Prologue

[Author's POV]

There she is—in the bathroom, hiding from her mother who’s banging on the door, furious once again. And all because Rosalie asked if she could go out.

It’s always the same. Every time she dares to ask, her mother snaps. The scolding turns into screaming, and if Rosalie doesn’t back down quickly enough, it gets physical.

The loud thuds against the door echo through the small space, and there she is—shivering, knees drawn to her chest, too scared to move.

[Rosalie's POV]

Why? Why do I have to go through this?

One moment she’s gentle, even loving, and the next—this. Like I’ve betrayed her just by wanting a little freedom.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Mom,” I whisper, voice cracking. “P-please stop… I—I won’t do it again.”

But she doesn’t stop.

“How many times have I told you not to ask me these things? Why are you so rebellious? I give you everything in this home, so why? Why??”

Her voice breaks on the last word, loud and shaking with rage.

And maybe she’s right. She has given me things… food, clothes, a roof. But none of that makes it a home. This isn’t a home. It’s just a house made of bricks, filled with fear.

“I p-promise I won’t do it again,” I sob. “Just please… st-stop…”

[Author's POV]

And just like that, her voice fades.

She’s fainted. Again.

Just like last time.

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[Author's POV]

The thick canopy above blocks out most of the moonlight, casting the forest in near complete darkness. The only sound is the harsh, rhythmic pounding of feet against the uneven earth—his breath ragged and desperate, and the distant rustling of branches as he brushes past them. The air smells of damp leaves and pine, the cold moisture seeping into his clothes, making him feel heavier with every step. His legs are weak, muscles screaming in protest as they start to buckle beneath him, but still, he runs. Every snap of a twig, every crackling sound behind him feels like a threat, but he knows it’s inevitable. The forest has already begun to swallow him whole, and it’s only a matter of time before they catch up.

He stumbles, his foot catching on a root, and crashes into the ground. The cold earth bruises his palms, but he barely feels it—the panic is consuming him. His breath is shallow, chest tight, as he tries to push himself back up. The night is suffocating, the weight of it pressing down on him like a vice.

[Sébastien’s POV]

I can hear it—the shallow gasps of his breath. The soft thud of his feet hitting the forest floor. The terror is unmistakable. It’s like a siren call, pulling me in closer. Fear in someone’s eyes is an intoxicating thing. It gets under my skin, makes my blood rush faster. And when I finally get my hands on him—when I make him feel the weight of his betrayal—it’ll be everything he deserves.

I push through the trees, the scent of pine and wet earth growing stronger. The moonlight fights its way through the gaps in the trees, casting eerie shadows across the path. He’s close. So close.

I stop just as he falls. His body hits the dirt with a wet thud, and he barely manages to push himself up before his legs give out again. His hands shake, dirt smeared across his face, eyes wide with panic. But none of it matters. Not to me.

The man looks up at me, eyes pleading for mercy, but mercy is a luxury I don’t afford. I glance at my men, already circling him like vultures. I signal them with a subtle movement. They know what to do.

He reaches for my leg, his desperation growing with each passing second. His fingers scrape my jeans, and I feel the fabric tear beneath his touch. A sense of irritation flickers in me. That was my favorite pair. I lean down, giving him one last look of disdain before I kick his hand away, hard. He’s nothing but an inconvenience now.

“I don’t do mercy,” I mutter. The cold air around us seems to freeze as the night stretches on, thick with tension. Tonight, there will be no end to this.

Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for reading the prologue of His Only Exception. This story means a lot to me—it’s a mix of everything I love writing: raw emotion, intense characters, dangerous choices, and the kind of love that changes everything.

Sébastien and Rosalie’s journey will be far from easy. It’s messy, painful, passionate—and full of secrets that could break them before they even begin. But I promise, every chapter will bring you closer to the truth behind their hearts.

If you connected with this chapter, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Your support, even a simple heart or word, means more than you know and keeps me going. 💬❤️