Chapter 4

Ashton Donaldson POV:

Camden' s eyes, usually guarded, were now ablaze with a cold, terrifying fury. He looked like a predator that had just spotted its prey escaping. The security guard, though still gripping my arm, seemed to wilt under his gaze.

"Let her go," Camden commanded, his voice low, a dangerous rumble that vibrated through the pavement. The guard immediately released me, stepping back as if burned.

I snatched my bag from the ground, clutching it against my chest like a shield. My heart hammered, but I refused to show fear. "What do you want?" I spat, my voice laced with venom. "Did Brianne finally recover enough for you to come finish the job?"

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek. He ignored my taunt. "Where are you going, Ashton?" His voice was deceptively calm, but the ice in his eyes threatened to shatter.

"That's none of your business," I shot back, trying to push past him towards the waiting taxi. But he moved faster, blocking my path, a solid wall of controlled power.

"It is my business," he said, his hand reaching out, his fingers closing around my wrist. His grip was firm, not violent, but utterly unyielding. "You're my wife."

"Not for long," I retorted, trying to pull away. "I've filed for divorce. My father's already agreed."

His grip tightened, his eyes flashing. "Your father has no say in this." He practically dragged me towards his SUV, his movements swift and decisive.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" I screamed, struggling against him. My nails raked against his forearm, but he didn't even flinch. He simply ignored my protests, pulling me with a strength that felt impossible to fight.

He shoved me into the backseat, then slid in beside me, pinning me against the door. The security guard jumped into the driver's seat, and the SUV sped off, leaving the taxi driver staring in bewildered confusion.

"What do you think you're doing?" I seethed, my body pressed against the cold leather, my face mere inches from his. My chest heaved with rage and indignation.

"Taking you home," he said, his breath ghosting my ear. His scent, a mix of expensive cologne and something uniquely his, suddenly felt suffocating.

"Home? That gilded cage? That prison you built for me?" I scoffed. "I' m not going back there. Not with you. Not ever."

He didn't respond, just reached out and gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. His eyes were dark, intense, and in their depths, I saw a raw hunger that sent a shiver of a different kind down my spine. And then, without warning, his mouth crashed down on mine.

It wasn't a kiss of tenderness or affection. It was a kiss of possession, of anger, of desperate control. His lips were hard, demanding, plundering mine with a brutal force that stole my breath. I thrashed against him, my hands pushing against his chest, but he was immovable. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me tighter against his unyielding body, deepening the kiss until my head swam.

When he finally broke away, I gasped for air, my lips bruised, my body trembling with a mixture of fury and something I refused to name. "You animal!" I choked out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, tears stinging my eyes. "How dare you?"

His eyes were still burning, his breathing ragged. "I dare, Ashton. You are mine. And you don't get to walk away." His thumb brushed my swollen lip, a possessive gesture that made my skin crawl. "I warned you. I told you I'd tolerate your antics. But defiance? Running away? That's not an option."

"Defiance is my only option when I'm married to a liar!" I screamed, the words tearing from my throat. "You swore to me, Camden! You swore there was no one! And all this time, you were using me! For her! For Brianne!"

His face hardened then, a familiar mask of impenetrable control falling back into place. "Brianne's health is delicate. She needed help. Your father had the means. It was a necessary arrangement."

"A necessary arrangement?" I laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "So I'm just a means to an end? A glorified drug dispenser? Is that all I am to you?" My voice cracked, betraying the raw wound his words had reopened.

He didn't answer directly. Instead, he pulled my hands, pinning them above my head against the back of the seat. He leaned in again, his breath hot against my cheek. "You wanted passion, Ashton? You wanted fire? You wanted me to see you?" His voice was a low growl, laced with something dark and dangerous. "I see you. Every single defiant spark. Every desperate attempt to escape. And it only makes me want to keep you closer."

He kissed me again, slower this time, but no less possessive. It was a terrifying dance of power and desperation, a grim echo of our forced union. My body stiffened, resisting, even as a traitorous part of me felt a flicker of something, a desperate need for some kind of connection, however twisted.

"No," I choked out, turning my head, forcing the words past my bruised lips. "I won't let you. I won't be your pawn. I'll fight you every step of the way."

