His Captive Bride's Fight For Freedom

She stopped crying. Her eyes turned to ice. It wasn't that she wasn't scared anymore — it was that her fear had peaked and turned into a cold, numbing clarity. Her body was still shaking, but her mind was clear.

As Graham leaned in to kiss her again, she twisted her head violently and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

She bit down with all her strength, the salty, metallic taste of blood flooding her mouth. The taste almost made her gag, but she didn't let go.

A muffled grunt of pain escaped him. His grip on her loosened for a fraction of a second.

She drove her knee up, hard, into his groin.

His body jackknifed in pain, but when he looked at her, his gray eyes burned not with retreat, but with a more dangerous fire of rage and conquest. That look sent a chill through her, but she didn't have time to be afraid.

She scrambled out from under him, crawling desperately toward the door, clawing at the keypad, the complex array of buttons a symbol of her hopelessness. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and every wrong key she pressed made her heart sink deeper. She thought she might really not make it out.

He recovered faster than she could have imagined. His hand shot out, clamping around her ankle.

She looked back. A cruel smile touched his lips. "Trying to run?"

Despair surged from her stomach, but then her eyes landed on the gift box on the console table — solid wood, heavy. One thought shot through her mind: grab it, swing it.

She grabbed it, swinging it with all her might at the hand crushing her ankle.

He hadn't expected such a feral attack. The corner of the box connected with the back of his hand with a sickening crunch. A sharp, searing pain shot up his arm, and he released her.

Cailin scrambled to her feet. This time, she ignored the electronic lock. Her eyes landed on the small, red lever next to the doorframe. The fire alarm.

She yanked it down.

A deafening, piercing siren shattered the silence, shrieking through the entire floor.

Graham's face contorted. The blaring noise and the drug's effects felt like a spike being driven into his skull.

Cailin knew this was her last chance. Instead of running for the door, she did the opposite. She sprinted toward the floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the room. She didn't know why she ran that way. Maybe to create distance. Maybe to find a weapon. All she knew was that she couldn't let him touch her again.

Graham thought she was going to jump. A knot of ice formed in his gut as he lunged toward her.

But she only snatched a heavy, brass statue from a side table. She spun around to face him, her eyes blazing like a cornered wolf.

"Don't come near me!" she rasped, her voice raw but absolute. Her hand holding the statue was shaking, but she didn't lower it. If he came one step closer, she would swing.

Through the shrieking alarm, they could hear the frantic pounding of feet and muffled shouts from the hallway.

Graham knew security would break down the door any second. For the first time, he truly looked at her—disheveled, clothes torn, but with eyes so bright they seemed to burn.

He crooked a finger at her, his voice a near-whisper.

"I'll remember you."

Then, he turned, pulled open a section of the bookshelf that was a hidden door, and vanished into the darkness behind it.

Cailin stared, stunned. A secret door. Her mind went blank for several seconds. Then the alarm and the sound of security slamming against the door pulled her back to reality. She lowered the statue, her arms dropping limp to her sides, and then she collapsed like a string had been cut.

At that same moment, the suite door burst open. The room was flooded with light.

Security guards froze, taking in the scene: Cailin, clothes in tatters, holding a brass statue like a weapon.

The statue slipped from her numb fingers, clattering onto the marble floor. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed.

Surrounded by the hotel manager and security, their questions a meaningless buzz in her ears, she trembled uncontrollably. She said nothing. She just clutched the torn pieces of her uniform to her chest. She didn't want to say a word. She just wanted to disappear. She knew it was useless to tell the truth — no one would believe a temp worker. So she kept her mouth shut and waited for them to let her go.