Fear was an icy hand, wrapped tightly around Seraphina’s throat. Her mind was a blank canvas of terror, her only thought: They’re back.
She instinctively tried to scramble deeper into the cave, but the searing pain and profound weakness in her body made even the slightest movement an ordeal. All she could do was watch, paralyzed, as the figure, silhouetted against the light, walked closer, step by step, as she awaited her final judgment.
However, the person who entered the cave was not one of the leering kidnappers she expected.
It was a middle-aged man in a dark green uniform, his skin weathered and his expression stern. He looked like some kind of official. He held a high-powered flashlight, and when its beam fell upon the disheveled, half-clothed Seraphina huddled in the corner, his sternness was instantly replaced by shock and disbelief.
"My God..." he breathed, immediately averting his gaze and lowering the flashlight beam to the ground. His voice became exceptionally gentle, as if he were afraid of startling her. "Miss... are you alright? Don't be afraid. My name is George. I'm a ranger with the National Park Service."
A park ranger?
The taut wire of Seraphina's nerves slackened slightly, but she remained wary. She clutched the large men's jacket, wrapping it tightly around herself, and said nothing. After such a profound betrayal, she could no longer bring herself to trust anyone easily.
George seemed to understand her fear and defensiveness. He didn't approach any closer, maintaining a safe distance. He continued speaking in a steady, reassuring tone. "We received a report from some locals about unusual vehicle activity and a woman's scream deep in the mountains late last night, so we came to patrol at first light. We found an abandoned van on the mountainside and followed the tracks here. You're safe now, child."
His words were simple and sincere, filled with a paternal concern that managed to find a crack in Seraphina's frozen heart. She looked at him, her tightly clenched lips trembling, but she still couldn't form a single word.
George sighed. He took a clean blanket and a thermos of hot water from his backpack, placing them carefully on the ground a short distance from her. "Have some water to warm up, then wrap yourself in this. Given your condition... I've already radioed the town police and the hospital. They'll be here soon."
With that, he turned and walked out of the cave, thoughtfully leaving her some privacy. "I'll be right outside," he called back. "Just shout if you need anything."
Seraphina was alone again. She looked at the blanket and the thermos on the ground. Her body, finally registering its safety, began to shake uncontrollably. She was no longer a fugitive fighting for her life; she was just a girl, battered and deeply traumatized.
She slowly crawled over and picked up the thick blanket, wrapping it around herself again and again, as if it were the only thing that could ward off the chill that emanated from her very bones. She twisted open the thermos. The warm water trickled down her parched throat, bringing with it a long-forgotten warmth, and finally, it allowed her to find her voice.
She hugged her knees, buried her head in the blanket, and the repressed, heart-wrenching sobs from the long night finally burst forth, raw and unrestrained.
This was not a cry of despair. It was a farewell to the nightmare, and a final, brutal goodbye to the naive, foolish girl she used to be.
The sobs gradually subsided into quiet whimpers. By the time the police and paramedics arrived, Seraphina had regained her composure. But her eyes, once as clear as a tranquil lake, were now utterly dead, devoid of any light.
She silently allowed the paramedics to examine and bandage her wounds. She was silently lifted onto a stretcher, and silently placed in the back of an ambulance. From beginning to end, she did not say a word, like an exquisite doll, devoid of a soul.
On the way to the small town's only hospital, a female police officer tried to question her.
"Miss, can you tell us what happened? Who did this to you?"
Seraphina slowly turned her head, looking into the officer's compassionate eyes. She opened her mouth, and the hypocritical, smiling faces of Richard and Liliana flashed through her mind.
Should she say their names?
No.
She couldn't.
She knew that with their family's power, they would find a way to escape justice even if the police opened a case. A kidnapping charge would likely be dropped due to "insufficient evidence." And she, Seraphina, would become the laughingstock of high society—a sullied woman, cast aside by her fiancé and stepsister, and violated by kidnappers.
That was not the revenge she craved.
What she wanted was to give them a taste of falling from the heavens into the depths of hell. She wanted to personally strip away everything they held dear, to make them kneel before her and beg for her forgiveness like dogs.
And that was a kind of justice the police could never give her.
At that thought, a single, scarlet ember began to glow beneath the dead ashes of her spirit. She looked at the officer and shook her head, her voice as hoarse as sandpaper. "I... I can't remember. I was at a party last night, I drank too much. When I woke up, I was there."
"And your injuries..."
"I must have... fallen." She lowered her gaze, her long lashes hiding the icy hatred in her eyes.
The officer was clearly skeptical, but seeing her fragile state, she didn't press further. She sighed, classifying the case as "pending investigation."
At the hospital, the results of the detailed physical examination were the final, sharpest knife, twisting in her soul.
She had multiple soft tissue contusions and a mild concussion. But the most unbearable confirmation was the evidence of a man—a stranger—found inside her.
The cave. The man in the silver mask.
The chaotic, feverish encounter in the night had not been a dream.
Seraphina's fists clenched, her nails digging so deeply into her palms that they drew blood, but she felt nothing. Her heart had already gone numb.
She had lost her most precious treasure. Not in a romantic wedding bed with the man she loved, but in a cold, dark cave, in the most humiliating and wretched way possible, to a man whose face she would never know.
This humiliation, this hatred, she would add it all to Richard and Liliana's tally. Every last drop.
After everything was taken care of, Seraphina refused the police's offer of a ride home. Using one of her diamond earrings—the only thing she hadn't lost in her escape—as collateral, she borrowed some cash and a phone from a kind nurse.
She did not call her family. She knew her home must be in chaos over the "disappearance" of the bride-to-be. But she had no desire to return in this pathetic state, and even less desire to explain herself.
She used the phone to hail a private car. The destination: her city, her family estate. The place that had once been her glorious home, but was now a viper's nest.
During the long, hours-long drive, Seraphina stared out the window in silence, watching the scenery fly by.
Her mind replayed the events of the last twenty-four hours like a film on a loop.
Richard's adoring eyes as he knelt to propose, and his cold, venomous curse.
Liliana's sweet smile as she hugged her and called her "sister," and her twisted, hideous face, contorted by jealousy.
The kidnappers' lewd smirks.
And... the mysterious stranger's scorching body and desperate kiss.
All of it, like the sharpest chisel, was carving away the naive, happy girl who believed in the good of the world, gouging her out from the depths of her soul.
It was an excruciating, bloody process.
And then, upon the empty ruins, a new soul, forged in overwhelming hatred, slowly began to rise.
A soul that was cold, hard, and... unforgiving.
By the time the car finally entered the familiar, exclusive neighborhood of the city's wealthiest elite, night had fallen once more.
Seraphina had the driver stop at an intersection some distance from her home. She paid the fare and, alone, walked like a phantom towards the magnificent, brightly lit estate.
It was her home.
It had once been her warmest sanctuary, a symbol of her status and honor.
Now, it was a battlefield. Inside were her mortal enemies, and the hypocrisy and conspiracies she was now forced to confront.
She stood in the shadows across from the estate, quietly observing the ornate, wrought-iron gates. She could imagine Richard and Liliana behind them, putting on a grand performance of being worried sick, searching for her everywhere, earning everyone's sympathy.
A cold, mirthless smile touched the corners of Seraphina's lips.
Don't rush.
I'm back.
I've crawled my way back from hell, one step at a time.
Richard. Liliana. Are you ready? You may have started this show, but from now on, I will be the one directing.
The nightmare was over. And theirs was just beginning.