He pulled back, his eyes still burning, but a hint of something else flickered there-pain? Regret? I couldn't tell. "You're tired, Ashton," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, belying the tight control in his grip. "You're hurt. Let's just go home. We'll talk later." He didn't release my hands.

"Hurt?" I gasped, a bitter laugh escaping me. "You think this is 'hurt'? You have no idea, Camden. You have no idea what it's like to be a child, watching your mother being dragged away by men in suits, while your father watches, impassive, calculating the cost of her legal fees!" The memory, raw and vivid, tore through me. My mother, my beautiful, artistic, fragile mother, institutionalized, because she wouldn't conform to my father's world. He hadn't fought for her. He had calculated. Just as he had calculated my marriage.

Camden's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine shock in their depths. His grip on my wrists loosened slightly. He knew nothing of my past, of the wounds that ran deeper than any scraped knuckle.

"Your mother?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

"Yes, my mother!" I cried, the dam finally breaking. "The woman who loved art more than money, who loved me more than society. My father locked her away when she became too inconvenient. Too 'fragile.' Too 'wild.' Just like he tried to do with me!"

He stared at me, his face a canvas of conflicting emotions. But then, it shifted. The shock faded, replaced by a hardened resolve. He tightened his grip again. "Ashton, you don't understand. I won't let that happen to you. You won't end up like her." His voice was firm, resolute. "You need stability. You need protection. You need me."

"I need freedom!" I screamed, the words a primal roar. "I need to be me! Not your wife, not your drug delivery system, not your project! And I will never, ever, subject a child to a life like this. Not a child of yours, not a child of ours."

His eyes darkened, his face a mask of cold fury. "You will give me an heir, Ashton. You will bear my children. And they will have a better life than any of us did." His words were a steely command, an absolute decree.

"And you think I would ever bring a child into this twisted, manipulative nightmare?" I scoffed, my voice dripping with disdain. "You think I would create another hostage, another pawn for men like you and my father to play with? You're delusional."

He looked at me then, his gaze piercing, something akin to desperation in his eyes, but it was quickly masked. "You will change your mind. I'll make you change your mind."

Suddenly, the car swerved violently. The driver cursed under his breath. We were almost at the penthouse. What now? As we pulled into the underground garage, a figure darted out from behind a pillar, directly into our path.

"Camden! No!" A woman's voice, high-pitched and frantic, cut through the tense silence of the car.

Brianne.

She was standing there, pale and disheveled, her arm still bandaged, her eyes wide with terror. She had somehow found her way here. She saw us, saw Camden' s hand still on my arm, saw the raw intensity between us.

Her eyes widened in horror. "Camden? What are you doing with her?" Her voice was a broken sob.

Camden's head snapped towards her, his face draining of all color. His grip on my arm loosened completely. He shoved the door open, practically leaping out of the car. "Brianne! What are you doing here? You shouldn't be out!" His voice was filled with a desperate concern that was never for me. Never.

She looked from him to me, then back to him, her face crumpling. "I... I thought... I thought you were with her." She pointed a trembling finger at me, tears streaming down her face. "You promised me, Camden! You promised you'd be careful!"

Camden rushed to her, his hand reaching out to steady her. He looked utterly distraught, torn between the two of us, but his loyalty was clear. "I was just bringing Ashton home," he murmured, trying to calm her. "It's okay. You're safe."

"No! She's not safe!" she shrieked, collapsing into his arms. "I saw her! She was yelling at you! She's cruel, Camden! She doesn't care about you!"

He held her tightly, his eyes still fixed on me, but they were no longer furious. They were filled with a strange mixture of regret and... pity. "Take Ashton inside. Make sure she's settled. I'll be there shortly," he commanded his security guard, his voice flat, devoid of any warmth. Then, he turned his full attention back to Brianne, leading her slowly, carefully away, his arm wrapped around her fragile shoulders, murmuring soothing words.

I watched them go, a cold, empty ache spreading through my chest. He left me. Again. He chose her. Again. The wild child, the one he was supposed to tame, was left standing alone, a forgotten object in the opulent garage. The illusion wasn' t just shattered; it was pulverised. And this time, I knew there was no going back.