Chapter 1: The Rescue

The rain didn’t fall—it slammed. Each drop felt like a slap against Bella’s skin, cold and punishing. The kind of rain that soaks through to your bones and makes you feel like the universe is trying to wash you away.

She should have brought a coat. Should have packed better. Should have had a plan.

But Bella had learned something over the past year: plans didn’t survive reality. Not when reality came in the shape of a man who smiled sweetly and yelled even sweeter. Not when love turned into control, and affection into cages. Not when every promise became a noose.

She tugged her suitcase behind her, the broken wheel dragging uselessly, catching on pebbles and cracks in the road. Her clothes clung to her body, heavy and uncomfortable. Her phone had died an hour ago, and she didn’t care enough to charge it. There was no one to call.

She’d left. Finally. Slipped out while he was in the shower. Left the key on the counter like a goodbye. She didn’t take everything—just enough to remind herself she still existed.

Bella didn’t know where she was going. She only knew she couldn’t stay.

A car whooshed past, spraying more water onto her jeans. She flinched, teeth chattering now. There were no streetlights out here, just the eerie glow of distant buildings, blurred by rain. Her fingers ached from gripping the handle. Her shoes squelched with every step.

She was tired. Tired of pretending, of surviving, of holding herself together with shaky hands and fake smiles.

Then she heard it.

A different engine. Slower. Sleeker.

She turned her head, hair plastered to her cheek. A black BMW approached—polished, out of place on this road. It didn’t pass her.

It stopped.

The window slid down with a soft mechanical hiss, revealing a man inside. He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at her.

Bella stared back, blinking rain out of her eyes. He looked calm. Controlled. Clean. His charcoal-gray suit didn’t have a single wrinkle. His black hair was swept back like he didn’t know what chaos felt like. His jaw was sharp. His eyes even sharper.

“Get in,” he said finally, voice like silk over steel.

Bella hesitated. “What?”

“You’re freezing. You look like you’ve been walking for miles. It’s not safe out here.”

Her heart thudded. She didn’t know him. She should say no. But something about him was magnetic—dangerous, yes—but not the kind of danger that made her want to run. The kind that made her want to… stay.

“I’m not getting into a stranger’s car,” she replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

“I’m not asking,” he said, softer now. “I’m offering.”

She stared at him, searching his face for malice, for cruelty, for the kind of smirk she was used to. She didn’t see it.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she whispered.

“Good. Then you’ll have no problem coming with me.”

She shouldn’t. Every part of her knew this was stupid.

But her hand moved anyway. She opened the door and stepped in.

Warmth wrapped around her instantly—too warm, too comfortable. The contrast made her want to cry. She bit down on her bottom lip and closed the door.

The man didn’t say anything as he pulled away from the curb. The car was silent but powerful, gliding over the wet road with ease. Bella sank into the seat, staring straight ahead, hands clenched in her lap.

“What’s your name?” he asked, eyes on the road.

“Bella.”

“Pretty,” he said. “I’m Damian.”

She nodded, still watching the windshield.

“Do you do this often?” she asked. “Pick up stray girls from the roadside?”

“Only when they look like they’re trying not to fall apart,” Damian replied casually. “And only when they’re interesting.”

Bella turned to him slowly. “I’m not interesting.”

He glanced at her, one corner of his mouth twitching.

“I think you are.”

His voice wasn’t flirtatious. It was calm. Direct. He said it like a statement of fact, not a compliment. It disarmed her more than charm ever could.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Somewhere safe.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“This time, it’s true.”

Silence stretched between them again, but it wasn’t empty. It was charged—like the quiet before lightning strikes. She found herself studying him more closely now. The way his fingers rested on the wheel. The expensive watch on his wrist. The scar beneath his jaw.

He looked like danger dressed in confidence.

“I don’t trust people,” she said eventually.

“Neither do I,” he answered.

“So why are you helping me?”

Damian exhaled slowly, the air inside the car thickening.

“Because,” he said, “some people break things because they enjoy it. And some people pick up what’s broken, even if they don’t know how to fix it.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

He turned onto a private road lined with tall trees, the gravel crunching under the tires. Up ahead, a massive house loomed, its windows glowing softly like lanterns in the dark.

“Your house?” she asked, her voice smaller now.

“Yes.”

“You live alone?”

Damian parked in front of the house and turned to her. His eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something else—something darker. Not evil. Not malice.

But intensity. Control. Possession.

“I don’t let people in,” he said. “But tonight, I’m making an exception.”

He got out and came around to open her door, holding an umbrella. She stared up at him as he waited.

“Why me?” she asked, still seated.

“Because you didn’t ask for help,” he said. “And that’s how I know you need it the most.”

She stepped out.

The rain had softened to a drizzle now, but her heart still pounded like thunder.

She had no idea who Damian Wolfe really was. But she had a feeling that once she stepped into his world, she wouldn’t be able to walk back out unchanged.

And yet… she followed him inside anyway.

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