Someone grabbed me from behind.
Not him—
not the terrifyingly beautiful stranger who'd dragged me into this nightmare.
This grip was different. Rough.
Fingers digging into my shoulder so hard I gasped.
"E-Elara—!"
Ren's voice cracked—small, terrified, pleading.
"Papa Adrian, help!"
Papa… Adrian?
The name slammed into me, but I didn't have time to react.
I twisted, trying to see who had me, but all I caught was a stranger's silhouette—dark clothes, a mask, the glint of metal in their hand—
A gun.
A gun was pressed against my ribs.
My breath evaporated.
I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over it, smothering the sound before it was even born.
My pulse slammed in my throat so violently it hurt.
Adrian spun toward me instantly.
The look on his face—
If earlier he'd been cold, controlled, deadly calm…
Now he looked murderous.
Like the kind of man whose name people whisper about in warning.
Like he'd kill ten people without blinking if anyone hurt me.
No—
Not me.
The me he thought I was.
The me I supposedly used to be.
"Let her go," Adrian said softly.
His voice was almost gentle—almost.
But beneath it I heard steel.
And something else—
Fear.
The masked man yanked me backward, dragging me out of Adrian's reach. My feet slipped on the wet pavement.
Adrian took a step forward—
instantly, dangerously—
but froze the second the gun dug harder into my ribs.
Ren screamed louder.
"Papa Adrian! Don't let them take her again!"
Again?
The word shattered something in Adrian's expression.
"Move an inch," the masked man hissed, "and I'll—"
He didn't get to finish.
Adrian crossed the distance like gravity didn't matter.
One second he was a few steps away—
the next he was on us, a blur of black and fury.
The man holding me jerked me to the side, trying to pull me away as he raised the gun.
My heart stopped—
The gun clicked.
But the shot never came.
Adrian slammed the man into the wall with such force the concrete cracked.
The man's grip slipped.
I stumbled forward—
and Adrian caught me before I hit the ground.
One arm snapped around my waist, pulling me against him.
For a moment—
just a moment—
I felt his breath against my neck.
Warm. Dangerous.
Shaking.
He was shaking.
"You're alright," he murmured, voice raw.
His fingers dug into my hip like he needed the reassurance I was real.
I jerked away from him on instinct, chest heaving, lungs burning.
"What the hell is going on?!" My voice cracked in panic.
"Who are these people? Why are they chasing you? And why—why did Ren call you—"
Adrian gave a hollow, broken laugh.
"Elara," he said gently.
Too gently.
"Not here. We have to move."
"No," I snapped, stepping backward. "I'm not going anywhere with—"
Ren crashed into me, tiny arms latching around my waist, sobbing so hard his whole body shook.
"Please," he begged.
"Please don't leave us. Please."
My breath hitched.
God.
The way he said it—
not manipulative, not rehearsed—
just absolute, terrified truth.
I couldn't shove him away. I couldn't even think straight.
His small body pressed desperately against mine, as if afraid I'd vanish again.
Adrian watched my hesitation with a look that felt like it was tearing him open from the inside.
"Elara."
My name sounded… reverent in his mouth.
Like a prayer he no longer believed he deserved to say.
"We can't stay out here. They're not after me."
His eyes met mine.
"They're after you."
My skin prickled. "Why—why me? I don't know anything—"
"You don't," he said quietly.
"But they do."
Something in his voice chilled me more than the rain.
The kid trembled harder, whispering between sobs:
"They want to stop the timeline. They want to stop Mama and Papa. They want to stop—stop—stop—"
Adrian swore under his breath and crouched, gently cupping Ren's face.
"Breathe, little fox," he whispered.
"I have you. I always have you."
Ren clung to his shirt collar.
Something inside me twisted.
Not jealousy.
Not affection.
Something older.
Heavier.
A strange ache behind my ribs—like an echo of something I didn't remember but my body did.
Adrian stood again, shoulders tense, coat dripping.
His expression sharpened, all softness sealed away.
"We're leaving. Now."
He didn't reach for me this time.
He waited.
As if he knew forcing me would shatter something fragile between us.
As if he'd done it before—
and regretted it.
My hands shook. My heart felt too loud.
My life had turned inside out within half an hour.
But Ren's fingers were still tangled in my shirt.
His tears soaked the fabric.
His whole body begged me silently—
Don't leave me.
And Adrian…
God.
The way he was looking at me.
Like he was remembering the last time he watched me walk away.
Like it had destroyed him.
Shadows moved at the far end of the street—more men, more guns.
My breath trembled.
"Fine," I whispered.
Relief punched through Adrian's mask so hard it nearly staggered him.
He grabbed my wrist lightly—gentle, deliberate.
Not like earlier.
This touch asked.
Not demanded.
"Stay close," he murmured, pulling Ren into his other arm.
We ran.
Down alleys slick with rain.
Past shuttered shops and flickering lights.
My lungs screamed. My legs shook.
Adrian's grip never loosened.
I could feel his heartbeat through his sleeve—fast, hard, frantic.
Not fear of enemies.
Fear of losing me.
We ducked into an abandoned underground parking structure.
Adrian shoved open a metal door with his shoulder and guided us into a stairwell.
Ren clung to him like a lifeline.
I kept touching the railing just to stay upright.
Once the door slammed shut behind us and the echo faded, Adrian finally spoke—quiet, breathless, intense.
"Elara."
I swallowed hard.
"I—what?"
He turned toward me fully.
Those silver eyes.
God. They looked like they'd held centuries of grief.
"You're not safe," he said.
"And you won't be—"
He stepped closer.
Close enough for me to see the trembling in his jaw.
"—until you remember who I was to you."
My stomach dropped.
"And who you were to me."
My voice broke.
"Adrian… I don't remember anything—"
"I know."
His breath hit my cheek.
"And that's the most terrifying part."
He lifted a hand—slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal—
and touched my face.
A feather-light brush of his fingers.
But the second he did—
A flash.
Heat.
White-hot, blinding.
A corridor burning.
A hand tearing from mine.
A voice screaming—
"ELARA—RUN!"
I gasped and jerked back, nearly falling.
Adrian caught me, arms wrapping around my waist before I hit the ground.
"Elara—Elara, look at me."
I did.
And everything hurt.
Because his eyes were full of something I didn't know how to hold—
Love.
Regret.
Terror.
Hope.
Punishment.
All of it.
"Elara," he whispered, breath shaking—
not because he feared the men outside,
but because he feared losing me all over again.
"Welcome back."
Upstairs, someone opened the stairwell door—
and whispered:
"Found them."