Chapter 57: The Moment the World Finally Lets Go
The sun hadn’t yet burned the chill out of the air when Ragnak arrived at Pollsmoor’s gates. He leaned against the hood of Caleb’s borrowed Land Cruiser, arms crossed, watching the prison’s barbed wire catch the first gold of dawn. His breath fogged in front of him.
Two days left.
Two days until Arkan expected his decision—final, irreversible, carved into the fabric of whatever remained of his loyalty. He flexed his fingers, half expecting to find blood on them. But his hands were clean. For now.
The gate buzzed. A metallic clank echoed across the yard.
Then—Emily.
She stepped through the doorway, blinking against the light like someone who’d spent too long in the dark. Her clothes were the same ones she’d been arrested in—jeans, a faded university hoodie, sneakers with the laces missing. Prison rules. No strings.
For a heartbeat, she stood there, disoriented. Then she saw him.
Her face fractured.
She ran.
Ragnak barely had time to push off the car before she crashed into him, her arms locking around his ribs like she was afraid he’d vanish. Her laugh was wet, half sob, half wild relief, muffled against his collarbone. He caught her instinctively, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other pressed between her shoulder blades where he could feel her pulse hammering.
“You came.” Her voice cracked. “You actually came.”
Ragnak exhaled. The weight of her was real. Warm. Alive. He tightened his grip, just for a second, before forcing himself to loosen it.
“I said I would.”
She leaned back to look at him, eyes red-rimmed but bright. “Yeah, well. People say a lot of things.”
A guard shouted something from the gate. Emily flinched. Ragnak shot a glare over her shoulder, and the man retreated.
She noticed. “Still scary, huh?”
“Efficient.”
She laughed again, shaky but genuine. “Same thing, with you.”
The morning air smelled like damp earth and diesel fumes. Beyond the prison walls, the city was waking up—cars rumbling in the distance, a street vendor shouting prices, the far-off wail of a siren. Normal life. Something Emily hadn’t touched in months.
She shivered. Ragnak shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
She blinked up at him. “Since when do you do the gentleman thing?”
“Since you nearly froze to death in holding.”
“Ha. Knew you cared.” She tugged the jacket tighter. It swallowed her whole.
He didn’t deny it.
A beat passed. Then Emily’s fingers found his sleeve, tentative. “Hey. Look at me.”
He did.
Her smile was small but real. “Thank you.”
The words settled somewhere behind his ribs. He nodded once.
She squeezed his arm. “So. What now?”
Now, the others would be waiting—Ava at the safehouse, Caleb with the car, Mia already brewing enough coffee to wake the dead. Now, there were plans to make, loose ends to tie, a decision looming like a blade over his neck.
Now, for the first time, all six of them were free.
Ragnak looked down at Emily—at the way she tilted her face toward the sun like she’d forgotten what warmth felt like—and felt something shift.
“Now,” he said quietly, “you make me more human than I have ever been.”
Her breath hitched.
Then she punched him in the arm. “God, that was *cheesy*.”
He caught her fist before she could pull away. “It was true.”
She went still. The laughter faded from her eyes, replaced by something softer. More dangerous.
The moment stretched.
A horn blared down the road. Caleb’s Land Cruiser rolled up beside them, window down, his smirk audible. “You two done with the Hallmark moment? We’ve got shit to do.”
Emily flipped him off without looking.
Ragnak opened the passenger door. “Get in.”
She hesitated. “Where are we going?”
“Away.”
She glanced back at the prison—at the high walls, the watchtowers, the years stolen from her. Then she squared her shoulders and climbed into the car.
The door shut with a solid *thunk*.
Ragnak slid into the driver’s seat. The engine growled to life.
Behind them, Pollsmoor’s gates closed for the last time.
Ahead—
The road was open.
Two days left.
And for the first time, he wasn’t counting them down.
=====
Green Point Park smelled like crushed fynbos and salt wind rolling in from the Atlantic. Emily braced her hands against the stone circle’s weathered edge, fingertips tracing century-old carvings while the breeze tangled her hair into knots. Behind her, Ragnak stood motionless—too still, like if he blinked she might dissolve into the golden-hour light.
"Stop looking at me like I'm going to break," she said without turning.
His exhale was nearly soundless. "Habit."
"Yeah, well." She kicked at a tuft of grass. "Prison makes you tough or dead. Guess which one I chose."
The labyrinth stretched before them, concentric paths leading nowhere fast. She stepped onto the first curve—just to feel the earth beneath her feet, solid and unbarred. Ragnak followed at a distance that wasn’t distance at all.
"You’re angry," he observed.
"Damn right." A seagull screeched overhead. She waited for it to pass before continuing. "Not at you. At everyone treating me like blown glass. Even Ava triple-checks if I’m ‘up for’ coffee like I might shatter mid-latte."
Ragnak’s shadow fell across the path as he rounded a turn ahead of her. "You were caged. They’re compensating."
"Bullshit." She halted, forcing him to face her. "You never did."
The truth of it hung between them—him handing her a knife in the safehouse without commentary, letting her take point during the courthouse recon, his silence when she’d punched that cop in the ribs during the transport ambush.
Wind rattled the protea bushes. Ragnak tilted his head, studying her with that surgeon’s gaze that missed nothing. "What do you want, Emily?"
"To choose." The word came out raw. "Not just survival. Not just reacting. I want to decide who I become now."
