The Billionaire’s Wedding Trap - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

His face went stone-cold as he locked eyes with me, then glanced down at the unconscious man at his feet. The body lay still, blood already seeping into the dirt. The other two goons were still out there somewhere, but for this suspended moment, there was only silence between us.
I stood frozen, drinking in his appearance. His face was paler, his hair longer than I remembered, but those eyes—they still belonged to the man I'd loved. The man who'd shattered my world.
"James." My voice came out barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"
His jaw tightened. I never thought I'd see him again—certainly not like this. Yet he'd been waiting here, watching for me.
He grabbed my wrist with icy fingers. "We'll talk later, Elle. Right now, we move."
I flinched at his touch but didn't pull away.
He led us deeper into the woods, our footsteps deliberately quiet. We had maybe five minutes before the others found us. The crunch of approaching footsteps would come any second now.
"James," I started, confusion thick in my voice, "where have you—how are you even—"
"Not now," he cut me off sharply. "They're close."
We broke through the tree line into a small clearing where moonlight revealed a motorcycle parked near the trees. He released my wrist and yanked a spare helmet from under the seat.
"Get on." It wasn't a request.
I took an instinctive step back, eyeing the machine warily. "James, please. Just tell me what's happening. Why are you here? What really happened that day?"
His throat worked as he scanned the tree line. But I needed answers—about our wedding day, about why he'd left me standing alone at the altar.
He gripped the helmet tighter. "Because Cain stole everything from me. And I'm going to burn his world to the ground."
"What does that mean?" My brow furrowed.
"I never left you, Elle." His voice was gravel and old wounds. "I was taken from you."
I staggered back. "What?"
His hands clenched into fists, eyes darkening like storm clouds.
"Wedding morning. Got a call from a blocked number saying you'd been in an accident on the way to the church." His words came fast, urgent. "The second I stepped outside to get to the hospital—felt a needle in my neck. Woke up locked in a basement. By the time I got out..." His voice broke. "You were already his."
My mind reeled. Had Cain orchestrated all this? Drugged and kidnapped James just to steal me?
"Tell me everything," I demanded.
"You think I didn't try?" His laugh was bitter. "Every time I got close, Cain was two steps ahead. Made sure I couldn't reach you."
I went rigid as the pieces clicked into place—my father's death, the company takeover, my marriage. All part of Cain's sick game. He'd turned me into his pawn while keeping James imprisoned.
A rustle in the underbrush snapped us both to attention. The hunters were closing in.
James thrust the helmet at me. "Now, Elle!"
With trembling hands, I secured the helmet and climbed on behind him. As the engine roared to life, I wrapped my arms around his waist—the first time I'd held him in over a year.
The motorcycle lurched forward, trees blurring past us as we escaped into the night, leaving behind the ghosts of our past and racing toward an uncertain future.