Silence hung heavy in the dimly lit room, broken only by the faint sound of my ragged breaths. I sat huddled on the edge of the couch, clutching the sheet tightly around my trembling body as I tried to make sense of his sick demand.

"Y-You want me to..." The words died in my throat, too vile to be voiced.

Alaric's cold gaze bore into mine. "You heard me. Do it."

Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't. The thought of complying with his vile demand made my skin crawl. "I-I can't," I whispered. "Please, I can't."

A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. "Don't make me ask twice, Sienna." He warned. "You know what will happen if you do."

No. I couldn't bear to give him what he wanted, to degrade myself in such an appalling manner.

As if sensing my hesitation, his expression hardened. In one swift motion, he reached behind him and pulled out his gun, aiming it directly at my head with chilling precision. The cold steel of the barrel gleamed in the dim light, a stark reminder of the power he held over me. "This time, I won't miss."

I fought to steady my breathing. If I didn't do it, he would shoot again—or worse, but I couldn't. I'd rather die than betray Tristan like that. "I can't...I can't."

His mouth tightened with scorn. "You can, and you will."

"No." I choked out, shaking my head in desperate denial. "Just kill me now. I won't."

Alaric's eyes narrowed. "You think I can't?"

The taste of fear was bitter in my mouth but my revulsion overpowered it. "My body belongs to Tristan," I said firmly, my voice trembling but resolute. "I'd rather die than have you defile it with your eyes."

That must have hit a chord somewhere inside him because the veins on his neck bulged as he held the gun tighter, pointing it at me. "Really? You're doing this for that bastard?"

"That bastard is the love of my life."

He growled. "Shut up, open your legs now, show it to me."

I squeezed the sheet tighter, keeping my knees locked.

He cocked his gun. "Last chance, open your fucking legs, Sienna."

I stared at his gun. He could kill me, we were close; he wouldn't miss. Yet, I still couldn't concede. My heart pounded, each beat echoing in my ears, but I stood my ground. "Over my dead body."

He snapped.

With a vicious snarl, he rose from his chair and lunged at me. It happened so fast. I screamed when he grabbed me by the throat and lifted me off the floor.

Not again.

My legs kicked out helplessly in the air as I clawed at his hand, gasping for breath, but despite how deeply my nails bit into his skin, he didn't flinch. "Do you still love him?" He hissed, his face inches from mine, eyes crazed. "Even now?"

Tears welled in my eyes. "I'll love him to death, you bastard."

Cursing loud, he spun me around and flung me across the room.

A searing pain, unlike anything I had ever felt before radiated through my body as I crashed into the table and landed hard on my stomach.

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck me, emitting outwards from my abdomen. I clutched my stomach, gasping for breath. What was this? The pain intensified, a deep, gnawing ache that made it hard to think, hard to breathe. What was this? Why did it hurt so much?

I didnt have time to process it. Alaric was relentless. He was on me before I could think of what to do, flipping me onto my back and pinning me down with his crushing weight.

"You think you're brave huh?"

"Get off me you sick son of a bitch!" I screeched, twisting and bucking beneath him.

He laughed. "He's not going to save you, Sienna. Give up."

No. I refused to give up. I thrashed around, scrambling to get away. Each movement sent a new wave of pain through my abdomen, but I ignored it, focusing on my will to escape. In the chaos, my nails raked across his face, finding skin and drawing it. He roared in anger and retaliated by roughly banging my head onto the floor.

Pain burst through, momentarily blinding me. It felt as though the back of my head had been split into two.

"Accept it, you're mine now."

No... Never. I had to fight. I had to survive. For myself. For Tristan. Rivulets of tears streamed down my face as I fought him back with every ounce of strength I had left in me.

His hands were on me, tearing at the sheets. We were both breathless, both fighting. My foot connected with his chest, pushing him back just enough to loosen his grip. I scrambled out from under him and fled on my knees but he grabbed my ankle, dragging me back across the floor with ease.

I screamed. "No! Let me go!"

The rough surface scraped against my skin, but I barely noticed the pain through the adrenaline and fear.

"You can't run, little one."

He had a cruel smile on his face as he shoved my knees apart. He enjoyed the struggle, he enjoyed seeing me in despair. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to gouge out his eyes, those eyes that stared down at me with so much sick amusement. My nails found his face again, gouging deep. "Rotten bastard! You'll burn in hell!"

