Chapter 2 - The Shale and the Salt
My bare feet hit the loose shale at the base of the fire escape with a sharp, bruising jolt. The pain shot up my calves, but I didn't stop. I scrambled away from the sheer stone wall of the estate, my skirts gathering wet sand and sharp pebbles. The tide was coming in, churning against the jagged boulders that marked the perimeter of the property. Behind me, the massive wrought-iron gates were locked tight against the coastal highway, leaving the rugged beach path as the sole artery of escape. I hunched low, keeping the shadow of the cliff between myself and the upper windows.
The lace of my hem snagged on a jagged outcrop of rock. I yanked hard, tearing a jagged hole in the intricate Chantilly fabric, freeing myself without looking back. My lungs burned from the humid salt air and the sheer adrenaline pumping through my veins. Every instinct screamed that Gabriel was already moving. He wouldn't panic; he never panicked. He would simply finish his scotch, hand the glass to a guard, and walk down to the security suite to watch my progress on the high-definition monitors. The thought of those dark, calculating eyes tracking my frantic scramble across the rocks made my stomach lurch.
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I reached the rusted iron maintenance gate that opened onto the public service road leading toward the coastal highway. To my surprise, the heavy padlock hung unlatched, swinging slightly in the offshore breeze. It was a careless oversight for a man who controlled every square foot of this coastline, or perhaps it was something else—an invitation disguised as negligence. I didn't care. I shoved the gate open with a screech of protesting hinges and slipped through into the dense, overgrown brush of the embankment, putting distance between myself and the towering glass facade of the estate.
The road ahead was a winding ribbon of cracked asphalt flanked by dark scrub oak and steep drop-offs. No streetlights illuminated this stretch, only the faint, pale glow of a rising crescent moon struggling through the marine layer. I walked as fast as my bruised, bleeding feet could manage on the abrasive pavement, keeping to the shadowed shoulder whenever a distant set of headlights swept across the fog. I had no phone, no money, and no coat to shield me from the biting ocean chill. My wedding gown, brilliant white under the chandeliers of the ballroom, now felt like a beacon in the dark, a flashing sign pointing directly to my panic.
