Wings Of Defiance

HAZEL

The manor slept.

A suffocating stillness clung to its ornate walls and velvet drapes like the remnants of a dying symphony. My heels were in my hand. The long silk gown rustled faintly around my legs, now wrinkled and stained at the hem with spilled champagne. I had never walked so softly in my life.

But beside me, Tristan moved like a shadow.

Silent. Controlled. Unshakable.

He hadn’t said much since I’d whispered the words let’s go to Vegas. He didn’t ask if I meant it, didn’t demand I prove it. He just moved. Quietly. Methodically. Like he'd known all along that I’d break, and had been waiting for the moment I’d ask him to catch me.

And God, he did.

We crept down the back staircase, the one the servants used—the one I’d never stepped foot on until tonight. With every creak beneath the carpeted wood, my heart threatened to leap out of my chest. The whole idea felt ridiculous now. Reckless.

But then I’d glance at Tristan.

He didn’t look back at me. He just walked ahead, one hand casually resting on the curve of the banister, the other loosely gripping the small overnight bag he’d packed for me in less than ten minutes. He looked like he belonged in a spy movie—sharp jaw, black shirt still open at the collar, sleeves rolled to his forearms, that lean, lethal calmness in every step.

I followed him like he was gravity itself.

Outside, the air was cold and biting. The black SUV was already waiting, tucked away in the shadows of the garage exit. Tristan opened the door for me, his eyes scanning the manor windows, his body a shield between me and the world. He didn’t speak until we were driving through the gates.

“You okay?” His voice was low, rough with sleep and tension.

I didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure. The city looked different at this hour—muted, washed in grey-blue streetlights. It felt unfamiliar, even though I’d lived here my whole life. It was the first time I was seeing it not as a prisoner. But as someone fleeing.

My hands twisted together in my lap. “My father’s going to kill me.”

Tristan didn’t flinch. “Let him try.”

I let out a shaky breath. “You don’t know him like I do. He’ll send people. He has connections in every police department in the state. He’ll twist this into some scandal, tell everyone I had a breakdown—maybe even that you kidnapped me.”

“He won’t find you,” Tristan said calmly, eyes fixed on the road. “Not unless you want to be found.”

That silence that followed was heavier than any conversation. I turned toward the window, watching the city pass by like a flickering memory.

“What am I even doing?” I murmured, barely audible. “This is insane. I’ve never even packed a bag by myself. I don’t have a passport on me. I don’t know anything about airports. I’ve never been on a plane. What if—”

“You have your passport,” he said. “I grabbed it from your father’s safe.”

My eyes snapped to him. “You what?”

He looked at me for a moment, one brow raised. “You asked me to get you out. I don’t do things halfway.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You broke into his office?”

“I didn’t break in,” he replied smoothly. “I knew the code.”

I wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both.

He didn’t smile, didn’t smirk. Just kept driving like we were going on a normal vacation. As if he hadn’t just committed potential treason against one of the most powerful men in the country. For me.

By the time we reached the airport, I was shaking.

Private terminal.

Of course.

Tristan parked directly outside the small lit-up building. A uniformed attendant stepped forward the second we exited, greeting him like they’d done this before. A few quiet exchanges, and then we were ushered toward a sleek black jet waiting quietly on the runway.

It felt like a movie. Like someone else’s life.

As we climbed the stairs to the jet, my heart stuttered. I paused halfway up, gripping the cold metal railing, suddenly dizzy.

“I can’t,” I whispered.

Tristan, already at the top, turned.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just stood there, backlit by the soft interior lights, his silhouette strong and solid.

“You’re not scared of flying,” he said.

“No.”

“You’re scared of leaving.”

I looked down at the tarmac, the airport building behind us already feeling too far away.

He descended two steps, until we were almost eye-level.

“Hazel,” he said, gently. “You don’t owe anyone your life. Not your father. Not Richard. Not this city.”

“But everything I’ve ever known—”

“—was a cage,” he finished for me, quiet but firm. “You’ve spent your whole life walking a path someone else chose for you. This isn’t about Vegas. It’s about you finally choosing.”

The wind tugged at my hair. My throat was tight.

“I’m not brave like you,” I said.

“I’m not brave,” he said simply. “I’m just someone who’s tired of watching you suffer.”

I stared at him.

“I’ll take you back right now if you ask me to,” he added. “No pressure. No judgment. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants to know what freedom tastes like—take one more step.”

I swallowed. My fingers tightened on the railing.

And then—I stepped forward.

His hand caught mine as I reached the top, steadying me as we entered the jet.

The interior was beautiful, of course. Soft cream leather, gold accents, warm lighting. I sank into one of the seats by the window, still trying to believe this was real. My hand still tingled where he had touched it.

Once the doors closed and the engines started humming, that’s when the panic really settled in.

I pressed my head to the window. “God, I’m actually doing this.”

Tristan took the seat across from me, one leg stretched out, arms resting lazily on the armrests.

“You’re allowed to be scared,” he said, meeting my gaze. “You’re just not allowed to go back to a life you hate because of it.”

“Do you think I’ll regret this?” I asked softly.

He tilted his head slightly. “Do you regret standing up at your engagement party and pretending you were happy?”

I blinked.

He knew.

Of course he did.

“Everything will change,” I said.

“That’s the point.”

The plane began to ascend, city lights shrinking below us.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t looking at them with longing.

I was looking forward to it.