Evangeline

Chapter 3. Two Choices

The sedan glided through the darkness, the engine hum a low, vibrating drone that seemed to thrum straight through Mia's bones. The drive was long- agonizingly, exhaustingly long. The city of Silveridge faded into a distant, smoldering glow in the rearview mirror, replaced by winding, tree-lined roads that climbed higher into the isolated hills.

​Every muscle in Mia's body was locked tight. Her eyes, wide and strained in the dim interior light of the car, refused to close. Sleep was a luxury she couldn't afford; sleep required trust, and she trusted nothing in this vehicle. On her right, Dominic- his striking blonde hair catching the faint light from the dashboard, his blue eyes gleaming with an unnerving intensity, shifted closer. His perfect, handsome features twisted into another slow, predatory smirk. He leaned his shoulder against hers, his breath hitching slightly as he tilted his head toward her. On her left, Malachi sat rigid, his pointed facial features sharp with agitation, his piercing green eyes darting between Dominic and Mia like a cornered animal.

​Mia pressed herself as flat as she could against the leather seat, her bound wrists aching, her throat raw from her muffled screams. She kept her eyes open, fighting the heavy, crushing weight of exhaustion. If she let her guard down for even a second, she knew those wandering hands would return.

​Finally, the car slowed, turning past a massive, wrought-iron gate that bore a subtle, embossed crest: a single, stylized crow.

​They rolled up a long, heated concrete driveway, the headlights cutting through the gloom to reveal a monolithic structure. The mansion was immense, a sprawling masterpiece of minimalistic, high-end architecture. It was all sharp angles, stark white concrete, and floor-to-ceiling glass walls that reflected the dark woods surrounding it. It looked less like a home and more like a high-security compound.

​The car stopped. The heavy doors clicked open, and the cold night air rushed in.

​"Home sweet home," Richie's voice carried from the front of the SUV parked just behind them. He stepped into the light of the driveway, his brown hair neatly combed, his sharp brown eyes raking over the property with an unmistakable gleam of ownership. His hard-edged face tight with a proud, calculating grin, he adjusted his cuffs and gestured toward the massive structure. "Three hundred thousand square feet of pure, unadulterated luxury. Custom imported marble, heated floors, and a security system that costs more than a small island. Every single penny accounted for, laundered, and perfectly clean. Beautiful, isn't it?"

​"Shut up, Richie. No one cares about your spreadsheets," Kane growled, stepping out of the passenger seat. His sharp-edged, ruthless face looked terrifying under the stark security lights. He didn't waste a second. He ripped the back door open, reached in, and hauled Mia out by her waist.

​Mia let out a sharp, muffled gasp through the tape as she was violently hoisted into the air. Once again, she was flipped upside down, her stomach pressing hard against Kane's dense, unyielding shoulder. Her black hair cascaded over her face, her eyes wide with panic as she watched the ground move beneath them.

​"Careful with the cargo, Kane," Dominic purred, stepping out of the car and running a hand through his blonde hair. "She's fragile."

​"She's a pain in the ass," Kane snapped, walking toward the grand entrance with heavy, deliberate strides.

​As they crossed the threshold into the immense, minimalist foyer, Luke strolled past them, his rounded, soft facial features pulled into a lazy grin as he tossed his toothpick onto the pristine marble floor. "Hey, if we're keeping her, does that mean she cooks? Because the takeout from downtown is starting to taste like cardboard."

​"Too much work," Blake mumbled from the back of the group, his blonde hair messy, his rounded face practically glowing with sleepiness as he slumped onto a sleek leather bench in the foyer, his green eyes already half-closed. "Just... put her somewhere quiet."

​"August," Richie said, ignoring his brothers as he walked alongside Kane, his hard face serious. "We need to log her into the system if she's staying. Food costs, space allocation, risk assessment-"

​"Not now, Richie," August's voice cut through the chatter like a frozen blade. He stepped into the foyer, his perfect facial structure completely unmarred by the long night, his black hair catching the stark overhead lights. His bright blue eyes locked onto Kane. "Take her upstairs. Toss her into one of the guest rooms in the east wing until we figure out what to do with her. I don't want to hear her, and I don't want to see her until morning."

​"Got it," Kane muttered.

​He carried Mia up a sweeping, floating staircase, down a long, white corridor that felt entirely devoid of life, and kicked open a heavy mahogany door. Without a shred of gentleness, he dropped her onto a large, minimalist platform bed. The impact made her bounce, her bound ankles knocking together painfully.

​Kane looked down at her, his brown eyes cold, ruthless, and entirely dead to her terror. "Stay put. Try anything stupid, and I'll make sure you regret it."

​He stepped back, slammed the door shut, and the heavy click of a digital lock echoed through the room.

​An hour passed. Then two.

​Mia lay on her side, her heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against her ribs. The room was dark, illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the massive window. The black duct tape was still sealed tightly over her lips, pulling painfully at the skin around her mouth. Her wrists and ankles were numb from the tight adhesive, a prickling, painful pins-and-needles sensation spreading through her fingers. Panic, cold and suffocating, clawed at her throat. She was entirely trapped. Her mind raced back to her home city, to the life she had fled, and now- this. She had run from one nightmare straight into a den of monsters. Tears blurred her vision, soaking into the mattress beneath her head.

