Isabella’s POV
I turned around sharply, breath catching. My arms wouldn’t move. Panic crept in as I struggled — wrists bound, legs spread, ankles suspended and tied high above my head. What the hell?
How did he get to me?
I had escaped. I remembered the plane. The jet lifting off from L.A., the city disappearing into the clouds. I am in New York now. Safe.
So how the f**k was I tied up again?
A hundred thoughts spiraled in my mind, each one more frantic than the last — but they all stopped cold at the unmistakable crack of leather slicing the air.
A hiccup escaped my lips. My wide, terrified eyes locked onto the silhouette, stepping into the light. Damien Voss.
No. No, this couldn’t be real.
His voice was low, smooth, like silk dipped in poison.
“You didn’t think you could run w
