aria's world cracked.

She staggered backward.

"No," she breathed. "No he's dead. He died..."

"He lied," Marcus said cheerfully. "Quite brilliantly, actually."

Damian reached for her. "Aria, listen"

"Get away from me." Her voice shattered.

"Aria"

"Stay back!"

Marcus's low voice cut through the darkness.

"Sweetheart... you didn't run from me."

His smile widened.

"You ran from your own family."

Aria stumbled, shaking, breath breaking apart, because she knew.

She knew he wasn't lying.

Her father was alive.

Her father was searching.

Her father had paid Damian to find her.

Damian took another step toward her. "Aria, I swear, I didn't know. I stopped the moment I realized"

But Aria only saw the truth:

Damian was never meant to find her.

But he had. Because her father had sent him.

Terror engulfed her.

Betrayal. Loss.

And under all of it,

A deeper fear.

If her father wanted her back...

If Marcus was here...

Then she wasn't running from a man.

She was running from a legacy.

Her knees buckled.

Damian lunged to catch her.

But the world exploded with blinding white light as the penthouse generators roared back on.

And in the sudden brightness,

Marcus was gone.

Vanished.

Leaving only a message carved into the wall in something dark and glistening.

"TIME'S UP."