Ashley's POV:
"Ashley! Get up! You're going to be late for your own presentation!"
The morning sun didn't just spill through the blinds—it cannonballed into the room, illuminating what could only be described as organized chaos. Clothes draped over a literature textbook. Fairy lights tangled in a dying houseplant. Four coffee cups balanced in a precarious tower on the nightstand.
From beneath a mountain of blankets, a hand emerged and waved lazily.
"I'm not late," a muffled voice protested. "I'm building suspense."
Chloe, Ashley's long-suffering roommate since sophomore year, ripped the blankets off with surgical precision. "You're building a failing grade in literature. Get up, you menace! Do you want to embarrass yourself in front of the entire English department?"
Ashley sat up, her hair a defiant storm of curls, grinning like chaos incarnate. "I'm fashionably late, Chloe. It makes the opening line hit harder."
"No one's listening to your opening line if you show up smelling like you slept in a pizza box," Chloe shot back, tossing her a clean sweater.
"Rude. It was tacos." Ashley bounded out of bed, her usual whirlwind of energy filling the cramped dorm room. She paused mid-motion, catching Chloe's eye, and smiled—softly, sincerely. Chloe had been her constant through everything: college, healing, and learning how to live without fear. Friendship wasn't something Ashley took for granted anymore.
It had been three years since the flight, the safehouses, and the final, careful move to this quiet college town far from the coast—far from him. Her family was whole again. Her parents worked at the local university, living the quiet life they'd once only dreamed of. The lines of fear around their eyes had softened. Even Daniel laughed again.
Ashley had thrown herself into academia like someone tasting sunlight after years underground. The trauma had left a scar—thin, pale, but permanent. Still, she refused to let it define her. She was chaos wrapped in light, a sunbeam that refused to dim.
In the bathroom, she brushed her teeth while attempting to wrestle her hair into something resembling human order. Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Daniel: Heard you're giving a presentation today. Try not to spontaneously combust from genius ;) Good luck, Ash. Don't forget we're driving Mom and Dad to the lake house this weekend.
Ashley grinned, typing with a toothpaste-covered finger.
Ashley: No promises. I'll be home by 5. And if you touch the garlic bread before I get there, I'm telling them about that parking ticket.
She shoved her laptop into her bag, blew Chloe a kiss, and darted for the door.
"See you at the café at noon! Don't be late!"
"You're already late!" Chloe yelled after her, but Ashley was gone—flying down the dorm stairs, laughter echoing behind her.
The lecture hall was already buzzing when she skidded in, breathless, with thirty seconds to spare. Her professor looked up, amused.
"Sorry, Professor Evans!" she called. "Traffic was… existential!"
He shook his head, smiling. "You're up, Ms. Bennett."
Ashley didn't just give a presentation—she performed it. She moved through the room like she owned it, turning dry analysis into art, coaxing laughs out of even the most cynical students. She was brilliant. Unfiltered. Entirely herself.
When it was over, the applause felt real—not polite, but warm.
As she packed up, her phone buzzed again.
Daniel: Mom's ordering extra garlic bread just for you. Get moving. We miss the chaos.
Ashley smiled, the kind of smile that didn't hurt anymore. That was her life now—love, safety, and the freedom to create her own chaos. The shadow of Roman was still out there somewhere, vast and distant as the ocean. But Ashley had built her own shore, and she was anchored firmly to it. She was safe—not because the monster was gone, but because she'd learned how to keep him out.
Chloe appeared in the doorway holding two large chocolate milks. "There you are! You crushed it, obviously. I brought your reward. Now come on—we're going to be late for lunch."
Ashley took the cup, her grin bright and easy. She glanced toward the sunlight spilling through the windows—the open world waiting beyond the gates.
"You know what?" she said quietly. "Let's skip lunch. Let's just go home. I need to hug my brother and my parents. I feel… really good."
And for once, she did. Truly.
As they stepped into the light, the sunbeam shone brighter than ever.
But somewhere, far away, in the cold silence of Zurich, the darkness stirred.
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Roman's POV:
The rain was relentless, drumming against Zurich's iron heart. It came down in silver sheets, softening the skyline, erasing edges. Roman stood there, drenched, the city lights bending around him like ghosts that refused to look him in the eye.
His gloves were soaked, the faintest trace of red dissolving into the puddles at his feet. He didn't glance back at the man behind him—an old acquaintance of Ashley Bennett's, someone who'd once thought it was safe to speak her name aloud. That was reason enough.
He lifted his head to the storm, eyes half-closed, letting the rain wash the moment clean. A baptism for the damned.
She'd run. Three years ago, she'd looked him in the eyes and chosen escape over obedience. Chosen freedom over him. The memory of that night still burned like salt in an open wound—the door slamming, her breath ragged, the sound of her name in his mouth as she vanished into the dark.
He remembered her trembling hands, the way she used to flinch when he touched her hair. Not fear, not exactly—something closer to awareness. She'd known she was his. She'd known he didn't share.
Roman's jaw tightened. "You were supposed to stay," he whispered, barely audible beneath the rain. "You were supposed to understand."
Possession had always felt like love to him. He'd convinced himself that keeping her was protection. That the cage was safety. That his control was care. But when she escaped—when she'd left him standing in the wreckage—something inside him had split clean through.
She hadn't just run. She'd humiliated him. Broken the one rule that defined his world: nothing leaves Roman unless he allows it.
The empire could be rebuilt. The money could be replaced. But her defiance—her refusal to belong—was the kind of betrayal that demanded balance.
He looked out over the city. Zurich glittered like a circuit board, perfect and soulless. A fitting place for a man who'd traded mercy for method.
"She thought she could disappear," he murmured. The rain drowned out the sound of his laugh—it wasn't cruel, just tired. "But I still feel her in every quiet room. Every breath I take that doesn't belong to me."
His hand tightened around the railing. He imagined her smile, the one she'd given him when she still thought he could change. He'd memorized it. Stored it somewhere dark.
"You made me human," he said softly, "and then you ran from the monster you created."
Lightning cracked across the sky, white and violent. For an instant, his reflection shone in the glass across the street—a figure carved from restraint and ruin.
He turned, rain streaming off his coat, and walked toward the waiting car. There was no need to rush. Revenge was patient.
"Rest well, Ashley," he whispered, almost fondly. "You're still mine. You just don't know it yet."
The lightning split the sky, and for an instant, the whole city looked carved out of silver. He straightened, his reflection fractured in the water below.
"Enough hiding," he said quietly. "For both of us."
He turned and walked toward the waiting car. The rain kept falling, and somewhere across the ocean, he knew she must have felt it too—a chill without reason, a heartbeat out of rhythm, the past reaching forward again.
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Author's Note 💀✨
Three years later and guess what? Our girl Ashley is still allergic to punctuality ⏰ and thriving on caffeine and chaos ☕🌪️. I had to give her (and you) a breather before diving back into the emotional meat grinder—because even sunbeams need coffee breaks, right? 🌞💅
And yes, Roman's out here brooding in Zurich 🧊🏙️ like an emotionally unavailable Bond villain who forgot therapy was an option. 🖤📉
This chapter is the calm before the chaos—the fake sense of safety before everything inevitably goes boom. 💣😈
So grab your chocolate milk, light a candle for Chloe's sanity 🕯️😵💫, and buckle up. The storm hasn't passed… it's just recharging. 🌩️
—Vaanni 🖤