Chapter 18%
Brent zipped the last of his luggage shut, his heart pounding with something he hadn’t felt in a long time–hope.
He glanced at the letters stacked on the desk beside him–handwritten, raw, vulnerable. Each one poured from the depths of a guilt–ridden heart desperate to make things right.”
He’d bought gifts too–simple things this time. Not diamonds or designer handbags, but things Layla would actually like. A first–edition of her favorite novel. A tiny potted daisy because she once said it reminded her of her mother. A warm, soft scarf because he remembered how she used to get cold so easily.
He smiled faintly. Just a few more hours and he’d be on that plane back to her. Back to Layla./
But just as he was stepping out of the front door, a voice called out.”
“Brent! Wait!”
He froze.
Celeste ran up to him, her eyes wide and red, like she hadn’t slept. “Don’t go yet, please… I–I met him. The man you arranged for me.” Brent’s shoulders tensed. “And?”
“He’s… kind. Really kind,” she admitted. “Gentle. Polite. But… I don’t think I can do it, Brent. I don’t think I can marry someone else like this.”
“Yes, you can,” Brent said firmly, refusing to meet her eyes. “You can, and you should.“>
“But I don’t love him!” she cried.
“You didn’t love me either,” Brent replied, cold. “You just needed someone to hold onto.”
Celeste winced. “That’s not true.”
“It is.” He finally turned to her, his voice weary. “But I’m not angry anymore. Just tired. I’ve already spoken with him. He understands what you’ve been through. And I told him if he ever hurt you, I’d bury him.”
Celeste’s tears spilled again, but Brent didn’t flinch this time.
“I don’t want to be your burden anymore, Celeste,” he said. “You need to live your life. So do I.”
Right then, a sleek black car pulled into the driveway. A tall man in a grey suit stepped out–dignified, clean–cut, with kind eyes.
He nodded at Brent. “I’m here for Miss Celeste.”
Brent stepped aside. “She’s ready.”
Celeste shook her head in silent protest, but the bodyguard gently took her hand and guided her toward the car. She sobbed as the stranger opened the door for her.
Brent watched silently.
When the car drove away, he finally exhaled.”
The airport was quiet as he walked through the VIP terminal. He clutched the envelope of letters tighter in his hand. He had rehearsed the words in his head over and over.
Layla, I’m sorry. I was a coward. But I’m not running anymore.
He smiled to himself as he boarded the plane.
He was ready to fight for her.
Even if he had to compete with Zack, he’d do it. Hell, if Layla wanted the whole world laid at her feet, he’d crawl on his knees to gather it. But just as he was placing his bag in the overhead compartment, a hand clamped over his mouth.
Another hand struck the side of his neck.
Everything went dark.
When Brent woke up, he was tied to a chair in a dim, dusty warehouse. His head throbbed. His lip was busted. The air smelled like rust and gasoline.
“What the hell…” he groaned.
Then the first blow landed. A sharp slap across the face.
Brent’s head snapped to the side. Blood pooled in his mouth. Before he could even react, a whip lashed across his chest, tearing through his shirt and skin. He gritted his teeth, pain flaring white behind his eyes.
“Why?” he rasped. “Who are you?”
A man stepped into the light, tall and lean, his eyes filled with ice–cold hatred.}]
“For everything you did to Layla,” the man said simply.
Brent’s stomach dropped.
Lucas. Of course.
Another whip.
Another slap.
Another kick to his ribs.
He stopped counting after the fifth strike. His breath came in shallow gasps. Every inch of his body screamed.}
But Brent didn’t scream.§
He didn’t beg. He didn’t ask them to stop.
Instead, he laughed. A bitter, broken chuckle.
Lucas stepped closer, confused. “You think this is funny?”
Brent looked up through swollen eyes, blood dripping from his jaw.
“No,” he whispered. “But if this… if this is what it takes for Layla to find peace…. if hurting me helps her sleep at night again, then go ahead.”
Another hit landed. His body slumped forward, but he kept talking.
“I deserve it,” he murmured. “I ignored her. I hurt her. I let Celeste destroy everything she and I had… and she still stayed. She still hoped. And I killed that hope.”
Lucas didn’t respond.
Brent lifted his head again, barely able to keep his eyes open. “So if this is my punishment… if this will help make it up to her… then I’ll take it.”
He let his head fall back and closed his eyes.
All he saw was her.
Layla–smiling under the sunlight, laughing in the rain, sleeping with her hand curled beside her cheek. He’d carry every scar, every bruise, every broken bone-
If it meant she might smile again.”
For real.
Even if it wasn’t for him.
Even if it was for someone else.
