His Dark Embrace, Her Redeeming Love

Ember POV: The air in the banquet hall was entirely gone. My lungs burned. I spun around, pushing off my good foot, and rushed toward the side corridor. Loud, shrill laughter chased me. Karyn and her friends were howling behind my back. The sound wrapped around my ankles like venomous snakes, trying to drag me down. I reached the heavy carved wooden doors at the end of the hall. I threw my weight against them and stumbled into the empty, brightly lit luxury restroom. I slammed the door shut behind me. I grabbed the brass lock and twisted it hard. The sharp click echoed in the silence, finally cutting off the noise of the party. My legs gave out. I slid down the smooth wood of the door, my dress bunching up around me until I hit the freezing tile floor. I dragged air into my lungs in ragged, desperate gasps. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, I looked down at my legs. Deep purple bruises were already blooming on my pale knees. My right ankle was angry and swollen, throbbing with a dull, heavy heat. I pressed both hands hard over my face. My shoulders shook violently. A scream clawed at my throat, but I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I would not make a sound. When I was a child, my father locked me in the pitch-black basement for a full day every time I cried. Crying meant punishment. I lowered my hands and looked at the massive mirror above the sinks. The woman looking back at me was a wreck. The hem of the pure white silk dress was smeared with gray dust and dirt from the marble floor. I stared into my own eyes. The pathetic vulnerability and the shattered heartbreak slowly bled out of my gaze. The warmth died. What replaced it was a cold, absolute finality. My hands were still trembling slightly as I grabbed my cheap clutch off the floor. I unzipped it and pulled out my old, cracked phone. I unlocked the screen. My thumb swiped rapidly through the contacts list, scrolling past all the fake, glittering names of the socialites I had memorized for Chace. I scrolled all the way to the bottom. I stopped at the blocked numbers list. I took a deep breath. I pressed unblock. A number with no saved name appeared on the screen. It was a number that represented the ultimate taboo in the New York underground. Keith Mosley. The name exploded in my head, bringing with it a heavy, terrifying pressure. My mind flashed back to a violent rainstorm three years ago. I was trapped in a dead-end alley, surrounded. A man in a tailored suit stepped out of the shadows. He held a black umbrella over my head and handed me a clean, dry handkerchief. He didn't ask for anything. He just destroyed the men threatening me and walked away. I blocked his number the next day out of pure terror of his mafia ties. Now, the weight of my father’s gambling debt and the threat to my mother’s grave pressed down on my spine like concrete blocks. I stopped hesitating. I opened the text message app. My fingers flew across the cracked glass. *I am ready to pay my debt.* Those eight words drained every ounce of strength I had left in my body. My thumb hovered over the send button. I stared at the little green arrow. For two seconds, the ghost of my past with Chace held me back. Then, I pressed down hard. The screen flashed *Delivered*. My heart completely stopped beating. I stared unblinking at the bright screen. The restroom was dead silent. The only sound was a slow drip from the gold faucet into the porcelain sink. One second. Two seconds. On the third second, the phone buzzed violently in my palm. The harsh notification chime made me jump. I sucked in a sharp breath. My fingers were stiff as I tapped the unread message. There were only four words on the screen. They radiated an overwhelming, suffocating dominance that left no room for negotiation. *The price is marriage.* The words hit my brain like a sledgehammer. I squeezed my eyes shut. The image of Chace slipping the emerald ring onto Karyn’s finger burned behind my eyelids. When I opened my eyes again, the last trace of fear was gone. There was only a reckless, destructive madness left. This wasn't a contract to sell my body. This was my entry ticket to burn Chace's world to the ground. I grabbed the edge of the marble sink and hauled myself to my feet. I turned the cold water handle. I cupped the freezing water in my hands and splashed it directly onto my face. Ice-cold drops slid down my chin and dripped onto my collarbone. I looked at the reborn woman in the mirror. The corners of my mouth curled up into a slow, merciless smirk. "This isn't a price. This is my knife."