Chapter 4 I Won't Let Her Go Anymore

Bella was taken to another room. One that had been "prepared" just for her, they said.

She paused at the threshold.

A black door. Velvet walls. Luxurious furniture.

It all looked rich. Lavish. But it felt like a trap.

In the center of the room stood a massive bed-majestic like a throne, but really... it was just a prison, beautifully dressed.

She walked in like someone heading to her own funeral. Her steps were slow. Heavy. Her cheeks still wet with tears.

She sat on the couch near the bed, pulled her legs to her chest, and curled into herself.

Like a child lost in a storm.

She buried her face between her knees.

Silence swallowed the room. Only the sound of her shaky breath broke through.

Everything in her was crying.

Her body.

Her heart.

Her innocence.

At that same moment, Dante sat motionless in his chair.

Like a statue carved in stone.

His men moved around him, carrying out orders, but he... wasn't really there.

Even when the knock came-when they told him the buyer had arrived-he didn't react.

Then came Alexander.

A man in his fifties, with skin smooth like a snake.

His smile was wide, but empty. Cold desire wrapped in fake charm.

"Hello, my dear friends," he said, in a voice that crawled under the skin.

"I missed you both."

Paul, Dante's assistant, smirked.

"You missed us? Or the girls?"

Alexander laughed-a quick, dry sound. Then he winked.

"You know me well. Business is booming, thanks to you."

But Dante didn't laugh. Didn't smile. Didn't blink.

Paul turned to look at him-expression blank, unreadable.

At last, Dante spoke. His voice was like steel dipped in ice.

"I brought you ten girls. Three are virgins. But one is underage.

She's not for sale.

She stays with me."

Alexander leaned in, whispering with twisted delight:

"Underage? Oh... I love breaking the wild ones."

Everything changed.

Dante's jaw clenched. His eyes darkened.

His fist tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Then-his voice dropped. Low. Dangerous.

"One more word... and I'll bury you alive."

And in a flash-he slammed his fist on the desk.

The whole room shook with his fury.

Alexander took a step back.

His grin vanished-replaced by tension.

Paul stepped in, voice firm but quiet:

"Take the girls. Pay. And shut your mouth."

Alexander nodded to his men. Handed over the money.

Left without another word.

Once the room was empty, Dante sat in silence again.

But his mind...

it was stuck.

Spinning in a single orbit:

Bella.

A small girl.

Afraid.

Broken.

But... different.

He had never met a girl like her before.

It wasn't lust.

It wasn't pity.

It was... possession.

He stared into the void and whispered to himself:

"I won't let her go anymore."

Paul raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile on his lips.

"Since when do you lose your temper over a kidnapped girl?"

Dante replied, calm as stone:

"Since today.

That girl... belongs to me."

Paul gave a wicked grin.

"Looks like someone's falling."

Dante didn't answer.

He just got up. Walked toward the upper floor.

Toward the room where Bella was waiting.

Waiting...

Without knowing

She had just fallen into the hands of a man

Who had no mercy.

And never returned what he claimed as his own.

But they weren't alone.

Nancy stood behind the glass wall just beyond the office-

Invisible, as always.

No one noticed her.

Her eyes tracked Dante from afar.

A storm of jealousy and disbelief rising inside her.

When she heard him say:

"That girl belongs to me."

Something inside her snapped.

She gripped the wall, like the words had knocked the air from her lungs.

That sentence... wasn't just a confession.

It was a blade.

A wound.

Dante-the man she gave her heart to-

didn't see her.

Didn't look at her.

And yet he spoke about another girl.

A stranger.

A child.

An intruder.

Nancy bit her lip until blood came.

Her eyes burned.

"Bella,"

She said the name like venom.

"You'll regret this.

I'll make you beg for death before he ever lets you near his heart."

She pulled out her phone.

Typed a message to one of the guards on the upper floor.

"The new girl... teach her manners."

Then she turned away.

And walked off like a shadow torn from its body.

Her footsteps whispered of the storm she was about to bring.

*******************

Elsewhere...

At the police station, Edward Watson sat across from the officer.

His face was frozen.

But behind the stillness... was a father on the edge of collapse.

Next to him sat Rose's father-his daughter's best friend's dad.

They didn't speak.

They didn't have to.

Grief connected them in silence.

The officer looked up, voice cold and official:

"How can I help you, sir?"

Edward didn't answer right away.

He exhaled. Looked at the papers in front of him.

Then spoke, barely above a whisper.

Like the words hurt just to say:

"My daughter... Bella. She's missing.

I tried calling her. Her phone is off."

The officer wrote it down.

His tone stayed flat.

"When did you last see her?"

"Two... maybe three hours ago."

"Her age?"

"Sixteen."

His voice cracked on the number.

Like it stabbed his throat.

The officer looked up again.

"We're sorry, sir.

But we can't file a missing person report until 24 hours have passed.

She might be with a friend, or-"

Edward interrupted.

His voice broke through with raw fury:

"In twenty-four hours, she could be dead!"

The officer didn't flinch.

"Those are the rules, sir.

Come back tomorrow."

-------

In a quiet corner of the police station-

Where old files gathered dust on rusted shelves,

Where silence felt like a secret deal with the devil-

A man sat alone behind a glass desk.

He flipped through folders with no names.

Only codes.

Faded photos of missing girls... gone without a trace.

This man was Ethan Morell.

Thirty-five.

Eyes like steel. Face like stone.

Crimes didn't shake him.

They called to him.

He turned to his assistant and asked, voice low but sharp:

"A missing teen... near zone six?

No report?"

The assistant nodded.

"No. Like you guessed. They refused it. Said to wait 24 hours."

Ethan gave a cold, thin smile.

Part bitterness. Part fire.

"The old system still rules.

And the monsters roam free."

The phone buzzed.

He answered, quiet.

"Yes?"

His colleague replied:

"The missing girl... her name is Bella Watson."

Ethan didn't respond.

He opened a drawer. Pulled out an old photo.

A little girl with an angel's face.

From a past case.

Next to it, a worn ID tag.

Bella Edward Watson.

He stared at the photo.

Long and hard.

Then whispered-

Not a thought.

A promise.

"Dante Romano...

You think the law can't see you?

No.

It watches you through my eyes."

He stood up.

Put on his black coat.

Slipped his silver badge into his pocket.

Because his authority didn't need a name.

"I won't knock on your door, Dante.

I'll break it down."

---

Meanwhile, Edward Watson left the police station.

The night was suffocating.

He said goodbye to Rose's father with a tired nod,

Then drove-aimless, desperate-

Until he reached home.

His wife was waiting at the door.

Eyes wide, searching his face for hope.

But when he said Bella's name...

She collapsed.

Dropped to the floor.

Screamed like her soul had been torn away.

Beat her chest, her face-crying her daughter's name over and over-

As if it could summon her back from the dark.

Edward held her.

Tried to calm her.

But he was breaking too.

They ended up at the hospital.

Doctors had no choice but to sedate her.

He sat beside her bed.

His head in his hands.

And inside, a single question burned, over and over: "Where are you, Bella?"

He called everyone he knew.

Checked her call history.

Asked all her friends.

They all said the same thing: "We don't know anything."

The night dragged on.

And in his eyes lived a pain no time could erase.

He wasn't just a father anymore.

He was a man...

Searching for the other half of his soul.