Victoria's wrists burned where Baron Derek had gripped her. The fear still lingered in her chest, but Damien's sudden appearance made her breathe again.
"What do you think you're doing?" Damien's voice cracked like thunder through the courtyard.
Derek's smug face drained of color. "Oh p-pr-prince Damien, what are you doing here on this fine evening?" he stammered, his grip loosening.
"Let go of her this instant, Baron Derek." Damien's finger pointed sharply downward. In an instant Derek's legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the cobblestones as though an invisible hand had yanked him down.
"If you so much as look at her again," Damien hissed, stepping forward, his eyes cold as steel, "it will be your last day."
The deathly glare he shot sent Derek scrambling backwards, fear breaking his pride. Damien didn't bother to look at him again. His attention was on Victoria. He rushed forward, hands outstretched.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice no longer sharp but full of worry.
Victoria nodded quickly, though her heart was still pounding. "Yeah… thank goodness you came in time. Who knows what could have happened to me?"
Without thinking, she fell into his arms, and Damien embraced her tightly. Their hug lingered, a shared warmth in a world that had given her nothing but cold chains and harsher words. She wanted to hold on forever, but then—
"Damien!" The sharp voice of his mother echoed across the stone walls of the palace grounds.
He stiffened, reluctant to let go, then slowly pulled back. "Sorry… I have to go." His eyes searched hers, as if he wanted to say more, but duty called him away.
She forced a smile. "Go. Before she comes here herself."
He gave her one last look, then ran off. Victoria stood alone in the shadows, watching his figure vanish. The moment he was gone, her shoulders sank, and her eyes fell to the iron collar at her neck.
Damien was her best friend, the only light in her dark world, but he was also the prince. And she? She was nothing more than a slave, one who hadn't even been bought officially. She belonged to the palace dungeons, kept in chains, free only when Damien secretly called her out to the gardens.
Every day he visited, and every day she told herself it was enough. But tonight, as Baron Derek's leering face replayed in her mind, she realized it wasn't. If Damien hadn't arrived…
"I can't stay here any longer," she whispered to herself.
—
That night, back in the prison cell, she sat awake long after the guards' footsteps faded. Her hands trembled, but her mind was steady. She had been planning this moment for weeks in secret, gathering scraps of cloth, learning the guards' rotations when Damien wasn't with her.
The small iron pin Damien had once left behind in the gardens, a trinket from his tunic, had become her key. She pressed it into the lock of her chains, biting her lip until she tasted blood. With a final twist—click. The shackle fell away.
Her heart thundered. She pressed herself against the cold wall, listening. Silence. Only the faint sound of crickets outside.
Step by step, she crept through the dim corridors, every shadow a threat, every creak of wood a scream. Her breath caught as she neared the outer door. She could almost feel the night air brushing her face, the promise of freedom at her fingertips.
She slipped past the final gate just as a cloud drifted across the moon, cloaking her in darkness.
Freedom.
She ran.
—
The next morning, Damien returned to the dungeons, a small basket of food in hand like he always brought for her. His steps were light, a smile tugging at his lips. He couldn't wait to tell her he had stood up to Baron Derek for her—that she was safe, always safe when he was near.
"Victoria," he called softly as he approached her cell. "I brought you fresh bread today, you'll love—"
He stopped.
The cell door stood open. Chains lay abandoned on the floor. The bed of straw was empty.
"Victoria?" His voice cracked, louder this time, echoing off the stone.
Silence.
The food slipped from his hand, bread tumbling across the floor.
She was gone.