Chapter 5

Isabella saw I was unharmed and visibly sighed in relief.

Then she saw Sebastian, covered in wounds, her eyes filled with pain.

Finally, she closed her eyes and, with a pained heart, pointed. "Let Sebastian go."

I gave a self-deprecating smile. What was I even hoping for…

Sebastian was released. Isabella held his weak form, tears of distress streaming down her face.

"Isabella, these men were hired by Sebastian," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She froze, then shook her head violently. "Don't try to drive a wedge between us. Not now."

Sebastian groaned dramatically in her arms, clutching at her sleeve. "Isabella... he's lying. Why would I kidnap myself?"

The kidnappers exchanged uneasy glances. Their employer was right there, putting on a show. But money was money.

"He's all yours," the leader said, jerking his chin toward me. "We got what we came for."

They melted into the shadows, leaving me tied to the pillar.

Isabella carried Sebastian toward the exit, her bodyguards flanking them. She paused at the threshold, not turning around.

"Jacob."

My heart clenched.

"Someone will come untie you. Go home and rest."

The door slammed shut, and I was alone in the warehouse.

I don't know how long I sat there. Minutes? Hours? The ropes bit into my wrists, but I barely felt it. The pain inside was far worse.

She chose him. She would always choose him.

When the bodyguard finally arrived to cut me loose, my wrists were raw and bleeding. He looked uncomfortable.

"Young Mr. Sterling, the car is outside—"

"I'm not going back."

He blinked. "Ma'am's orders—"

"Tell Isabella I said thank you. For everything."

I walked out of the warehouse into the cold night air. The city lights glittered in the distance like scattered diamonds — beautiful and completely indifferent.

I had seven hundred dollars in coins hidden in my guest room. I had my mother's address scrawled on a piece of paper tucked inside my sock.

I wasn't going back to that house. Not tonight. Not ever.

I walked for hours. My feet bled through the expensive Italian leather shoes Sebastian had picked out for me. The irony wasn't lost on me — even now, I was wearing something he'd chosen.

At a bus station on the outskirts of the city, I sat on a bench and counted out coins with trembling fingers. Enough for a one-way ticket to the town where my mother lived.

The next bus wasn't until 6 AM. I curled up on the bench, using my suit jacket as a pillow.

For the first time in a year, no one was watching me. No one was recording me. No one was going to wake me up with a bucket of ice water or a boot to the ribs.

I closed my eyes and, despite everything, smiled.

Tomorrow, I would be free.

But at 5:47 AM, thirteen minutes before my bus was supposed to arrive, a black sedan pulled up to the station. Two of Isabella's men stepped out.

"Young Mr. Sterling. Ma'am requests your return."

I didn't move.

"It wasn't a request, sir."

They lifted me off the bench like I weighed nothing — which, after a year on Devil's Island, I practically didn't — and placed me in the back seat.

As the car pulled away from the station, I watched the bus arrive in the side mirror. The doors opened. Passengers boarded.

The doors closed.

And my chance at freedom drove off without me.