The deadline

Jalen’s POV

The moment Marian left my office, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. I stood frozen behind my desk, staring at the closed door as if it might swing open again at any second. My breath came shallow and tight, my legs gave out as I dropped into my chair, elbows braced on the polished wood, and dragged both hands down my face.

She wasn’t bluffing.

After everything I had seen during our marriage—her cruelty, the manipulation, and the way she destroyed anything that stood in her path, the scariest was what she did to Fiona before she was arrested—I knew exactly what Marian was capable of, she was a monster. And now she had set her sights on Fiona again.

My pulse hammered against my ribs. I reached for my phone with unsteady fingers and called mason, he was my long time private investigator.

Mason answered on the first ring.

“Mason speaking.”

“I need eyes on Fiona. Twenty-four hours a day.”

He paused briefly before speaking again. “Something happened?”

“Marian is out and she’s aiming for Fiona again.”

The silence on the other end grew heavy, weighted with understanding.

“Understood. I’ll have her on full protection”

“I want someone around her without her knowing. Close enough to intervene, invisible enough that she doesn’t feel stalked.”

“I’ll handle it personally.”

“I trust you, mason.”

I ended the call and immediately dialed Fiona but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Same result. My thumb hovered over the screen before I typed out a message.

“Bunny, please call me. It’s urgent.”

I could tell that she saw the messages but she didn’t respond.

I sent another. “This can’t wait.”

Hours dragged by. Meetings blurred into one another. I kept checking my phone obsessively—during conference calls, over untouched lunch, in the back of the car on the way to the next obligation. Still Nothing.

By midnight I had sent more than twenty messages. Still nothing.

The next morning, my phone vibrated on the nightstand. My stomach plummeted when Marian’s name flashed across the screen.

I opened the text.

Two days. That’s all you’re getting. Choose your money or your little girlfriend. Tick-tock.

A photo followed: Fiona walking out of campus, she seemed completely unaware. The timestamp was recent.

Ice flooded my veins.

I called Mason before I’d even finished reading.

He picked up instantly. “I’ve got something.”

“What?”

“My team tracked Marian. She hired a man named Douglas—the same one who used to handle wet work for high-profile clients.”

My jaw clenched so tightly it ached. “What do we do?”

Mason hesitated, something he rarely did. “We need to wait for Marian’s first strike.”

I shot to my feet and began pacing. “Wait? Fiona could be in immediate danger.”

“I know. But we don’t have her location yet. If we move too soon, Marian might vanish. We need as much evidence.”

I wanted to argue, to scream, to tear the city apart until I found her. Instead I stared at Fiona’s contact photo—her bright smile, the one that had once made my world feel lighter.

“We wait for her to make a move,” Mason continued, voice steady as steel. “Then we crush her.”

I hated every word. But he was right. Rushing in blind would only give Marian another chance to disappear and regroup.

Still, as the call ended, I whispered into the empty room, “Please answer, Bunny. God, please just answer the damn call.”

Fiona’s POV

It was a very beautiful day, school was slowly coming to the end of the session and I just couldn’t wait, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones—from the relentless emotional siege lately.

Jalen wouldn’t stop calling, dropping voicemails, and text after text. My phone had become a constant source of dread. Every buzz felt like another crack in my fragile heart I’d tried to build around my heart.

I was tired of the push and pull. Tired of feeling like I was never enough to make him stay when it mattered.

As I left campus that afternoon, Paris left before me, my phone vibrated again. I didn’t need to check. I already knew it was Jalen again. If I counted, this was his fifty-seventh unread message.

I rolled my eyes, swiped the notifications away without reading them, and slipped in my earbuds. Music flooded my senses, dulling the noise in my head. The cool afternoon air brushed against my skin as I joined the stream of students heading toward the bus stop. Cars hummed past. Everything felt ordinary.

Until it wasn’t.

A large black van screeched to a halt beside me. The side door flew open with violent force. Two men surged out.

My eyes widened. “What—”

One wrapped a powerful arm around my waist. The other clamped a rough hand over my mouth. My scream died against his palm.

Panic detonated inside me. I kicked, twisted, and bit down hard on the fingers covering my lips. The man cursed viciously, but they were far stronger. In seconds they hauled me into the van. The door slammed shut. Tires squealed as the vehicle shot forward.

I thrashed wildly, heart hammering against my ribs. One of the men struck me hard across the head with something solid. Pain exploded behind my eyes. The world blurred, then disappeared into darkness.

When I regained consciousness, my head throbbed with vicious intensity. For several disoriented moments I couldn’t remember where I was or why everything hurt—my neck, my shoulders, my wrists and knees. Memories of the first incident crashed over me like waves .

This is definitely another kidnapping.

My eyes snapped open, but darkness remained like I was blindfolded. I tried to move and immediately regretted it. My wrists were bound tightly behind my back, my ankles lashed together, and my spine pressed against something cold and unyielding—like a metal pole. The ropes bit into my skin with every shift.

“No,” I whispered, voice cracking.

I had lived this nightmare before, I yanked violently against the restraints. The ropes only dug deeper. My breathing turned rapid and shallow.

“Help!” I screamed but it only echoed uselessly through the space. “Somebody help me!”

I screamed until my throat burned, tears soaking the blindfold. No one was coming. I knew that. But the sound of my own voice felt like the only thing keeping me from shattering completely.

Minutes stretched into what might have been an eternity.

Then—a loud crash came on the door. I felt a bitter hope, at least someone showed up and I’m not just abandoned.

Heavy footsteps approached. Slowly and deliberately. Each one sent chills racing down my spine.

The footsteps stopped directly in front of me.

I held my breath.

A hand cupped my chin—surprisingly gentle. Fingers slid beneath my jaw and tilted my face upward. The touch was disturbingly intimate.

“Who are you?” I breathed, and a woman’s voice filled the room, smooth as silk and cold as winter steel.

“Hello, darling.”

My blood turned to ice. Every muscle in my body locked in recognition.

I would know that voice anywhere.

“No…” The word slipped out, barely audible.

A soft, familiar laugh echoed around me—the same laugh that had haunted my nightmares for months.

“That’s right,” Marian purred. “I’ve missed you too, Fiona.”