Chapter 5 - The Safehouse
Instead of sending her home, Damien’s men bundled Ellie into the back of a bulletproof Maybach. Within twenty minutes, they crossed the iron gates of a secluded estate nestled deep in the hills outside the city—a fortress disguised as a sprawling Victorian mansion.
Ellie paced the length of her guest suite, her mind spinning. She had gone to work hoping to make rent for her mother’s medical treatments, and now she was a high-value asset in a transnational underworld conflict.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and Damien stepped inside, having changed out of his blood-stained suit into a crisp black shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing dense, intricate tribal tattoos.
"Your mother’s medical bills at St. Jude's," Damien said without preamble, tossing a manila folder onto the mahogany desk. "Paid in full. Along with a lifetime retainer for your protection."
Ellie stopped pacing, her eyes flashing with defiance. "I’m not a paid hostage, Mr. Moretti. I want to go back to my life."
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"Your old life ended the moment Vance pointed a gun at you," Damien replied, stepping closer, closing the distance between them until Ellie could feel the intense heat radiating off him. "The Vanguard knows you identified their poison. They’re hunting everyone connected to that dinner. Right now, the only safe place on this continent is under my roof."
Ellie swallowed hard, knowing he was right. But staying here, breathing the same air as this ruthless, magnetic mob boss, felt like dancing on the edge of a live volcano.
