The Duke who walked out of Hell

Chapter Seven

Days had gone by since Vanessa’s visit.

Damian hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t imagined that after so long without seeing her, the mere memory—or even the thought of her—could still cut this deep. The pain sat heavily in his chest, quiet yet relentless, refusing to ease. It gnawed at him with a slow, merciless persistence, and no amount of time seemed to dull it.

For days, Damian remained in his cell, heartbroken and withdrawn. He barely moved, barely spoke, and even the simplest necessities had lost their meaning. Food felt tasteless; water was lukewarm and hollow. Time had become a blurred monotony, stretching endlessly like a dull ache he could not shake.

One evening, Jayden returned from the dining hall and approached him cautiously. Concern was etched across his face, furrowing his brows as he studied Damian.

“You didn’t come to eat,” Jayden said softly, his tone almost hesitant.

Damian didn’t reply. He didn’t even blink. He stared straight ahead, eyes distant, as though the world in front of him had ceased to exist.

“You should have at least come to collect your portion, so I could have it,” Jayden added lightly, attempting to sound casual. Still, Damian remained silent, his face a mask of empty pain.

Jayden sighed and lowered himself onto the bunk beside him. “You should eat something. You know… your wife left you. You’re not the first, you know.” His voice was gentle, but there was a bitter edge beneath it, the kind that comes from too many similar losses.

Damian’s jaw tightened, but no sound came from him. He could feel the weight of Jayden’s words, but it passed over him like wind over stone.

“Mine sold me out,” Jayden continued, his voice dropping into a low growl, bitter and personal. “She’s the reason I’m locked up here. So… sulk it up. Feel sorry for yourself if you must.”

The words hung in the air. Rough, blunt, but not entirely unkind. They carried a strange kind of understanding—the kind that only someone who had suffered could offer.

Damian still said nothing. He remained motionless, but beneath the heartbreak, his mind had begun to stir. Slowly. Painfully. Like the first tentative steps of a storm gathering on the horizon.

Another thought was forming in the depths of his mind, one that was harder and colder than the ache Vanessa had left behind. A dangerous thought, one that demanded action.

He didn’t know exactly what he would do next. But he knew one thing with terrifying certainty: he had to get out.

And to get out, he had to find the stranger from earlier. The one who had promised help. The one who had vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared.

But how could he locate this person? How could he even begin to reach them while under constant surveillance?

The question circled endlessly in his mind, a relentless whisper, until gradually, a fragile idea began to take shape. During the hours they were forced to work in the fields, there might be a chance. A moment when the eyes watching him faltered. A split second when the guards looked elsewhere. A way to search for the stranger, to uncover the path to freedom.

And if he found that stranger…

Perhaps escape was not impossible. Perhaps they could succeed together.

Jayden noticed the faraway look in Damian’s eyes and tilted his head. “Hey… what are you thinking about?” he asked gently, probing, but not pressing.

“Nothing,” Damian said quietly, almost to himself. His voice was low, calm, but it carried an edge that made Jayden pause.

Jayden studied him for a long moment, suspicion flickering briefly across his features. Something about Damian’s stillness, his unwavering gaze, unsettled him. But Jayden did not push. Instead, he gave a small shrug, lay down on his bunk, and turned his back to Damian.

Damian remained motionless. His eyes did not follow Jayden. His mind was elsewhere, turning over possibilities, examining risks, planning moves in the quiet darkness of the cell. He would not tell Jayden anything. Not yet. Not until he was certain.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Every creak of the bunk, every distant shout, every muffled footstep outside the cell felt magnified. He could feel the clock ticking, feel the passage of time like a weight pressing against his chest.

Then, shockingly, the warder appeared. He did not knock. He did not warn. He simply emerged from the shadows of the corridor, his expression grim and serious.

“Get your things,” the warder said abruptly. “You are leaving.”

Damian’s head snapped toward him. “Leaving? How—what do you mean?” he demanded, panic and disbelief coiling in his chest like a living thing.

“Ask me that question again, and maybe you will remain here.” the warder said, his voice flat and commanding, leaving no room for argument. “Get your things.”

Jayden looked up from his bunk, confusion and concern etching lines across his face. He glanced from Damian to the warder and back again. His eyes widened slightly as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Damian’s heart pounded in his chest. His mind raced. This was unexpected. Impossible. But at the same time… it was the opportunity he had been waiting for, the sudden crack in the walls of his confinement.

“What’s going on?” he wondered silently, his mind racing. He had not been brought before anyone for a release. Nothing in the routine had suggested this was coming. What could it mean?

The questions swirled through his head like a storm, but there were no answers. Only the grim certainty that he had to act, to move, to follow this unexpected chance wherever it led.

He rose from his bunk, his body stiff from days of inactivity. He had nothing to gather—no personal items, no possessions of value, nothing that could slow him down. His hands hovered over the few things in the cell, but he knew they were unnecessary.

With a cautious glance at Jayden, who still watched him with a mixture of confusion and concern, Damian stepped forward. He did not speak. Words would not clarify this sudden turn of events, and questions could wait.

The warder’s eyes were sharp, unyielding, fixed on him like a predator waiting for a misstep. Damian met that gaze only briefly before lowering his head and following silently.