He bellowed in rage but didn't let up. This time I felt him start to fiddle with his zipper and a new wave of terror instantly washed over me. I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't let him break me. Survival instincts kicked in. I reached out blindly, searching for anything I could use as a weapon. It seemed a futile attempt at first but my fingers suddenly brushed against something cold and metallic—a fork.

With all the strength I could muster, I grabbed the fork and rammed it into his neck. Blood splurted onto my face. Alaric screamed, his grip loosening as he reared back in pain. I took the opportunity to push him off me and scrambled to my feet.

The door was just a few steps away. I ran to it, my heart pounding in my chest, but when I reached it, I found it locked.

Oh God.

Panic surged through me as I fumbled with the lock, my fingers trembling. Behind me, I heard Alaric's pained groans turn into angry growls. "You bitch." he spat, pulling the fork from his neck with a sickening squelch.

Blood spewed, raining on the floor.

This time I was done for.

I turned back to the door and tugged hard on the rusty lock. Please! please! open!

I don't want to die like this.

Just as I managed to unjam the lock and fling the door open, Alaric grabbed me from behind and yanked me back, slamming the door shut.

His hand swung, delivering a sharp slap across my face. My ears rang from the pain. Before I could recover, his hands were around my throat, squeezing the life out of me.

I choked and gagged.

"Die, you bitch."

Fear coiled in my chest like a venomous serpent, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I wanted to scream but I couldn't. He was crushing my windpipe, crushing me.

Was this the end?

Spots danced before my eyes as darkness started to overwhelm my vision.

Was it true what they said? that your life flashed before your eyes in the moment of death?

Because I could see mine. It played out before me like an old movie.

My mother, humming a sweet melody as she made me my favorite chowder with the brightest smile on her face. Axton, chasing me around the garden with a water hose.

Tristan...

I could see him, smiling at me so lovingly. It was almost as if I could feel the warmth of his embrace, the gentle touch of his hand.

A tear slid down my face.

I missed him. I missed him so much.

My hands fell limply to my side as I felt the last bit of oxygen escape my lungs.

You put on a good fight, Sienna. Rest now.

I closed my eyes, finally accepting my fate.

But the door burst open, slamming against the wall with a force that shook the cabin.

"Get your fucking hands off her!"

My eyes snapped open.

Tristan.

His voice roared through the room, making my heart stumble.

He came for me.

Alaric was quick. He released my throat and spun me, using me as a human shield against the gun pointed at him. I inhaled deeply. His arm locked around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. With his free hand, he reached for his gun and pointed it at Tristan. "Took you long enough."

"Drop it or I'll fucking shoot," Tristan threatened, his voice a low growl. His eyes burned with fury, his gun unwavering. He looked lethal, a ticking bomb ready to go off.

Alaric released a harsh, bitter laugh. "You wouldn't risk it."

He was right.

He couldn't shoot without risking hitting me.

The room was filled with a tense silence, the only sound the heavy breathing of all three of us.

"Don't do this," Tristan implored, his voice steady but cold. "Let her go. This is between the two of us."

"You're wrong. This has everything to do with her." Alaric hissed, tightening his hold on me. The pain in my stomach flared again, and I groaned, clutching it. I didn't know how much of this I could take.

Tristan shifted his gaze to me, noticing my distress. "This doesn't have to end badly."

"Oh, but it will,"

Tristan took a cautious step forward, his gun still trained on Alaric. "We can end this peacefully."

Alaric's grip on me tightened, making it even harder to breathe. I could feel his heart pounding against my back, his body tense and ready to react to any sudden move. "There's no peace left for me. I went into this knowing I wouldn't come out alive. But if I'm going down, I'm taking her with me."

"You want revenge on me, not her," Tristan continued. "Let her go, and you and I can settle this."

His body vibrated as he released a strained laugh. He spat out some blood. "Look at you, acting all cool, trying to play the victim. I'm the victim! I'm the one who lost everything! So stop acting like a saint and tell her! Tell your precious wife how you fuckiing ruined my life, how you raped my wife and killed my fucking unborn child!"

My breath hitched.

Rape?

"Tell her, you bastard!" Alaric roared. "Gracie was a good soul, the purest of all. You ruined her, you ruined us! How could you?!"

My mind reeled. This couldn't be true...

I looked at Tristan. He wasn't saying anything. "Tristan..."

His eyes met mine. Tell me it's not true...

He looked away.

My stomach twisted. Just how dark was his past?

