Chapter 19 — The Vault (or When Secrets Finally Bite Back)
The steel door sealed shut behind them with a heavy clang, locking out the world — and trapping all the tension inside.
For a moment, there was nothing but the low hum of filtered air and the faint echo of their breathing. The vault was stark, clinical, too bright after the tunnel's shadows — polished metal walls, a single reinforced glass table, and a console humming softly in the corner.
Arielle stood in the middle of it all, trembling from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Her hair clung to her face, her violet gown torn at the hem, and her heart refused to slow.
"What was that?" she demanded finally, her voice shaking. "Who were those people?"
Damian holstered his weapon with practiced calm, his expression unreadable. "Not here."
"Not here?" she echoed, incredulous. "You dragged me through a tunnel, almost got us killed, shot at shadows — and you want me to just wait?"
He looked at her then — really looked — and for the first time, the perfect composure in his eyes cracked. "You weren't supposed to be involved in this."
"Oh, that's comforting," she snapped. "I'm so sorry for ruining your plans by nearly dying tonight."
His jaw flexed, the muscle ticking once. "Arielle—"
"No." She stepped closer, fury sparking through her fear. "You keep saying my name like it means something, but you've done nothing but keep me in the dark! Who are they? And why do they want me?"
He didn't answer. Just stared at her — silent, heavy, calculating.
"Say something!" she shouted.
Damian's hand slammed down on the console beside him, the sound echoing like thunder. "Because you're not who you think you are!"
The words hung between them, electric.
Arielle froze. "What?"
He exhaled hard, dragging a hand through his hair. The control in his tone was gone now — replaced by a raw, dangerous honesty. "You think this is about me? About some petty corporate drama? Those men weren't after me, Arielle. They were after you."
She shook her head slowly, disbelief warring with the pounding in her chest. "That's— that's insane. I'm no one. I'm—"
"You're the heir to something bigger than any of us," he cut in. "And the moment you walked into that gala tonight, every predator in the room recognized your face."
Her pulse stuttered. "You knew?"
"I suspected."
"You suspected?" she repeated, voice rising. "And you still let me go to that gala like a target on display?"
"I couldn't risk tipping them off before I was sure!"
The air vibrated with the force of his voice. Arielle took a step back, eyes wide. Damian caught himself instantly, his tone dropping low again. "If I'd told you, you would've panicked. And panic gets people killed."
She laughed — brittle and humorless. "So instead, you decided to play my savior in a tuxedo?"
Damian looked away, jaw tightening. "I decided to keep you alive."
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was the soft hum of machinery, the echo of everything unsaid.
Finally, Arielle's voice broke the silence, quiet but sharp. "You knew something was coming. You've been watching me, haven't you?"
He didn't deny it.
"That's why you're always there — every time something goes wrong. You knew." Her voice cracked. "Damian, what are you hiding from me?"
His eyes met hers — storm-dark, conflicted. "Things I can't tell you yet."
She stared at him, something fragile and furious breaking inside her. "Then I can't trust you."
The words hit him like a slap. He didn't move — didn't blink — just stood there as if every ounce of his control was keeping him from reacting.
Finally, he said quietly, "You don't have to trust me, Arielle. Just stay alive long enough to hate me later."
Her breath hitched — not from fear this time, but something more dangerous.
He turned toward the console, pressing a sequence of commands. A digital map flickered onto the glass screen, showing red dots moving along the tunnel routes they'd escaped. "They're searching the area. We have maybe ten minutes before they find the main access point."
Arielle stepped beside him, her voice trembling. "You're not leaving me here alone."
"I wasn't planning to," he said. "But if they break through, I'll draw them away. You take the side exit — it leads to the upper district. Blend in. Don't look back."
"Stop giving orders," she snapped, eyes bright with unshed tears. "You don't get to decide who gets left behind."
He turned then, close enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. "You think this is about control?" His voice was a whisper, dangerous and low. "This is about you living through the night."
Her breath trembled as he leaned closer. His hand lifted, hesitated — then finally touched her cheek. Just a brush, a fleeting, burning moment of contact.
"I told myself I could do this without caring," he murmured. "That I could keep you safe and keep my distance. But—"
The alarm blared.
Red lights strobed across the vault walls, shattering the moment. Damian's expression hardened in an instant. "They've breached the lower tunnel."
He spun toward the weapons locker, pulling out a compact rifle and tossing her a smaller one. "Can you shoot?"
Arielle blinked, catching it clumsily. "Do I look like I can shoot?"
He gave a humorless smirk. "Guess we'll find out."
Then, as the heavy door began to rattle under impact, he stepped in front of her again — protector, soldier, contradiction — and said the only thing she didn't expect to hear:
"If anything happens, don't be afraid to run. I'll find you."
Arielle stared at him, heart pounding, eyes wide and wet. "You better," she whispered.
The metal door groaned under another hit. Damian raised his weapon, eyes sharp.
And just as the vault lights flickered again — plunging them into pulsing red darkness — Arielle realized that whatever truth he was hiding…
it was about to explode into the open.
Xoxo Eloura 😘😍