“Let her go, Rafael!” Alexander’s voice cracks as he stumbles forward, blood staining his shirt, his face pale and sweaty from the pain. He barely stands, but his eyes burn with determination. “She’s not yours. She never was.”
Rafael’s eyes flicker toward him, his expression unreadable for a moment. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. His hand is still wrapped around Elena’s wrist, holding her tightly, his grip unrelenting.
“Elena is mine,” Rafael says, his voice cold and full of finality. He turns his attention back to her, his eyes narrowing as he assesses her every move. “She doesn’t have a choice.”
Elena feels a chill run down her spine at his words. She knows it’s true. As long as Rafael breathes, she has no choice. She’s been running, hiding, plotting… but deep down, she’s always known this day would come. The day she would have to make a choice. The choice between the man who’s been her captor, and the man she’s been trying to save.
The air between them crackles with tension. Elena looks from Rafael to Alexander, her heart pounding in her chest. She wants to run. She wants to pull Alexander into her arms and never look back. But she knows that if she does that, Rafael will hunt them down, and they’ll never be free.
“Make your choice, Elena,” Rafael whispers, his voice almost a caress, but there’s something dark in it. “You know I’ll never stop. I’ll always find you. So, choose. Who will you be with?”
The question hangs in the air like a guillotine, sharp and unforgiving. Elena’s mind races, but her heart feels heavy, trapped between two worlds. She looks at Alexander—his face bruised, bloodied, but still full of the fire she’s come to love. His eyes are pleading with her, full of hope, but also fear.
“Please,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “Don’t let him win.”
Rafael smirks, clearly enjoying the torment in Elena’s eyes. “You see, Elena? He’s weak. He’ll never be able to protect you the way I can.”
Elena flinches at his words. The accusation, the insinuation, it’s all too much. She’s heard it before. She’s heard it from him for years. But this time, it feels different. This time, she’s had enough.
“I’m not weak,” she mutters, though the words barely come out. Her hand is shaking, but not from fear. From anger. From frustration. She has no idea how much longer she can stand this.
Rafael steps closer, tightening his grip on her arm, his thumb pressing into the tender flesh of her wrist. “You don’t have a choice,” he growls, his face inches from hers.
But Elena’s heart doesn’t flutter anymore. It doesn’t skip. It’s calm, steady, determined. The chaos around her fades into the background, and she knows exactly what she has to do.
“Elena…” Alexander says, his voice cracking again. He’s struggling, his body shaking with exhaustion, but his gaze is unwavering. He looks at her as if he’s already lost everything, and all he has left is her. “Please… don’t do this for me. You don’t owe me anything.”
Rafael’s grip tightens as he looks at Alexander, his lips curling into a smirk. “He’s already lost, Elena. You know that. You’re mine now. And there’s no going back.”
Elena feels the weight of his words. But as his hands tighten on her arm, something inside her snaps. She doesn’t owe Rafael anything. She doesn’t owe him her loyalty, her life, or her love. And she won’t let him take Alexander from her, no matter what it costs.
Without thinking, she leans into Rafael, her lips brushing his ear as if she’s giving in. His grip loosens slightly, a moment of triumph flashing across his face. His eyes darken, expecting her to say the words he’s been waiting for. “I choose you,” he thinks.
But Elena isn’t choosing him. Not now. Not ever.
Instead, her lips press against his, but it’s not a kiss of surrender. It’s a kiss of defiance. She lets her lips linger, giving him what he wants, letting him believe he’s won. And then, with a swift movement, she pulls a hidden blade from her sleeve and drives it into his side.