Chapter 8

• Jake****
• The silence was suffocating, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner. My pulse thundered in my ears as I stared at Belle, her fragile frame bathed in the dim light of the room. She looked so small, her face pale and her eyes distant, as if she were lost in a labyrinth of thoughts I couldn’t reach.
• I wanted to bridge the chasm between us, to find the words that would assure her. But what could I say? That I was sorry? That it wasn’t my fault? She wouldn’t believe me—not now. Not after what she’d seen.
• The blood on my hands felt like an indictment, staining more than my skin. It was a grotesque reminder of the lines I’d crossed, the rules I’d shattered, all in the name of protecting her. But had I protected her, really? Or had I only dragged her deeper into my world of chaos?
• “Rest,” I said finally, my voice softer than I’d intended. “You’ve been through enough. Let me handle this.”
• Her lips parted as if to argue, but no words came. Instead, she stared at me, her wide eyes filled with a question she didn’t dare ask. Then, slowly, she closed them, retreating to a place where she didn’t have to face me—or the truth.
• A weight settled on my chest, heavy and unrelenting. I needed to fix this. But how could I fix something that was shattered beyond recognition?
• The sound of Elliot’s footsteps echoed faintly from the hallway, grounding me in the moment. I turned as he reappeared in the doorway, his expression grim.
• “He’s secure,” Elliot said, his tone clipped. “Barely hanging on, but alive. What’s the plan?”
• My thoughts churned, tangled between the need to protect Belle and the harsh reality of what Samuel’s survival might mean. I had to act decisively. “Keep him alive for now, but don’t stop. I want him screaming,” I said coldly, my voice edged with a steel that surprised even me. “And find out how he got to my room when he was locked in the basement. Punish the guards responsible for this breach.” That bastard is the reason for all the pain my Belle lives in. And I won't rest until he pays for it all with his blood.
• Elliot’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, his gaze lingering. “And Belle? Does she have her memories back yet?” And I will, she doesn't remember anything just yet; she needs to heal physically and mentally before the trauma of her life comes flooding back. She deserves peace and happiness, not more suffering.
• “No,” I admitted, the word tasting bitter. “Not yet.” My voice softened as I added, “She just needs time.”
• He studied me for a moment longer, then left without another word. His unspoken judgment hung in the air, but I pushed it aside. There was no room for doubt, not now.
• I turned back to Belle. Her breathing had evened out, but her face was still etched with lines of worry, even in sleep. Seeing her like this—so vulnerable, yet enduring—ignited something deep within me. She wasn’t broken. Not entirely. There was still strength in her, buried beneath the fear. I just needed to help her find it again.
• Sitting on the edge of the bed, I hesitated before reaching out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her skin was soft beneath my fingers, her warmth a quiet reassurance that she was still here, still fighting in her own way. Her features softened slightly at my touch, though her restlessness remained.
• “I’m sorry, Belle,” I whispered, the words heavier than I expected. Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, a silent promise that I’d find a way to make things right.
• But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t stop myself. The need to feel closer to her, to remind myself that she was still mine, burned inside me. I leaned in, brushing another kiss against her temple, letting my lips linger. Her scent was intoxicating—a mix of something floral and uniquely her.
• Belle stirred, her lashes fluttering open. She blinked up at me, her eyes glassy but searching. “Jake?” she murmured, her voice hoarse.
• I didn’t pull back. Instead, I let my forehead rest against hers, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
• She frowned, her hand moving to her temple. “I don’t feel safe,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I feel... broken. Like pieces of me are missing, and I can’t put them back together.”
• Her words struck me like a blow. “You’re not broken,” I said, gripping her hand in mine. “You’re here, with me. We’ll figure this out together.”
• Her tears brimmed, spilling over as her voice wavered. “I keep seeing things. Flashes of someone... hurting me. I don’t know who, or why, but it’s there. Always there, like a shadow I can’t escape.”
• "Who was that man lying on the ground earlier?" she asks, her eyes searching mine for answers. I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal, but finally replied, "He was a stranger who tried to hurt you. But you're safe now; I won't let anyone harm you." Her grip on my hand tightened as she whispered, "Is he the reason why I lost my memories and hurt so badly?" I took a deep breath before answering, "Yes, he's the reason." I said honestly, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. "He's gone now; you're safe with me." Anger simmered beneath my skin, but I pushed it down. She needed comfort, not rage. I cupped her face in both hands, my thumbs brushing away her tears. “No one’s going to hurt you again,” I promised, my voice fierce yet tender. “Not while I’m here.”
• She shook her head slowly. “You don’t understand. I don’t just see it—I feel it. Every time I try to remember, it’s like my head is going to explode. The pain... it’s unbearable. Like someone’s trying to keep me from knowing the truth.”
• I kissed her then, softly, tenderly. It wasn’t a kiss meant to ignite passion but to soothe, to anchor her. Her lips trembled beneath mine, but she didn’t pull away.
• When I drew back, I rested my forehead against hers again. “Then don’t force it,” I murmured. “Don’t hurt yourself trying to remember something that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that you’re here, with me. That you’re safe.”
• She looked at me for a long moment, her tears glistening in the dim light. “But why can't I just remember? Why does it feel like there's a barrier in my mind, blocking me from the truth?" I held her gaze, feeling the weight of her pain. "Sometimes our minds protect us from things that are too difficult to face all at once. It's okay to take your time, to heal at your own pace."
• Belle stared at me, her expression softening as she seemed to absorb my words. "I want to remember our time together and the love we shared, even if it hurts."
• “You will,” I said firmly, brushing my lips against her knuckles. “I swear it. Whatever it takes, Belle, I’ll make it happen. You’ll find yourself again.”
• Her gaze softened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of trust. “Promise me,” she said, her voice breaking. “Promise me you’ll help me remember... when I’m ready.”
• “I promise,” I said, my voice barely audible.
• Her head rested against my chest, her breathing uneven but calmer now. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let her guard down, trusting me to hold her together.
• But our peace broke from the sound of a loud crash echoed from downstairs, shattering the fragile calm. I froze, my body tensing. Belle’s eyes snapped open, wide with fear.
• “Stay here,” I said sharply, rising to my feet. Grabbing the gun from the bedside table, I scanned the shadows outside the room. The air felt heavier, the darkness more oppressive.
• “Jake,” Belle whispered, her voice trembling. “What’s happening?” I didn’t answer. My focus was on the hallway, where faint footsteps sent a chill down my spine.
• Someone had broken into the estate.
• Tightening my grip on the gun, I stepped forward, my heart pounding. Whoever had come for us wasn’t leaving alive.