Chapter 4 The Helper

Aloe's POV

The door opened before I could even raise my hand to knock.

He stood there, tall, broad, and was like a figure carved from shadows and light, like he belonged in a different world altogether.

And standing before me is no other person than Blake's Matthew. The man whose name was whispered like a curse at Wakes Savage's gatherings. The man Wakes had sworn to ruin.

"Mrs. Savage," he said smoothly, his voice low and certain, like this was the moment he'd been waiting years for.

My heart slammed against my ribs, each beat a warning. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

I don't understand what he meant by that but my instinct was telling me to turn and run and battle with the iron will that had kept me standing through every storm. But I couldn't go back, not after what I'd left behind.

Blake stepped aside, his movements slow and deliberate. "Come in. Before someone thinks you're stranded with nowhere to go."

The front door closed behind me with a weighty click, the sound final, almost sealing my fate.

The house was nothing like the cold, polished mansion I'd left. Warm wood stretched across the floors, its grain marked by years. The walls were lined with shelves of books, their spines worn and softened by time. The faint scent of smoke, and fresh coffee curled through the air. It felt... lived in. Like real.

He led me down a narrow hallway into a sitting room where a fireplace was. Its low crackle broke the silence in a way that made the room feel smaller, and more intimate.

He gestured to a couch, but I stayed standing, arms crossed, unwilling to sink into comfort I hadn't yet earned.

"You look like you have questions," he said, pouring amber liquid into a short glass. His movements were unhurried, as if control was stitched into his very being.

"That's an understatement," I replied, sharper than I meant to.

He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving mine. "You called for help. I'm helping. Simple as that."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's not the whole story. You and Wakes... you hate each other. So why help me?"

His eyes darkened, but his expression stayed steady. "Because you're the one thing he can't control."

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "That's not true."

"It is," he said quietly, placing the glass down with care. "Wakes built his empire on control, on fear, on loyalty bought and bound. Everyone bends to him. Except you. And that's what drives him insane."

His words scraped against the truth I'd buried deep. The loneliness. The silences that cut sharper than arguments. The way I'd been placed on a pedestal that felt more like a cage.

"So this is just another move in your war with him?" I asked.

"That's part of it."

"At least you're honest." My arms tightened across my chest.

"But not the whole truth," he added, stepping closer. The faint spice of his cologne was so unsettling.

I held my ground. "Then what is it?"

He paused, and for the briefest moment, the hard lines of his face eased. "Because... you're stronger than you realize. Because you didn't run when everyone expected you to. Because you survived."

A hundred questions clawed at the edge of my tongue, but his words pinned me in place.

"You don't trust me," he said with a small chuckle.

"Not yet."

He gave a small nod. "Good. You shouldn't trust anyone too quickly, not in this world."

The fire popped softly, and for a long moment, the only thing I could hear was my own breathing.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black phone. "This is yours, the phone is untraceable. Use it for me. If Wakes calls your old phone, don't answer or better still, switch it off."

I took the phone, its cold weight grounding me in the strangeness of the moment.

"Why all this?" I asked. "What do you want from me?"

He smiled, before answering. "It's not just about what I want. It's about balance. Wakes thinks he's untouchable. But I'm here to prove otherwise."

My jaw tightened. "And you think using me is the way to do that?"

"Not just using you," he said evenly. "Protecting you. Because if you fall, he wins. And I won't let that happen."

I looked at the phone again, feeling the weight of choices I hadn't even made yet. "What now?"

"Rest tonight," he said. "You're safe here."

Safe. The word felt foreign, like it belonged to another life.

He nodded toward a door down the hall. "Tomorrow, we plan. There's a war coming, and you're in the middle of it now."

I followed him to the guest room, my heart pounding not just from fear, but from the quiet, unsettling realization that I had stepped from one battlefield straight into another.

Because tonight, I had escaped Wakes Savage.

But very soon... The real fight will begin.