Page 9 of In His Name

CHAPTER 5

Dante

The security alert comes at 2:17 AM, my phone buzzing with an urgency that matches the sudden spike of adrenaline in my blood. Hannah's tracking bracelet—disguised as a diamond tennis bracelet, a "gift" she's required to wear at all times—has moved beyond the permitted boundaries. The notification shows her location: the eastern perimeter of the estate, near the old service entrance, an area she shouldn't even know exists. I'm out of bed and dressed in seconds, fury and fear warring for dominance in my mind. After all this time, after all the progress I thought we'd made, after the signing of the contract that legally bound her to me just three days ago—she still tries to escape. She still rejects what we are together. She still refuses to accept the immutable fact of my ownership.

Marco is already waiting in the hallway, having received the same alert. His expression is carefully neutral, professional, betraying nothing of what he might think about this situation."Security team is moving to intercept, sir. Should they bring her to you or return her to her suite?"

"To my office," I reply, my voice cold with controlled rage. "Immediately. And find out how she got out of her rooms. Someone has failed in their duties tonight."

"Yes, sir." Marco speaks quietly into his comm unit as we stride through the mansion's darkened corridors. The building feels different at night—more ancient, more ominous, the weight of its history and my family's legacy pressing down from the shadowed ceilings.

In my office, I activate the security feeds, watching as the team closes in on Hannah's position. The night-vision cameras show her clearly—a small figure huddled against the garden wall, searching desperately for a way over or through. She's wearing dark clothing, her hair tied back, a small bag slung across her body. Prepared. This wasn't impulsive; this was planned.

The betrayal cuts deeper than I expected. After her apparent acceptance, her seeming adaptation to her role in my life, this deliberate deception feels like a physical wound. I thought we had turned a corner, that she was finally beginning to understand, to accept, perhaps even to appreciate the life I've given her. Instead, she was plotting, pretending, lying with every show of cooperation.

On screen, the security team surrounds her. She doesn't fight—she's not stupid enough for that—but her body language speaks of desperate defiance even in defeat. They take her arms, begin escorting her back toward the house. I switch off the monitor, not wanting to watch this procession of failure. I need to compose myself before I see her, need to ensure that the rage doesn't overwhelm the calculated response this situation demands.

I pour myself a drink, the crystal decanter heavy in my hand. The bourbon burns going down, a physical sensation to focus on while my mind sorts through appropriate punishments. This isn't a minor infraction to be addressed with darkness or isolation. This is fundamental rejection, a direct challenge to my ownership that requires a permanent, unforgettable response.

A knock at the door interrupts my contemplation. "Enter," I call, setting down my glass.

Two security guards bring Hannah in, Marco following behind. Her hands are bound before her with plastic zip ties, her expression a mixture of defeat and simmering defiance. The guards position her in the center of the room, then step back at my signal, leaving only Marco by the door.

"Leave us," I instruct Marco. "But stay within calling distance."

Marco hesitates, perhaps concerned about leaving me alone with Hannah in my current state. "Sir, perhaps I should?—"

"Leave us," I repeat, my tone allowing no further discussion.

After he departs, closing the door behind him, I study Hannah in silence. Her clothes are dirty from the garden, a smudge of earth on her cheek, her hair coming loose from its tie. Despite the dishevelment, despite the bindings on her wrists, she maintains a certain dignity, her chin lifted, her eyes meeting mine without flinching.

"Explain yourself," I finally say, my voice dangerously quiet.

She swallows hard but doesn't look away. "I think my actions are self-explanatory."

"You tried to escape," I clarify, moving closer to her, watching as she tenses but holds her ground. "After everything—after the comfort I've provided, the privileges I've granted, the patience I've shown—you still reject me. Reject us."

"There is no 'us,'" she says, the words carried on a breath, barely audible but unmistakable in the quiet room. "There's youtaking, controlling, owning. There's me surviving the only way I can."

I circle her slowly, like a predator assessing wounded prey. "Is that what the recent cooperation was? A strategy for survival? A performance designed to lower my guard?"

She says nothing, but her silence is confirmation enough.

"How did you get out of your suite?" I ask, though I already have suspicions. "The doors were locked, the windows sealed."

Again, silence. Protecting someone, then. Another betrayal within my household.

"Who helped you?" I press, stopping directly in front of her. "Tell me now, and their punishment will be less severe."

A flicker of fear crosses her face—not fear for herself, but for whoever assisted her. "No one," she says quickly. "I figured it out myself. There's a service panel in the bathroom that isn't properly secured. I squeezed through."

The lie is obvious, but I let it pass for now. The identity of her accomplice can be discovered through other means. What matters in this moment is addressing her betrayal, ensuring it never happens again.

"Do you understand what you've done tonight, Hannah?" I ask, my voice softening deceptively. "You've violated our contract. You've broken the most fundamental rule of our relationship. You've demonstrated that all your recent progress was a lie, a manipulation."

"The contract was signed under duress," she says, a hint of her old defiance returning. "It's not legally binding. Nothing about this 'relationship' is real or consensual."

I smile, the expression without warmth. "Real or not, consensual or not, it is your reality. The only reality you will ever know. And tonight, you've proven that you still require more persuasive measures to accept that fact."

---