Alaric coughed. "Remember this cabin? It was the first place we took Laura, the first place it all started. You looked so happy that day. I watched you smile every time you swung that whip, I watched the blood-thirsty satisfaction in your eyes every time she begged you to make her bleed. I pulled you out of your shell, Tristan! Me! If not for me you would've been nothing but a miserable boy who couldn't get over the fact that mummy dearest made him suck her cunt."

My eyes went wide.

He knew.

"Shut up," Tristan warned through gritted teeth. "That's enough."

He laughed again. "You liked it, didn't you? sucking that old woman's cunt? Tell me, did fucking the same pussy you came from make you hard at night?"

Tristan cocked his gun.

"Come on, shoot." Alaric taunted. "Take the shot, you shameless runt!"

Tristan held his gun firm. "Don't act like you're a martyr in all this, you started this when you fucking—" He stopped and groaned. "Just let her go."

"No." Alaric pressed the cold barrel of his gun against my temple, nudging it hard enough to make me wince. "Drop your gun."

My pulse skittered into overdrive.

Oh, God no.

Alaric's breath was hot on my ear, a stark contrast to the chill of his gun. "Drop your fucking gun, Tristan, or she dies now."

My heart raced. "Tristan..." I called out, willing him to look at me, silently pleading for him to defy the order, to find another way. Alaric's madness was all-consuming, his hatred for him boundless. If he dropped that gun, he would shoot.

But he didn't look my way. His focus remained unyieldingly on Alaric, a tempest of emotions swirling in his eyes as he weighed his options. And, to my horror, he began to lower his gun slowly, placing it on the floor.

No.

Alaric's laughter echoed through the room. "Good boy," he taunted. "Now, kick it over here."

Tristan complied, his movements slow and deliberate. The gun skidded across the floor, stopping a few feet away from Alaric.

"Now, step back," Alaric commanded.

His hands clenched into fists by his side. I could see the helplessness in his expression, the frustration, the bitterness. He did as he was told. He took a few steps back and stopped.

"Kneel."

Alaric's sudden command sucked all the air out of the room, leaving me feeling lightheaded.

Tristan hesitated, reluctant to surrender the final piece of his dignity. He was a proud billionaire, a man who stood tall against every adversity and commanded respect without ever needing to demand it. He would never bend his knees.

"Kneel," Alaric demanded again, his voice a whip-crack in the tense air.

Yet Tristan stood his ground, silent and unmoving.

Alaric's grip tightened, his gun pressing harder against my temple. "Kneel, or I will splatter her brains across the fucking floor!"

His chest expanded with a deep breath. I could tell he was wavering. I shook my head. Don't do it, please don't do it.

"What's it going to be?" Alaric's voice was a mocking snarl. "Your pride or your dear missis life?"

It was a power trip. Alaric knew that. He knew that kneeling would break him in a way that bullets wouldn't.

For a moment, Tristan seemed immovable, a statue carved from granite. But his knees started to bend.

My breath shuddered. "Tristan..."

He refused to meet my eyes but I could see how much they burned with pain as his knees touched the floor.

Hot tears blurred my vision, splashing onto the cold, hard floor. Tristan, my stoic, unyielding Tristan, lowered himself to the floor, brought low for my sake.

Alaric chuckled. It was a mocking sound that grated against my ears, making my blood boil. "Now beg," he commanded. "Beg for her life."

"No!" I snapped. "It's enough! Please stop!"

"Beg!"

Frustration welled inside me. I thrashed against Alaric's hold. "Don't do this Tristan! You don't have to do this!"

Tristan's glare could melt steel, but he began to speak. "I'm begging you..." He started through gritted teeth, each word a struggle. "Please, don't hurt her."

Alaric's sneer widened. He swayed a little. "Come on cousin, is that all you've got? You can do better. Beg harder."

Tristan's knuckles turned white against his thighs. "Please, don't do this." He continued, his voice rough and raw. "She's all I've got. Hurt me instead, do to me whatever you want, just let her go, please."

His vulnerability was a knife to my heart. "Tristan, stop this!" I sobbed. "Get up!"

"Pathetic." Alaric spat. "You've always been so pathetic; always playing the victim, making everyone feel sorry for you. Such a poor broken boy. Maybe I should just kill you first." He moved the gun from my temple and took a new aim; Tristan's chest.

No, no, no!

Just as he cocked the gun to take the shot, I reeled forward and rammed my head back into his face with all the force I could muster.

Pain exploded in my skull. He roared in pain and staggered back but the gun still went off with a deafening blast and Tristan's shoulder jerked back, blood spraying from the wound.

I screamed in horror.

