You can't outrun your ghosts forever. They eventually catch up, usually driving a sleek, black luxury SUV. The moment Preston's vehicle rolled onto the gravel lot, my blood turned to ice. He stepped out, looking immaculate, sharp, and entirely out of place against the rusted charm of my new home.

"Playtime is over, Claire," Preston sneered, marching up to me and grabbing my arm with that familiar, bruising grip. "Get in the car. You've embarrassed me enough."

The old Claire would have gone numb. She would have nodded, smiled an empty smile, and let him drag her back into the cage. But I wasn't wearing white silk anymore. I was wearing denim, grit, and grease. Behind me, the heavy bay doors rattled. Luke stepped out into the blinding sunlight. His muscles were rigid, a heavy crowbar gripped in his right hand, his hazel eyes blazing with a protective, lethal fury. He looked ready to commit murder.

"Let her go," Luke growled, his voice vibrating through the pavement.

Preston scoffed, but before he could issue a threat, I raised my hand, stopping Luke in his tracks. This wasn't his fight. It was mine. I looked Preston dead in the eye and pried his expensive fingers off my arm, one by one. "I am not your property," I said, my voice eerily calm and unshakable. "I am never going back. Get off my lot."

Preston's face twisted in rage, but the absolute certainty in my eyes stopped him. He realized, in that moment, he had lost his grip completely. He got back in his car and sped off. I stood in the dust, breathing in the exhaust, entirely, unequivocally free.

"I'm finally awake!" YES CLAIRE! 👏 She didn't need a prince to fight her battles, she just needed the strength to fight them herself! Did your heart race during this confrontation? Hit ❤️ to protect Claire at all costs and comment your predictions for the epic finale!