My hand instinctively moved toward my stomach, protecting what I had not even spoken aloud yet.
We drove into an industrial area where empty buildings stood like forgotten promises, and they brought me into a warehouse lit by a single harsh bulb.
Time stretched painfully as they talked about money and betrayal, and I realized with cold certainty that Julian would not come for me.
The door finally opened, and Ethan Vale walked in as if he had been expected all along.
“You took the wrong woman,” he said calmly, his eyes landing on me before anything else.
“She is connected to the debt,” one of the men replied, clearly irritated.
“No,” Ethan said, his voice lowering slightly, “she is under my protection.”
“Since when?” the man challenged.
“Since this morning,” Ethan answered without hesitation.
The tension broke slowly, like ice cracking under pressure, and eventually they let me go because something in Ethan’s presence made resistance seem foolish.
He took my hand and led me out, his grip steady, and the cold air outside felt unreal after the suffocating fear inside.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked once we reached the car.