"Stupid bitch—" Alaric grabbed my hair and pointed the gun at me. "I should've killed you first." He cocked his gun again but before he could pull the trigger, Tristan lunged at him with a wild, unhinged fury, tackling him to the ground.

I stumbled and fell to the floor, gasping for air. The two men collided in front of me, grappling violently for control of the gun.

Another shot rang out, bouncing off the wall.

I screamed.

Tristan wrenched the gun from Alaric's hand and sent it skittering across the floor. "Run, Sienna! Get out of here now!"

"No!" I shouted. I couldn't just leave him. Not after everything. "You're hurt! I can't leave you!"

"Go!" He yelled again, more desperate this time. "Please!!"

The weight of the moment crashed over me—Tristan, kneeling, begging, and now fighting with everything he had. For me. I couldn't let it all be in vain. I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew I'd be more of a hindrance than help in this fight if I stayed.

With a final, tearful glance at him, I turned and ran toward the door.

I had to find help, had to get back to him. I burst through the door and into the cold night air, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind me, the sounds of their struggle filled the room—grunts, the thud of fists meeting flesh, the crash of bodies against furniture. Without looking back, I dashed into the looming forest.

The trees blurred past, flying by as I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. Branches scratched at my skin, and the underbrush snagged my makeshift sheet, but I pushed forward, driving deeper into the darkness of the forest.

I could hear my heartbeat, loud and frantic in my ears. I didnt know where I was going, I didn't know if this was the right path but I couldn't stop to think.

My lungs burned, and my legs screamed in protest, but I pressed on, pushing myself to the brink of exhaustion.

I had to keep going, to keep running.

But then the sound of a gunshot echoed from the cabin behind me, making my breath catch in my throat.

I stopped and turned.

Tristan.

A sudden sharp, searing pain tore through my stomach. It was so intense that I doubled over and cried out in agony. Just then I felt something warm and wet trickle down my legs. I clutched my stomach and looked down, Blood. Dark and wet, it was dripping down my legs, pooling on the forest floor beneath me.

Panic seized me.

What...what was happening? Why was I bleeding?

Another gunshot echoed in the night, making me jolt.

Oh god, Tristan.

My heart clenched. I tried to move, to keep running, but my body wouldn't obey. Agony shot through me like fire. My knees gave out. I collapsed to the ground. No, no, this couldn't be happening. Not now. I had to get up. I had to help Tristan. I bit back a cry of suffering as I tried to pick myself up.

But the pain was too much.

I fell back down, crying. Every attempt to stand sent waves of agony up my leg. I couldn't do this. I tried but my body just wouldn't move. So I sat there against the rough tree trunk, tears streaming hotly down my face as the hope I had once felt when I escaped the cabin turned into dread.

I should have stayed, I should've fought by his side and done everything I could to help him.

Looking up at the star-speckled heavens through the dense canopy of leaves, I offered a desperate prayer. "God please," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Just this once, hear my prayers and come to my aid."

Just then, a familiar voice shattered the eerie silence, calling my name with urgency and worry. "Sienna!"

I turned, my heart leaping into my throat. Through the dim light filtering through the trees, I saw a figure sprinting towards me.

Stefan?

I squinted my eyes.

Oh, my God, Stefan!

"Stefan!" I yelled, relief flooding through me like a rushing tide, but it was short-lived as another wave of pain hit me like a freight train. I cried out.

"Sienna!" Stefan rushed to me. "Oh God, Sienna." He crashed down beside me.

"Tristan—he needs help." I stammered frantically, clutching my stomach. "We have to go back for Tristan. He was shot, he-he can't fight alone."

But Stefan wasn't listening. He had zoned out, his face pale with horror as he stared at the blood stain.

"Sienna..." His breath shuddered from his lungs. "You're—you're bleeding..."

I shook his shoulders. "Listen to me! Tristan, he—" Another tide of pain hit me, more intense than the last. I screamed, squeezing his shirt.

Stefan quickly scooped me up in his arms. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No... Tristan," I protested weakly, feeling the effect of the adrenaline start to wear off.

"I'll get you to the hospital first." He said firmly as he started to run.

I couldn't argue even if I wanted to. Numbness stole over my body. My eyes fluttered. I gripped Stefan's shirt. "Feel so dizzy..."

"Stay awake for me, okay!" He begged, breathless. "Eyes open!" He was running fast, his steps pounding hard against the ground.

I tried to hold on, to stay conscious but black dots swarmed again and my grip on reality slipped.