Jackson didn’t utter a word.
He simply tilted his head toward a towering, muscular man standing nearby.
The giant moved with menacing purpose, seizing Mariam’s arm in an iron grip while his other hand clamped tightly around her neck.
Mariam’s body jerked instinctively.
“What are you doing? I can walk by myself!”
“And let you run away? That’s not the plan.” Jackson glanced back at the towering man.
“Mikhail, you don’t have to be gentle with her.”
Without another word, Jackson turned and strode out of the restaurant.
Mariam was forced to stumble after him as Mikhail roughly kicked the backs of her legs, urging her forward.
Behind her, Ronan’s desperate screams echoed, each cry piercing her soul.
“You promised you’d let Ronan go!” she cried, twisting her head back in vain to catch a glimpse of Ronan.
“Oh did I? Are promises meant to be kept?” Jackson’s tone dripped with cold amusement.
Mariam bit her bottom lip.
She didn’t know how to answer that.
“Your father seems to think otherwise. After all, he hasn’t been able to keep his promise.” Jackson took a slow step forward.
“Then again, I suppose it’s difficult to honor an agreement when you have such a defiant daughter. You’re making things very difficult for your father.”
It became painfully clear to Mariam that Jackson had come to take her back and go through with the marriage.
She had believed that running away and marrying another man would free her from him.
How foolish that seemed now.
Jackson Walsh was not a man who accepted defeat, nor was he someone who simply walked away when something belonged to him.
The storm she feared had arrived and she somehow had to escape…
But with Mikhail holding her tightly, escaping was impossible.
His hand squeezed her arm so tightly that she winced in pain and every attempt to twist free was met with a harsh yank that nearly dislocated her shoulder.
Suddenly, she felt coarse fabric brushing against her face.
Before she could react, a blindfold was tied over her eyes, plunging her into suffocating darkness.
“What are you doing?!” Mariam gasped, her breathing turning erratic as she thrashed against Mikhail.
“Covering your eyes,” Mikhail said, his voice deep and gravelly — the first words she’d heard him speak.
“Can’t have you knowing where you’re being taken.”
His tone was devoid of emotion, like he’d done this a thousand times before.
Mariam’s panic spiked to a level she’d never felt before.
She was shoved roughly into the back seat of a car.
Cold leather met her shaking body and she felt hands restraining her wrists.
The car door slammed shut with a harsh.
The air was thick with the sharp scent of leather and gasoline, making her stomach churn with dread.
The engine roared to life, and the vehicle started moving.
Mariam couldn’t tell how many people were in the car, but she felt Mikhail’s oppressive presence next to her.
“At least tell me that you are not going to do anything to Ronan…” Mariam managed to say.
“Funny, how you are worrying about him when you should be worrying about yourself.” Mariam heard Jackson’s deep, cruel sneer.
He was seated in the front passenger seat.
“Please…” Mariam hated how small she sounded, like she was bargaining with the devil himself.
“He has nothing to do with this. Whatever you want—leave him out of it as it’s simply not fair!”
“You think it’s fair to run away?” He asked in a mocking manner.
“After your father sold your hand to me? After I paid off every last cent of the Doyle family’s debt?”
A humorless smile touched his lips.
“Tell me, Mariam, who exactly is the one being unfair here?”
The weight of his words crushed Mariam.
Her lips pressed together before parting slowly, releasing the fury she’d kept buried for years.
“You hate me, Jackson,” she hissed.
“Why are you so determined to marry me?”
Her chest rose and fell with anger.
“You have women throwing themselves at you wherever you go. You could have anyone you want. It wouldn’t cost you anything to let me go.”
The air turned deathly still.
For a long, unbearable moment, no one spoke.
“You know how much I used to like you,” Mariam continued.
“But that girl is gone.
All I have that’s left for you is hatred—” she leaned forward as far as Mikhail’s grip allowed, “I want nothing to do with you, Jackson Walsh!
I certainly don’t want to be your wife!”
Mikhail abruptly tightened his crushing hold on her wrists.
Pain shot up her arms and she couldn’t suppress a wince.
“B*tch, you’re being too loud,” Mikhail growled, his voice low and threatening.
His grip dug deeper, bruising her fragile skin.
“Oh no… let her speak,” Jackson said as if he was very amused.
His tone was deceptively calm, but there was a deadly edge beneath it.
He wanted her defiance.
He fed on her anger — because in this twisted game, he was still in control.