Chapter 4 You Don't Deserve Freedom

# Chapter 4: You Don't Deserve Freedom

"What secrets?" I whispered, my eyes darting between Damien and Moretti. "I don't understand."

Moretti laughed, the sound echoing through the warehouse. "She really doesn't know, does she?" He turned to Damien with mock surprise. "You didn't tell your little kidnapper that her brother has been selling your corporate secrets to Archer Industries for months?"

My gaze snapped to Marcus, who couldn't meet my eyes. His silence was confirmation enough.

"That's why his debt is so high," Moretti continued, circling us like a predator. "Gambling was just the beginning. When he couldn't pay, I offered him another way out—information. Your brother works in the IT department at Holt Tower, doesn't he, Juno? Amazing what access those tech guys have."

The revelation hit me like a physical blow. Marcus wasn't just a victim—he was complicit in something far worse than gambling debts.

"Is it true?" I asked my brother directly, my voice breaking.

Marcus finally looked up, his face a mask of shame. "I didn't have a choice, Juno. They were going to kill me."

"There's always a choice," Damien said coldly, echoing his earlier words to me. He turned to Moretti. "What I don't understand is why the elaborate setup with her. If you wanted me, you could have made a move directly."

Moretti smiled, the expression never reaching his eyes. "Two reasons. First, I needed to know if the rumors were true—that the great Damien Holt had developed a... personal interest in someone. Imagine my delight when you walked right into my trap to save her brother." He gestured toward me with his gun. "And second, I needed to confirm just how much she knows about your operation."

"I don't know anything about his operation," I insisted, confusion and anger building inside me.

"Oh? Then why have you been photographing documents in his office for the past six months?"

The accusation blindsided me. "What? I've never been in his office! I'd never even met him before yesterday!"

Damien's hand on my back had gone rigid, but his face revealed nothing. "She's telling the truth, Vincent. She's not your corporate spy."

Moretti's smile faltered slightly. "If not her, then who..." His eyes widened with realization, then narrowed as he turned to one of his men. "Get Sullivan on the phone. Now."

While the man stepped aside to make the call, Moretti kept his gun trained on us. "It seems we have a misunderstanding. But no matter. You're both still valuable to me."

"What do you want?" Damien asked, his voice deadly calm.

"Originally? Just the shipping access codes for your harbor facilities. But now?" Moretti gestured between us. "Now I'm curious about what makes her so special that you'd risk everything to save her brother. The infamous Damien Holt, known for sacrificing anyone who gets in his way, suddenly playing hero?"

I glanced at Damien, wondering the same thing myself. His reputation as a ruthless businessman was legendary—what was I to him that he would put himself in danger?

"Release the brother," Damien said, ignoring the question. "He's of no use to you anymore."

"On the contrary," Moretti replied. "He's my insurance that both of you will cooperate."

The man who had stepped away returned, whispering something in Moretti's ear. Whatever he heard made Moretti's face darken with rage.

"It seems Sullivan has disappeared," he said, his voice tight with controlled fury. "How convenient."

"I warned you not to trust him," Damien replied coolly. "Sullivan's loyalty has always been for sale to the highest bidder."

Moretti's jaw clenched. "No matter. I still have what I need right here." He gestured to his men. "Secure them. We're moving to the secondary location."

As the armed men approached, I felt Damien tense beside me. His hand moved from my back to grip my arm, pulling me slightly behind him.

"When I move, stay down," he whispered, so softly I barely heard him.

Before I could process his words, the warehouse was plunged into darkness. Gunfire erupted from multiple directions, accompanied by shouts and the sound of breaking glass. Damien yanked me to the floor, covering my body with his as chaos erupted around us.

"Stay down!" he ordered, his breath hot against my ear.

I could see nothing in the pitch blackness, but I could feel the solid weight of Damien above me, shielding me from whatever was happening. Footsteps pounded around us, more shots were fired, and then I heard Moretti's voice, cursing as he shouted orders to retreat.

Moments later, the emergency lights flickered on, casting an eerie red glow throughout the warehouse. Damien was already moving, pulling me to my feet and rushing toward where Marcus was still tied to the chair, miraculously unharmed in the crossfire.

"Are you okay?" I asked, frantically checking my brother for new injuries as Damien cut his restraints.

Marcus nodded weakly. "Juno, I'm so sorry. I never meant—"

"Save it," Damien cut him off coldly. "We need to move. Now."

He spoke into his earpiece, issuing rapid commands as he guided us toward the exit. Outside, one of the black SUVs pulled up, and Damien practically shoved us inside before climbing in after us.

"Status report," he demanded to the driver as the vehicle sped away.

"Moretti escaped with three of his men," the driver replied. "We have two in custody. The warehouse is secure."

Damien nodded, then turned his attention to Marcus, his expression hardening. "You and I are going to have a very unpleasant conversation about exactly what information you sold and to whom. But for now, you're going to medical to get checked out."

Marcus looked terrified but nodded. I reached for his hand, squeezing it despite my own confusion and anger. Whatever he'd done, he was still my brother.

The SUV took us to a private medical facility where a team of doctors was waiting. As they wheeled Marcus away for examination, Damien pulled me into an empty conference room, closing the door behind us.

For a long moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he slammed his fist into the wall beside him, the drywall cracking under the impact.

I flinched, taking an involuntary step back. "Damien—"

"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "what could have happened in there? If my team had been a second later, if Moretti had realized sooner about Sullivan..." He ran a hand through his hair, his composure cracking for the first time since I'd met him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, though I wasn't entirely sure what I was apologizing for.

