Days passed with tension thick as fog.
Sebastian didn't leave. He didn't call. He didn't text. But he was always there, in the back of her mind, in every shadow, in every sound.
Isabella tried to work, tried to eat, tried to sleep. Every small sound made her heart jump.
She had changed apartments again, but Marcus always found her.
"You need to rest," he said one morning, handing her coffee.
"I can't," she muttered, rubbing her temples.
"Sir… she's exhausted," Marcus whispered when Sebastian appeared silently behind her.
"She's mine," Sebastian said flatly. "Exhausted or not. She can't escape. Not now. Not ever."
At work, Olivia confronted her again.
"Izzy, stop hiding! You can't keep avoiding everyone. Something's going on. I can feel it!"
"I told you…" Isabella's voice trembled. "I have to handle this myself!"
Olivia grabbed her hand. "No. Not this time. You can't. You need help. Please. You're not alone."
Isabella shook her head. "I… I can't. Not from anyone."
Olivia sighed, frustration and concern mixing. "Then… don't say I didn't warn you when it all blows up."
That night, Isabella heard a knock at her window.
Her heart jumped. She pressed herself to the floor.
A shadow lingered outside. A silhouette. Tall. Broad. Cold.
She swallowed hard.
"I… I won't open—"
"It's me," a voice said softly.
Her chest tightened. "You… how—"
"I told you. I will find you. I told you I'm coming."
Her hands shook. "Go… leave me alone!"
He didn't move. He didn't leave.
"I'm not going anywhere. Not from you. Not from this."