She quickly closed the bathroom door, pulled out the small wrench, and resumed working on the stubborn window. She lost track of time. Sweat soaked through the back of her shirt. Finally, with a final, grating scrape, the window gave way, opening a narrow crack. A gust of cool, damp night air rushed in, making her shiver involuntarily. But her heart was a furnace. So close. I'm so close to getting out. She redoubled her efforts. Finally, the window swung fully open. The chilly wind cut through her thin clothing, but she ignored it. She scrambled onto the windowsill. An inky, impenetrable darkness stretched out before her. She had no idea what awaited her down there. Would the guards hear the noise and come running? Would Zane fly into a rage and find even more severe ways to confine her? But this chance was too precious. If she didn't try now, she might never get another. She thought of the two talks with Zane—how he'd said they could go back to the way things were, how he claimed he believed in magic. A deep, primal unease settled in her gut. Her intuition screamed that he was planning something terrible. The sooner I'm gone, the safer I'll be. She took several deep, steadying breaths, clenched her fists, and prepared to jump. Suddenly, a voice drifted up from below. It was Zane. She instantly pulled herself back inside, pressing against the wall. Peering carefully down, she saw a faint light spilling from the study window on the first floor. Zane was on the phone with someone, his voice raised in what sounded like an argument.Darcy strained to listen. Sounded like Zane was demanding answers. "...why can't you come?... The helicopter is already arranged! You tell me now that you're sick?... Spit the deposit back out." Who is he talking to? Who was supposed to come? A helicopter? Whoever it was must be incredibly important. Her mind raced, a chaotic mess. Just finish fighting and go back to sleep. Don't ruin my chance. But fate wasn't on her side. The argument dragged on. Then, a sentence sliced through the night air, spoken with venomous fury, "You think I need your hypnosis that badly? Worst case, I'll just put the drug in her without it!" Darcy's heart hammered against her ribs. Who is he going to drug? And why hypnosis? Who the hell is he talking to?! A thousand questions exploded in her mind, but one thing was chillingly clear—the drug and the hypnosis were almost certainly intended for her. So that's what he meant. That's his "magic" for getting "back to how we were"... A wave of such profound disgust washed over her that her body trembled with it. She wanted to scream, to find a knife and plunge it into his heart. She clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling any sound, and curled into a tight ball on the narrow windowsill. Darkness swallowed her, but her eyes burned with a fierce, red-hot resolve. I have to get out. Now. Crash— A loud, shattering noise erupted from the study below—something being swept violently off a desk. Seems negotiations failed. He was throwing a tantrum. An agonizing stretch of time passed. The sounds from the study gradually ceased. The faint light went out.Good. Looked like Zane had gone back to bed. And when he woke up, would the first thing he did be to find her and stick her with whatever drug he'd mentioned? She waited a few minutes more, until the silence felt absolute. Finding her footing, she gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and pushed off into the void. The impact slammed through her, a jarring shock that rattled her bones and made her vision swim. It felt like someone had struck the soles of her feet with a sledgehammer. But thanks to her earlier reconnaissance, she had landed exactly where she'd aimed—on the patch of soft, recently turned earth. It absorbed the impact and muffled the sound perfectly. She quickly scrambled behind a large, empty planter nearby. No shouts. No running footsteps. Looked like her gamble paid off. Joy rippled out from her chest like rings on a lake.Now, she just had to get past the guards at the villa's entrance. Squinting through the pre-dawn gloom, Darcy tried to make out the situation at the front. She could just discern a single figure standing there. The maid hadn't lied; they were on rotating shifts. So... Would the best moment be during their shift change, when their guard might be down, and their reactions slower? She flexed her legs and ankles carefully. Everything seemed to be in working order, just sore. Thank god I kept up with my workouts. I'd be a wreck otherwise. As the first faint streaks of gray began to tear a seam in the eastern sky, she saw movement. Another man, yawning widely, ambled over to the one at the door. "Man, I'm beat," the newcomer grumbled. "Feels like the alarm went off two minutes after I closed my eyes. Damn it. Good thing this gig is supposed to wrap up tomorrow." The guard at the door rubbed his eyes, his own yawn threatening to split his face. "You're tired? Try standing out here all night, cold and hungry. The only reason I'm doing it is the fat paycheck." "Alright, alright, quit whining. It's almost over." "You sure about that?" "That woman doesn't look like she's giving in. I don't get rich people. With that kind of money, why not just find a new girl?"