Dusk Till Dawn

13

Freya

I walked aimlessly through the halls, my footsteps soft against the marble floors, but my mind was louder than ever. Every thought, every worry twisted inside me like a knot I couldn't untangle.

What if I'm wrong? What if this whole thing—Marco, the marriage, Zio Marcus's plans—what if it's all a lie?

I stopped by the window, my eyes tracing the outline of the garden below. The red roses stared back at me, their petals bright, but the thorns—those gleamed sharper than ever. Maybe I've been too blind, too trusting. I've let myself believe that I had some control, some role to play in all of this. But I don't. I never did.

The walls closed in, pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. I don't even know who I'm fighting for anymore. My mind raced, reaching for something, anything to anchor me.

I can't just stand by and hope things work out. I need to be smarter than that. If everything falls apart—and deep down, I know it might—what's my way out? How do I survive this?

Plan B, the words whispered to me like a secret.

I need a plan. One that isn't tied to anyone else. Not Marco, not Zio Marcus, not anyone. Something that'll keep me safe if this all goes to hell. Because it might. And when it does, I'll need to be ready.

I pulled away from the window, my pulse quickening. My feet carried me swiftly down the hall, my mind already working through the details. I needed to be careful—Marco couldn't know. No one could know.

When I reached my room, I closed the door softly behind me, leaning against it for a moment to catch my breath. My eyes swept over the space: the neatly made bed, the wardrobe in the corner, the dresser. Everything looked as it always did, but it all felt wrong now, like a stage set for a life I wasn't sure I wanted to play anymore.

I walked to the wardrobe, opening it carefully, my fingers trembling slightly as I pulled out a small duffel bag from the back. I had never packed a bag like this before—one for escape, for running. The thought sent a chill down my spine, but I couldn't hesitate. This was survival.

I grabbed clothes first—simple, dark things I could move easily in. Practical. Not the dresses I had gotten used to wearing, the ones Marco liked seeing me in. No, this wasn't about impressing anyone. This was about being ready for the worst.

Next, I went to the dresser and pulled out a few small items: my ID, some cash I had hidden away, a passport. I stuffed them into a side pocket of the bag. My hands moved quickly, my breath coming faster now. It felt surreal, packing up pieces of my life like this. A plan B.

I glanced around the room, searching for anything else I might need. My phone was on the nightstand, and I grabbed it, slipping it into the bag as well. But I knew I couldn't trust it, not entirely. They could track me with it.

A small notebook and pen followed, tucked into the front zipper. If I had to go off the grid, if I had to leave in a hurry, I'd need a way to leave myself reminders, to remember where I came from, or where I was going.

My gaze settled on the mirror across from me, and for a moment, I didn't recognize the woman staring back. Her eyes were wide, frantic, like she was already running from something. I swallowed hard and zipped the bag shut.

This was it. My plan B.

I set the bag in the closet, hidden behind a row of dresses. If the time ever came, if everything fell apart, I'd be ready. But as I stepped back, the weight of it all pressed down on me. I didn't want to run.

But I might have to.

I shoved the bag deeper into the closet, pushing it behind a row of hanging dresses just as I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. My heart pounded in my chest. Marco. I closed the closet door as calmly as I could, forcing my hands to stop trembling. I couldn't let him know. I couldn't let him see.