Trapped in His Ring

The antique shop smelled like forgotten time—dust, cedarwood, and a hint of lavender that lingered like a memory. Raina Sins had only ducked in to escape the rain, her coffee already cold in her hand, her phone buzzing with messages she had no energy to answer. She didn’t come looking for anything. But something found her. It sat in a velvet box, hidden behind glass, as if the world had tried to lock it away. A ring—gold, old, and strangely warm to look at. The stone shimmered, not quite emerald, not quite black. It called to her in a way that made no sense. “Do you want to try it on?” the old shopkeeper asked, her voice raspy and oddly knowing. Raina hesitated. “It’s beautiful, but I’m not—” “It’s yours,” the woman interrupted gently. “It’s been waiting.” Against every instinct, Raina reached out. The moment the ring touched her skin, the room tilted. Her breath caught. The shop faded. She saw flashes—white roses in the dark, a man’s silhouette in smoke, a name whispered like a promise she never remembered making. Jaxon. She pulled back with a gasp, the ring now snug on her finger. “What is this?” she demanded, but the woman was already gone, the shop door creaking as if someone—or something—had just left. Rain lashed the windows harder. Her phone screen cracked. Every street outside the shop looked unfamiliar. And then her reflection shifted. Behind her, in the dusty mirror, stood a man in a suit—tall, cruelly beautiful, and watching her like he’d known her forever. His voice didn’t echo aloud. It echoed inside her. “You shouldn’t have worn it, Raina. But now you’re mine.”