His eyes flickered—something unguarded passing through before the shutters closed. "Adulthood isn’t the pain they inflict." He stepped closer, close enough that she could see the scar bisecting his left eyebrow from a long-ago OR accident. "It’s the decisions you make despite it."
Emily reached out, gripping his wrist where his pulse beat steady under scarred skin. "Then stop treating me like the girl in the prison jumpsuit."
His free hand came up, hesitated, then brushed a windblown strand of hair behind her ear. The touch lasted less than a second, but the warmth lingered.
"Done," he said.
The ocean roared in the distance. Somewhere beyond the labyrinth, children shouted, their laughter slicing through the heavy air. Emily didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just held onto the point where their skin met like it was the only real thing left.
Ragnak’s thumb traced the ridge of her knuckles—once, twice—before he pulled back. "Arkan expects my answer tomorrow."
The reminder was a bucket of ice water. She swallowed hard. "And?"
He watched a cargo ship inch across the horizon. "I’ve made my decision."
Emily didn’t ask. She already knew.
The path ahead forked—one route spiraling inward, the other leading out. Without a word, she took his hand and tugged him toward the exit.
Two days left.
They walked into the wind together.
=====
They walked into the wind together.
The hotel loomed ahead, its glass facade reflecting the bruised purple of twilight. Ragnak’s hand stayed on the small of Emily’s back as they crossed the lobby—not guiding, not claiming, just *there*, a silent reassurance against the weight of too many watching eyes. The elevator doors slid shut with a whisper, sealing them in sterile silence.
She leaned against the mirrored wall, watching his reflection. "Well," she said, voice rough from disuse, "let's talk about that kissing of ours. You know, through the cell bars."
His fingers flexed against his thigh.
She grinned, sharp as the switchblade he’d given her last week. "I also sucked your cock, if I remember correctly."
The elevator dinged.
Their suite smelled like lemon cleaner and the faintest trace of gun oil—Caleb’s handiwork, no doubt. Ragnak locked the door behind them, methodical as always, while Emily kicked off her shoes and padded across the carpet.
The mattress dipped under her weight as she sat. "So." She hooked a finger in the collar of her shirt, tugged it aside to expose the fading bruise on her collarbone. "What should we do now, without iron bars?"
Ragnak didn’t answer.
She did it for him.
Her hands made quick work of her clothes, jeans shoved down her thighs, shirt tossed somewhere near the minibar. The scars stood out stark under the dim bedside lamp—knife-thin lines from prison shivs, the raised welt of a cigarette burn. She didn’t hide them.
His breath hitched.
"Your turn," she murmured, rising to meet him.
Her fingers traced the buttons of his shirt, deliberate, savoring each snap of fabric giving way. His skin was warmer than she expected, the muscles beneath taut with barely leashed control. He let her undress him, passive only until her nails grazed the waistband of his trousers—then his hand caught her wrist.
"Emily."
"Don’t," she said, pressing closer. "Don’t fucking think. Not tonight."
His grip tightened.
She smirked. "Tomorrow, you gotta choose who you’ll take with you to Elarion." Her free hand slid lower, palming the hardening length of him through his pants. "But I *must* ask you this question—a standard one."
His exhale was ragged.
"Would you," she whispered, lips brushing his ear, "be my little bitch?"
Silence.
Then—laughter, bright and startled, burst from her as he spun her around, pinning her to the wall with his hips. His teeth scraped her shoulder, possessive, punishing.
"Yes," she gasped, arching into him. "I could be way more than that... *daddy*."
The sound he made was almost inhuman.
His hands were everywhere—kneading her breasts, twisting her nipples until she cried out, sliding between her thighs to find her already wet. Two fingers pushed inside without warning, curling just right, and she choked on his name.
"Still laughing?" he growled.
She rocked against his hand, breathless. "Try harder."
He did.
The bed swallowed them whole. Sheets tangled around her ankles as he spread her legs, mouth hot and relentless between her thighs. His tongue flicked her clit once, twice, before sucking hard enough to make her see stars. She fisted his hair, riding his face with abandon, each moan louder than the last.
"Fuck," she panted, "fuck, *fuck*—"
He pulled back just as she teetered on the edge.
Her glare could’ve melted steel.
Ragnak smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You wanted more."
She lunged.
He let her flip them, landing on his back with her straddling his hips. Her hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slow, savoring the way his abs tensed under her touch.
"Look at you," she murmured, guiding him to her entrance. "All that control..."
She sank down in one smooth motion, gasping as he filled her.
"...gone."
He snapped his hips up, burying himself deeper. "Move."
She obeyed.
The headboard rattled against the wall, their rhythm frantic, desperate. Sweat slicked her spine as she rode him, nails digging into his chest hard enough to leave marks. His hands gripped her waist, fingers bruising, pulling her down with every thrust.
"Say it again," he demanded.
She leaned close, lips brushing his. "*Daddy*."
He came with a groan, spilling inside her as she clenched around him, her own climax crashing over her like a wave.
For a long moment, the only sound was their breathing.
Then—
Emily collapsed onto his chest, grinning. "So. Elarion."
Ragnak traced idle circles on her hip. "Mm."
"You’re taking me, right?"
His fingers stilled.
She propped herself up on one elbow, meeting his gaze. "I didn’t survive Pollsmoor to sit this one out."
The silence stretched.
Finally, he exhaled. "You’re a nightmare."
She kissed him, slow and filthy. "And you love it."
He didn’t deny it.
Outside, the wind howled.
Two days left.