A week and three days.
That's how long it had been since Ariel last saw Alex.
Since she last heard his voice, felt the warmth of his presence. Since the day he walked out of the house… and never came back.
And she hadn't called him.
Not once.
Not because she didn't want to.
But because she was scared. Scared he might not pick up. Scared Simon would find out and make things worse for him.
But mostly… scared he wouldn't come back at all.
"Alex... please be safe," she whispered to herself.
For the past few days, the only thing that made sense to her was training.
---
It was a bright Saturday morning, the sun glistening through the gym's high glass windows, but Ariel wore black from head to toe, black leggings, black tank top, black gloves. Her hair was tied into a messy ponytail, strands clinging to her sweat-slick skin as she jabbed the punching bag with sharp, practiced blows.
Each punch was a thought.
A memory.
A regret.
She envisioned the bag as Simon. Pictured his ugly, mocking face.
"Call him," her heart whispered.
Her fist landed harder. "No. I don't want him making things worse for Alex."
"Beg him to come back."
Her knee slammed into the bag. "Never. I will never beg Simon."
The guards watched from the side, stunned by how far she'd come in just a week. She wasn't the soft, pink-obsessed girl they once knew.
Ariel had changed.
She was still beautiful.
But now, she was dangerous too.
And when she wasn't in the gym, she was in the backyard with the guards. Practicing how to shoot. Learning to aim. To breathe.
To kill, if she had to.
She had begged them to teach her until they finally agreed. Her fingers still bore faint bruises from the first time she pulled a trigger.
But she didn't care.
Pain made her stronger.
And strength was all she had left.
She threw one final punch and stepped back, chest heaving. Wiping her face, she reached for her phone. Her fingers hovered over one name.
Simon.
She hadn't tried again since that day at his office.
But something in her gut whispered: Try one last time.
Maybe he'd pick up.
Maybe he knew where Alex was.
She tapped Call.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
Her throat tightened, fingers curling around the phone like a lifeline.
Where are they?
Her thoughts drifted. Simon's office. His absence. Fiona's strange behavior. Everything felt off.
She bit her lip and lowered the phone.
She missed Alex.
But more than that, she was worried. Deep in her bones, she knew something wasn't right.
And she was right.
---
Somewhere in a dark, cold warehouse...
Simon was no longer the arrogant man who thought the world bowed at his feet. His face was swollen, lips cracked. His suit was ripped, stained in places with dried blood. He hung loosely by his wrists, chained to a steel beam.
Alex stood just a few feet away.
Dressed in black.
Silent.
Still.
Like a shadow of vengeance.
He hadn't spoken in over an hour.
Just watched.
The same way he had for the past seven days.
Every morning. Every night.
Simon woke to those same eyes, cold, unforgiving, merciless.
And finally, today…
Alex moved.
He stepped forward.
"I was going to let you go," he said calmly, his voice echoing across the concrete walls. It sent chills through the room.
"I was on my way to see her."
Simon flinched. He already knew who her meant.
"But then… she called you," Alex said, his jaw tightening. "After everything you did to her. She called you."
He let that hang like a death sentence.
Simon coughed, trying to speak.
Alex shook his head slowly. "You humiliated her. Mocked her. Made her cry."
His voice dropped. "And she still tried to reason with you."
He stepped closer, close enough for Simon to smell the sharp mix of leather and cologne.
"She was better to you than you ever deserved."
Simon's voice came out hoarse. "What… do you want from me?"
Alex stared at him. Flat. Emotionless.
"Nothing."
He turned to the door.
Paused.
"Oh," he added coolly. "I released a few things about you. Just enough to make a crack in your perfect image. The rest?"
He smiled darkly.
"Still deciding."
And with that, he walked out.
The slam of the heavy door behind him was the loudest sound Simon had heard in days.
---
Back at the mansion...
Ariel stood by the window in her black gym outfit, watching the garden sway in the wind. Her heart ached, but her spine stayed straight.
Alex might never come back.
But she wouldn't crumble again.
She wouldn't cry.
She had become her own shield now.
Still…
Her fingers hovered over his name.
Call him, her heart whispered again.
But she didn't.
She just stood there, staring out the window, eyes clouded with worry and something colder.
Resolve.
Then she caught her reflection in the glass.
The girl staring back wasn't soft.
She was sculpted from grief.
Shaped by silence.
Armed with fury.
She would find him.
Even if it meant burning the world to the ground.