"Sorry?" He laughed bitterly. "Sorry doesn't begin to cover it, Juno. Your brother has been selling my company's confidential information for months. Information that has cost me millions and put lives at risk."

"I didn't know," I insisted. "You can't blame me for what he did."

"No," he agreed, his voice softening slightly. "I don't blame you for that. But I do blame you for recklessly putting yourself in danger by trying to kidnap me instead of coming to me directly for help."

"Coming to you? How was I supposed to know you would help me? You're Damien Holt—the ruthless billionaire who crushes anyone who gets in his way."

"And yet here I am," he countered, stepping closer to me, "risking everything to save you and your traitorous brother. What does that tell you?"

I swallowed hard, unnerved by his proximity and the intensity of his gaze. "I don't know what it tells me. I don't understand any of this—why you're helping me, why you knew so much about me before we even met..."

"Because I've been watching you for months," he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Ever since your name first appeared in connection to the information leaks."

"You suspected me?" I asked, hurt despite the rationality of his suspicion.

"Initially, yes. But the more I learned about you, the more I realized you couldn't be involved. You're too..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Honest. Loyal. The way you care for your brother despite everything, the way you volunteer at that shelter every week even when you can barely afford your own rent."

His detailed knowledge of my life should have felt invasive, frightening. Instead, it created a strange intimacy between us, as if he'd seen parts of me that no one else had bothered to look for.

"So what happens now?" I asked quietly.

"Now," he said, his expression darkening, "we deal with the consequences of your brother's actions and your kidnapping attempt."

My stomach dropped. "Are you going to turn us in to the police?"

"The police are the least of your concerns," he replied. "Moretti is still out there, and he now sees you as a direct link to me. You're a target, Juno."

"What does that mean for me?"

Damien's eyes held mine, intense and unyielding. "It means you're not safe. Not on your own."

"So what, you're going to protect me?" I couldn't keep the skepticism from my voice.

"Yes," he stated simply. "From now on, you stay where I can see you, where I can ensure your safety."

I bristled at his commanding tone. "I'm not a prisoner, Damien."

"No, you're not," he agreed, stepping even closer until I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "A prisoner would have far fewer comforts than what I'm offering you."

"And what exactly are you offering me?"

"Protection. Security. A chance to start over without looking over your shoulder for Moretti's men."

"In exchange for what?" I asked, knowing there had to be a catch.

His lips curved into a slight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "In exchange for your complete obedience."

The word sent a shiver through me—part indignation, part something else I didn't want to examine too closely.

"You're insane if you think I'm going to become your... what? Your servant? Your slave?"

"My ward," he corrected smoothly. "Under my protection and my authority."

"And if I refuse?"

His expression hardened. "Then you're free to walk out that door and take your chances with Moretti. But your brother stays with me until he's answered for every piece of information he sold."

It was a masterful trap—my freedom for my brother's safety. And we both knew which one I would choose.

"For how long?" I asked, already knowing I was going to agree.

"Until Moretti is no longer a threat," he replied. "Until I'm satisfied that you've learned your lesson about the dangers of the world you so recklessly threw yourself into."

"And what lesson is that?"

Damien reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face with surprising gentleness. "That freedom isn't a right, Juno. It's a privilege. One that you haven't earned back yet."

His touch lingered longer than necessary, sending an unwelcome heat through my veins. I stepped back, needing distance from the confusing effect he had on me.

"Fine," I conceded, hating the defeat in my voice. "I'll stay under your 'protection' until Moretti is dealt with. But I'm not your possession, Damien. Remember that."

His smile was slow and dangerous. "We'll see."

An hour later, after confirming that Marcus was stable and would recover from his injuries, we were in another SUV heading toward an unknown destination. Damien sat beside me, working on his tablet, occasionally issuing instructions via phone calls. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur together as we traveled farther from everything familiar.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

"My home," he replied without looking up from his tablet.

"What about my apartment? My things?"

"Already taken care of. Anything you need will be provided."

The casual way he dismissed my entire life infuriated me. "You can't just erase my existence because it's convenient for you."

This time he did look up, his blue eyes piercing in the dim light of the car. "I'm not erasing your existence, Juno. I'm protecting it. There's a difference."

We arrived at a massive estate outside the city, passing through security gates that looked capable of withstanding a small army. The house—mansion would be more accurate—loomed ahead, modern and imposing against the night sky.

As the car stopped at the entrance, Damien turned to me, his expression serious. "From now on, you sleep where I sleep, eat where I eat, and don't leave my sight without express permission. Your life is in my hands now, and I take that responsibility very seriously."

The possessiveness in his voice should have terrified me. Instead, it awakened something primal within me—a dangerous attraction to the power he wielded so effortlessly.

"And what about my heart?" I challenged, surprising even myself with the question. "Is that in your hands too?"

For a moment, his controlled façade slipped, revealing something raw and hungry beneath. "Your heart is the one thing I can't control, Juno. Not yet."

It was the "not yet" that haunted me as I followed him into his home, the doors closing behind us with a finality that felt like both an ending and a beginning.

Later that night, as I lay in the luxurious guest bedroom adjacent to his master suite, I placed my hand on my stomach, a strange fluttering sensation growing there. It wasn't fear—at least, not entirely. It was anticipation, as if my body knew something my mind hadn't yet accepted.

I'd come to kidnap Damien Holt, but somehow, he had captured me instead. And the most terrifying part was that a small, secret part of me didn't want to escape.