Billionaire Contract Wife: Eight Months in His Cage

Eleanor Vance POV

My eyes froze on the bodies sprawled in front of me.

The men my father had sent.

Their faces were carved with expressions so brutal, so vicious, that mercy had no place in them at all.

My hand trembled where it rested against President Julian Blackwood's chest.

I could feel his heartbeat, steady and powerful beneath my palm.

I had placed my hand there earlier to push him away.

Instead of pulling back now, I clung to him harder, my fingers tightening in the fabric of his suit jacket.

After watching the intruders with sharp focus, like a hawk tracking its prey, his gaze returned to me.

More precisely, to my hand gripping him.

I did not know what to do anymore.

I was stuck in the middle.

Trapped between his overwhelming solidity and their predatory stares.

Looks wrapped in deceit and filth.

Smiles that devoured me in disgusting silence.

If I accepted his offer of marriage, I would be tearing myself out of my own life.

Handing over my freedom to the Blackwood family willingly.

Becoming nothing more than owned property.

No choice.

No will.

As if I had never been anything but a prize already decided in their dirty deals.

And if I refused, if I surrendered to the fate my father had stitched together with money and prostitution, then I would be nothing but a doll tossed into their hands.

A whore sold and bought to satisfy their filthy desires.

Either way, my life would be stolen.

Crushed under a destiny I never chose.

I wiped my face harshly, forcing back my tears, then lifted my eyes to meet his.

They were already on me.

I had been lost in thought, drowning in the trap I was stuck in, while his calm eyes moved over my features in eerie silence.

It made my scalp prickle.

Suddenly, he pulled his body away from mine.

His feet no longer touching mine.

A sharp emptiness hit me.

Cold.

Was he leaving me behind?

Leaving me to them?

I grabbed his jacket desperately, my fist twisting the fabric until my knuckles went white.

"Wait... don't leave me."

The words came out as a whisper, full of raw pleading.

My eyes held everything except comfort.

The men in front of me made me dizzy.

My breathing tightened under their gazes.

Their eyes tore into me like starving beasts.

He shifted, placing his broad back in front of me.

Hiding me behind his shoulders.

A solid wall blocking the burning stares aimed my way.

In a calm, steady voice, he whispered with quiet confidence,

"I won't."

Even though his words loosened the tight knot in my chest and eased my stiff muscles, I did not let go.

I gripped him even harder.

In that moment, he was the only one protecting me.

I made my choice.

Better to give myself to him than be dragged into that filthy world where my will would be erased and I would be reduced to a body sold for their pleasure.

"I agree. Just get me out of here. Please."

Julian turned, looking straight into my eyes.

His stare was steady.

Deep.

He leaned closer, slowly, until the warmth of his breath, heavy with the scent of tobacco, brushed my face.

A cold, confident smirk curved his lips before he spoke in a low voice, heavy with control and force.

"I was going to take you out whether you agreed or not. But now that you said it yourself... you are mine. Until your very last breath."

His words burned.

Like fire tearing through my chest without mercy.

Something sharp twisted inside me.

A strange sting.

As if I had submitted to a power I could no longer escape.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

My breath caught.

The air around me felt different.

Heavier.

Deeper.

Saturated with his presence as it closed around me with no way out.

I stepped back without thinking.

His hand shot out instantly, closing around my wrist with unshakable strength.

Stopping me from escaping even half a step.

His rough grip left a mark on my soft skin.

"Don't try to pull away now."

His voice was calm, but strong.

His eyes bound me tighter than his hand ever could.

In that moment, I knew it.

From that second on, I belonged to him.

Whether I wanted it or not.

His gaze traced every inch of my face, steady and unblinking, his hand still wrapped around my wrist, fingers large and unyielding.

Then he turned again, placing his back in front of me as he faced them, his eyes sharp.

"What do you want?"

His voice rang through the space, cold and commanding, his gaze sweeping over the faces present with terrifying calm.

He took a deep drag from his cigarette, then exhaled the smoke slowly in front of them.

As if giving them extra seconds to understand his absolute dominance.

I peeked out carefully from behind him, moving slowly until I reached the side of his right arm, watching the situation with fear.

One of them cleared his throat.

A man with hard features, clearly their leader, spoke in a strained voice.

"We came to take her."

He pointed at me.

I immediately ducked back behind Mr. Blackwood, pressing myself into him.

Okay... that was terrifying.

"Who is she?"

Mr. Blackwood asked calmly, his eyes moving between the tense faces and the room around us.

I frowned in disbelief.

Hello?

I am right here.

There is no other woman here, Julian.

The man frowned.

"Eleanor Vance. The girl behind you."

Julian let out a short, sharp laugh.

Cold.

Mocking.

Like a gunshot.

It vanished just as quickly, replaced by a hard line of seriousness.

"You mean Eleanor. My wife."

My breath stopped.

My wife?!

How dare he call me that?

I was not his wife yet.

"Your wife?"

The man echoed in shock.

I could not blame him.

"So, what exactly do you want from my wife?"

"We don't care if she's married or not. We're taking her either way."

My heart pounded violently.

His words shook me to my core.

My fingers trembled against Mr. Blackwood's back as the man added,

"Then come and take her."

He said it calmly.

Too calmly.

My grip loosened.

Pain crushed my chest.

I stepped back until my spine hit the wall.

My breath shook.

But Julian only leaned against the wall beside him.

Relaxed.

Smoking.

Waiting.

Heavy footsteps echoed.

The man advanced, confident.

Victorious.

The moment he passed Julian, everything changed.

Julian moved.

A steel grip closed around the man's neck.

A sharp strike.

Bone cracked.

The body dropped.

Still.

I gasped, hands flying to my mouth, staring at the unmoving form on the floor.

He had not abandoned me.

He had been hunting.

Julian crouched, checking the pulse.

No emotion.

No hesitation.

Then he said, flat and cold,

"He's dead."