Prisoner
1226 Words
Athena’s POV
I woke up disoriented, everything feeling heavy—my limbs, my chest, my thoughts. My head throbbed like someone had driven a hammer through it, and all I could smell was expensive cologne and leather.
Two blinks. Then three. This wasn’t the dingy motel.
No, this place was... luxurious. Too luxurious. Marble floors. Velvet curtains. A chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace. I was in a massive bedroom—cold, unfamiliar, and terrifyingly beautiful.
Panic shot through me. I sat up too fast, and the world spun like a broken carousel. I groaned and held my head, trying to ground myself.
“Easy, little dove. You fainted.”
That voice.
I turned slowly, heart climbing into my throat.
Xavier Grayson. Perched in a leather armchair like a king watching his kingdom. He looked even more terrifying in the daylight—towering, powerful, every inch of him perfectly dressed in a black suit. Like he belonged in a mafia film. Or a nightmare.
I shot to the edge of the bed, heart thudding. “Where am I?”
“My home,” he said, calm as ever.
“Why am I here?” My voice cracked with a mix of fear and fury.
“Because running wasn’t an option,” he replied. “You belong to me, Athena.”
My stomach turned. “No. I don’t. I never agreed to this ridiculous engagement! You kidnapped me.”
He stood slowly, fixing his cufflinks as if my rage were background noise. “I don’t need your agreement. Your father already gave you to me.”
“I’m not a piece of furniture to be handed over.”
He didn’t even flinch. “You’re a legacy. A contract sealed in blood, power, and obligation. You don’t get to walk away from that.”
“Watch me,” I snapped, lunging for the door.
But he was faster.
Before I could even touch the doorknob, his body blocked mine, one palm slamming flat against the door beside my head.
Trapped.
“You’re spirited,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous. “But if you try that again, I won’t be gentle.”
My chest heaved with fury. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
“No,” he whispered. “That’s a promise.”
His breath brushed my cheek—warm, infuriatingly close. He was dangerous in every possible way. And worst of all?
He looked at me like I was already his.
I shoved him as hard as I could. “Get away from me!”
He stepped back, smirking. “You’ll learn respect soon enough.”
“I’d rather die.”
His eyes turned to ice. “Careful, little dove. You’re tempting fate.”
I spun away from him and ran to the window.
Bars. Of course.
The door? Locked.
No surprise there.
He didn’t move. Just stood there, watching me like I was some puzzle he was going to solve.
“You’ll stay here until I decide otherwise.”
“So I’m a prisoner now?”
“You’re my fiancée,” he corrected. “And I take what’s mine.”
I laughed bitterly. “I will never be yours.”
He smiled—slow, dangerous, devastating. “That’s where you’re wrong, Athena. You already are. You just don’t see it yet.”
Tears threatened, but I blinked them away. I would not let him win.
“Why me?” I asked through clenched teeth. “You could have anyone. Why force someone who wants nothing to do with you?”
He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Because you were promised to me. And I always take what’s mine.” His voice darkened. “If you try to run again, I’ll find you. And I’ll punish you for making that choice.”
“You’re sick.”
“I never claimed to be a good man.”
I stared at him, stunned by how casually he said that.
Was this madness?
He didn’t know me. Not really.
He didn’t know that I was a wildfire. And I would burn everything he loved until he had to let me go.
Silence stretched until he finally turned toward the door.
“You have one hour to clean up and get dressed,” he said. “You’re meeting my lawyer. The wedding’s in three weeks.”
He stepped out, locking the door behind him.
I screamed.
I grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it at the wall, watching it explode like glass shrapnel.
Then I collapsed to the floor, trembling.
Three weeks?
He was insane.
I began pacing, inspecting every corner of the room for something—anything—that could help me escape.
Cameras. Of course.
Bathroom? No windows.
The bedframe was bolted to the floor.
Hopeless.
Until I saw it.
A faint hairline crack along the edge of the full-length mirror.
My pulse quickened. I reached out with trembling fingers and felt along the edges. The frame shifted—just slightly.
A hidden door.
I pressed harder, and the mirror creaked open.
Behind it, a narrow corridor. Dark. Silent. Cold.
But it was hope.
I slipped inside, heart pounding, and let the mirror shut softly behind me.
The air smelled like dust and stone. My fingers brushed along the wall for balance. I had no idea where it led, but anywhere was better than this.
Then I heard it.
Voices.
One of them was Xavier.
The other...
My father.
“I told you to keep her under control, Jasper,” Xavier said. “She’s a handful.”
“She’s just like her mother. You’ll have to break her in,” my father said, like it was nothing.
Break me?
I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from gasping.
“Don’t worry,” Xavier replied coldly. “She’ll submit. Eventually.”
“I don’t care how you do it. But this marriage will happen. I have money tied up in this deal.”
“I don’t fail,” Xavier said.
I staggered back, numb with betrayal.
My own father—who used to hold my hand and tell me bedtime stories—had sold me. For power. For profit.
But beneath the numbness came something else.
Rage.
And that rage gave me strength.
I turned around, ready to slip back into the room and pretend like nothing had happened—but I stopped short.
A figure stood at the other end of the dark corridor.
A woman. Stunning. Elegant. Terrifying.
She was smiling like she’d been waiting for me all along.
“Tsk tsk,” she said sweetly. “Running already, little bride?”
My breath caught. “Who are you?”
She smiled wider—sharp, cruel. “Let’s just say… I’m the one who wore the crown before you.”
My blood ran cold.
“You… you were with Xavier?”
She stepped forward, her heels echoing against the stone floor. “I was. And I’ll do anything to make sure no one else takes my place.”
Her head tilted slightly, eyes glittering.
“Especially not some naive little runaway.”
Before I could move, she lifted her hand.
A syringe.
Too fast.
I felt the sting at my neck. Then darkness crashed over me.
And this time, I wasn’t sure I’d wake up in a bedroom…
Or a grave.
- Writer
