Martin stormed in with guards. His voice echoed: "Alex, step aside!"
Alex stood in front of me, "Stay back, Martin," He said.
Martin glared. "Give me the locket."
I held it tight. I felt heat through the chain.
Alex said, "No."
Martin sneered. "Alex, you want to betray our family."
Alex looked at Martin. "This has nothing to do with betrayal."
"He is not betraying anyone," I said, standing behind Alex
"Elara"
Tears burned my eyes. I stepped forward. "Stop this."
Martin's eyes went icy. "You think you matter, mortal girl? Just because Alex gave you the locket doesn't mean you are worth it. That locket belongs to us and I'm done playing."
Alex's jaw clenched. "I won't let you hurt her, Martin."
The guards took and spoke to them: "Not her."
"Martin, not this time," Alex said, looking at his brother, Martin
They froze.
Martin's voice dropped to a low growl.
"You don't deserve what Father thinks of you, Alex. You're throwing it all away- for her."
Martin stopped, his anger looked cold as steel. Then he gave a low, scary laugh. "Fine. Betray me. But mark my words… next time, she dies."
He walked out, the guards falling behind him. The doors shut, and I stood in a sudden hush
Alex Knelt by my side. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, tears falling. He pulled me close. I felt safe.
He whispered, "I'm sorry."
I buried my head on his chest. My heart hammered.
I realized something: his magic might vanish around me, but his care felt strong and sure.
Outside, the night held the city. Inside, something ended. Something fragile began.
Martin's warning echoed: "Next time… she dies." I squeezed the locket. It pulsed warm and alive.
I knew I stood between two worlds and something much unexpected was about to happen: my small simple life and Alex's big, magical one. I didn't know where I belonged yet but I would decide soon.
I left Alex's mansion with his words echoing in my mind: "Go home. Be safe. I'll try to figure out why you stopped my magic. "His calm, confident voice was the reminder I belonged in both his world and mine, lived in my heart. Still, I felt uneasy.
Back in my small studio that morning. I stared at the blank canvas. I tried to paint, but every stroke blurred. Thoughts of Alex, of his shiny suit, of the locket at my throat, filled me. My world has shifted overnight, and I couldn't settle.
My phone buzzed on the table. It was Dad calling from New York. I paused, my hand hovering over the screen.
Last time I picked up, he asked me to come back. This time, I knew I wouldn't. I tapped "Decline" and set it face down, heart pounding.
"Hi, Dad."
"Hi, sweetheart. Are you okay?"
I forced a smile that only he could have heard. "I'm fine, Dad. Busy with my art."
"Yes, Dad, I'm doing well and I'm working on a lot of things," I said quickly to avoid his further questions.
"Promise me…?" His voice cracked.
"I promise," I said softly. "I'm happy here. Working on big things. I want to stay."
"I hope you are doing well. You have to remember to get enough rest and stop stressing," My dad said
"I do get enough rest, Dad, and I'm really happy with my life."
There was a pause. He exhaled. "Okay. I trust you."
I said, "Love you." Then ended the call, heart pounding.
I was alone at the moment, and my studio felt empty
Later that evening, rain fell down the window. My phone stayed silent. But something felt wrong – I sensed eyes watching me. So many thoughts filled my head. Maybe I should text Alex, I wondered, but then I remembered what he told me: "I'm gonna figure it out, just be safe."
So I waited. My worry wouldn't let me sleep peacefully.
In my apartment, it was so silent. I ran to the door when I heard a sudden knock. Early. Too early. Fear erupted inside me.
"Elara?" The guard's voice was hushed.
I flinched back. "Who is it?"
The doorknob rattled. I backed away, the locket hitting hard against me. My chest tightened.
Hands broke the lock. Men in dark clothes barged in on two of them. No words. They grabbed me. I screamed.
Then came the blow to the head. Darkness swallowed me.
In Beverly Hills, Alex pressed his hand onto his big wooden desk. His mansion was silent, except for the quiet hum of the city outside. He stared at reports that read: "Magic disruption," "Locket functions," and "Elara Vaughn." He looked closely at old books, searching for answers. But he found no clues. But no break came.
His phone rang: one ring, two. He picked it up.
"We have your artist friend," the gravelly voice said.
He froze. Then the voice: "Come alone. One hour." The line cut out.
Silence echoed. The weight of the world pressed on him. He shut the case on Elara's file and ran both hands through dark hair.
"This is it", he thought. "I failed to protect her".
He grabbed his fancy watch, his leather gloves, and a small knife he'd tucked away in his suit. Out in the garage, we went in his black Bentley car, the drive home felt tense, and the city lights passed his dark car windows. He thought only of me, the hostage.
I woke in darkness. Cold. My blonde hair was tangled. My lips are dry. I tried to move; my arms wouldn't obey. I was tied to a chair. I heard dripping water. The air smelled of salt and rust.
Fluorescent lights flickered on. I blinked. I saw metal hooks above me. I saw three men in expensive suits. One's face was Dmitri Martin's guard. Martin stood in a dark corner, adjusting his tie.
My lip trembled. I wanted to speak, but I felt pain.
Martin smiled and stepped forward. He moved the light so it glinted off Dmitri's gun. Elara, the chair creaked beneath me. Panic flooded.
On the other side of the city, Alex drove fast through empty streets, his car lights cutting through the fog. He pushed the gas pedal harder, thinking I was in one of those cars out there. Gunshots could start any minute. His old training kicked in. He kept watching his phone screen, looking at the camera feed from my apartment and his parking lot, searching for any sign. There was nothing