Scarlett POV:
Please, Mr. Grey, I beg of you—just hear me out!" I cried, my voice breaking, but he didn't even spare me a glance.
I rushed to him, blocking his path to the balcony door, my arms spread wide like a bird about to take flight.
He didn't flinch, just tucked his hands into his pockets and stared at me with cold, emotionless eyes.
"Don't make me repeat myself," he said, his voice sharp, commanding.
"Please—just hear me out." I hesitated, my breath shallow as I fought to hold his gaze. "And… I promise I'll pay you back."
He let out a low chuckle, his eyes mocking me.
Leaning in slightly, his voice dropped to a whisper, full of disdain.
"What could you possibly offer me?"
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my racing heart. "I'll do anything—anything you say. Just… please, listen."
He laughed again, this time more cruelly, his teeth glinting like polished ivory. If it weren't for the way my body trembled, I might've admired them.
"You're already under my control," he said, his tone cold and final. "You won't dare defy me. So stop with these pathetic little bargains, and focus on leaving my house alive."
Before I could even react, he shoved me aside, sending me crashing to the floor with brutal force.
The pain shot through my body, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
Hot tears blurred my vision as I curled into a ball, burying my face in my hands.
No one would help me. The one person who could—who should—was turning me away without a second thought.
I cried, my body wracked with sobs, the weight of hopelessness pressing down on me. When my tears finally stopped, I stood, wiped my face, and sucked in a shaky breath.
I wasn't giving up. I couldn't.
I opened the balcony door and stepped inside, the cool air biting my skin, but my resolve was stronger than the cold.
One last try. Maybe he'd listen. Maybe… maybe this time, he wouldn't throw me out of the window.
I had to try.
I approached him again, and this time, I saw he was on the phone. He turned to face me as I came closer, his cold gaze piercing me like a weapon.
For a brief moment, I thought he might soften, maybe feel some pity for me.
But before I could even open my mouth, he grabbed my wrist with a strength that left no room for escape and began dragging me out of the room.
I screamed, struggling, my heart racing as I fought to free myself. His grip tightened, and the air between us crackled with danger.
In an instant, he slammed me against the wall, his hand covering my mouth. His grip was so forceful, I feared my jaws might snap under the pressure.
I groaned.
"Xavier, what the hell is that noise?" I heard from his phone. The voice—gravelly, familiar—was like a punch in the gut.
"That's none of your damn business, Damien," Xavier snapped, the anger in his voice clear. "Just get to the point."
Damien. I remembered him—the same guy Xavier had talked to when he'd been torturing his men.
I strained to listen. Maybe Damien would be able to help me. Maybe Xavier wouldn't be so cruel if someone else got involved.
"Don't hurt her," Damien's voice came through, concerned. "How the hell did she even get in? I thought your house was supposed to be a secret."
Xavier's rage flared. "Shut up, Damien. I don't need you questioning me."
I could feel his grip tightening around my mouth,like he was trying to break me apart. His hand, blocking my air-holes. Without thinking I bit him, implying every force in me.
He hissed in pain and hastily removed his hand. His brows furrowed in anger.
Damien's voice softened. "Come on, Xavier. Don't be like this. You know you can't just—"
Before Damien could finish, Xavier cut him off, his voice dropping dangerously. "Just come by tomorrow, okay? You'll get your answers."
The line went dead. Xavier's eyes, cold and lethal, turned back to me.
I barely had time to react before he grabbed my neck, lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing.
I screamed, trying to claw at his hand, but it was like steel wrapped around my throat.
"You talk too much," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "One more word from you, and I'll snap your neck."
My heart hammered in my chest, each beat like a ticking clock counting down to my end.
"Am sorry ," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. "Please, let me go."
"Sorry for yourself," he spat, shoving me away like I was nothing. "Get out. Now."
I didn't argue. I didn't dare. I stumbled to my feet and ran—fast—back to my room.
Inside, I slammed the door shut and leaned against it, gasping for breath as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away.
I was safe… for now. But I didn't feel safe.
Sitting on my bed, I let the panic fade. My mind began to race again, spinning with plans.
Tomorrow, when Damien came… maybe I could convince him. Maybe he'd listen when Xavier wouldn't.
Damien seemed kind. I didn't know how much help he'd be, but it was my only shot.
I had to try.
Taking a deep breath, I stood and moved to brush my teeth. I needed to clear my head before I faced Xavier again.
Damien's POV :
As I drove to Xavier's house, my mind raced. What the hell had he done to that girl?
No one outside of Xavier's circle—no one who saw the inner workings of his world—lived to tell the story. The thought of her being caught in that web made my stomach churn. She had no idea what she was walking into.
The gates were open when I arrived, a silent invitation into the chaos I had learned to navigate. One of the guards directed me to park among the cars—sleek, expensive, well-maintained.
Xavier lived like a king, but I knew better than anyone that wealth and power couldn't buy happiness.
Not for him.
I stepped inside and found Xavier lounging in an armchair, a glass of wine in his hand, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
It was early for him—too early.
"Hey," I greeted, offering my hand.
I noticed the bandage on his hand, barely a mark, but still enough to raise questions.
"What's with the hand?" I asked as I sat down.
He glanced at it, then back at me, his expression unreadable.
"I got bitten by a pink-headed pony," he said, the dry humor in his voice not quite masking the tension underneath.
I raised an eyebrow. "Wait... you mean her?"
"Yeah. She's probably twenty, maybe more," he muttered, clearly not thrilled by the memory.
"And she still bites?" I couldn't help but smile.
"Yeah. So I had to get a rabies shot." He shrugged nonchalantly, though I could see a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
I took a deep breath, knowing Xavier well enough to ask the next question. "So, what's her deal?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Long story short, she ran into me during a police raid. Got caught up in something bigger than she ever imagined. And now... she knows who I am."
I stared at him, surprised. She knows?
He handed me a file. "Here. Everything you need to know."
I flipped through the pages.
Her record was clean—almost too clean. Until I came to the last page.
Her father's murder.
I stared at the words, stunned.
What the hell?
I looked up at Xavier. "A murder suspect? Really?"
He gave a half-smile.
Yeah . This could get interesting.