​Suddenly, the electronic lock beeped.

​The door swung open, and the bright light from the hallway flooded the room. Mia flinched, pulling her knees closer to her chest as a tall silhouette stepped inside.

​August Crowe strolled into the room. He didn't look angry; he looked entirely bored, as if dealing with her was an annoying chore on a long to-do list. He looked down at her, his bright blue eyes tracking her bound form, and paused. He rolled his eyes, a faint, irritated sigh escaping his lips.

​"Kane is a meat-head," August muttered, his voice smooth, cold, and dripping with annoyance. "Only does what he's told and never reads between the lines. I told him to put you in a room, not leave you wrapped up like a Christmas present."

​He walked over to the bed, his movements fluid and entirely confident. He reached down, his large hand gripping the edge of the tape over her mouth. "This is going to hurt."

​Before Mia could prepare herself, he ripped the tape off in one brutal, swift motion.

​Mia let out a sharp, ragged cry of pain, the skin around her lips burning like fire. She immediately began coughing, drawing in huge, desperate gulps of air. August didn't wait; he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, silver pocketknife, and with a terrifyingly steady hand, sliced through the tape binding her wrists and then her legs.

​The moment her limbs were free, Mia scrambled backward, scrambling across the mattress until her back hit the heavy wooden headboard. She pulled her knees to her chest, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as she stared at him, her blue eyes wide with unadulterated panic.

​August slowly closed the knife, slipping it back into his pocket. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over her, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his tailored pants.

​"What's your name?" August asked. He wasn't yelling, but there was an icy, demanding edge to his tone that made it clear compliance was his only rule.

​Mia swallowed hard, her throat feeling like sandpaper. She shrank back further against the headboard.

"M-Mia," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

​"Do you have family, Mia?" he asked, his blue eyes drilling into hers, looking for any sign of a lie.

​Mia's jaw tightened slightly, her inherent intelligence fighting through the fog of terror. She let out a shaky, defensive breath. "That's a bit of a loaded question. We all have a family."

​August's eyes narrowed slightly, his perfect face hardening. He took a slow step closer to the bed, radiating an untouchable, dangerous gravity. "Don't play word games with me, girl. I am not in the mood. Let me restate the question so your small mind can grasp it. Do you have people who know your location, or who are close to you, who would miss you? Anyone who is going to call the police when you don't show up for your work tomorrow? Or come home tonight?"

​Mia huffed, a flicker of bitter reality cutting through her panic. She looked down at her hands, which were still red and marked from the tape. "No. I just moved here two months ago. I don't... I don't have anyone here."

​August clicked his tongue, a cold, mocking sound that offered absolutely no sympathy.

"Tough." He adjusted his jacket, looking down at her as if he were delivering a weather report. "You have two options, Mia. Be a maid, or death."

​Mia gaped at the man, her heart stopping completely. She stared at his perfect, handsome face, looking for any hint of a joke, any sign of hyperbole. But there was nothing. His blue eyes were as dead and cold as the deep ocean. Her mind flashed back to the shipping docks- the massive crowbar breaking the lock, the crates of military rifles, the brick-sized packages of white powder, the casual way Kane had talked about snapping her neck.

​He was deadly serious. If she said no, she would never leave this house alive.

​"Maid," Mia murmured, her voice trembling as she forced the word past her lips. She hated how weak she sounded, but she knew she couldn't fight this man. She couldn't fight any of the seven Crowe brothers. Survival meant playing their game, at least for now.

​A faint, chilling smile touched the corner of August's lips.

"Glad to hear. I'd hate to waste a bullet on a pretty thing." He turned on his heel, heading toward the open door. "Follow me. Don't try to run, you're being watched. Every inch of this property is monitored, and my brothers are lighter sleepers than they look."

​Mia didn't hesitate. Fear propelled her off the bed, her legs shaking so violently she nearly tripped over her own feet. She smoothed down her wrinkled white dress, her hands trembling as she quickly followed him out into the bright, stark corridor.

​She kept exactly three paces behind him, her eyes fixed on the back of his dark head. The mansion was dead silent, the minimalist walls stretching out like a labyrinth. She felt invisible eyes on her from the dark corners, the sheer panic of her situation making her breath catch in her throat with every step.

​August led her down a secondary staircase, deep into the lower levels of the eastern wing, away from the grand marble foyer. The luxurious finishes faded into simpler, more utilitarian concrete and plain drywall.

​He stopped at a plain white door at the end of the hall, raising his hand and knocking once, a sharp, metallic sound.

​A few seconds later, the door clicked open. An older woman with graying hair, dressed in a sharp, dark gray uniform, stood in the doorway. Her eyes softened slightly as she looked at Mia's disheveled appearance, but she quickly masked it, looking up at August with rigid respect.

​"These are the maids' quarters," August stated, his voice completely indifferent as he stepped aside, exposing Mia to the woman. "Sheila, show Mia the basics in the morning. She will be on cleaning duty from now on."

​"Of course, Master August," Sheila replied smoothly, her voice calm and practiced.

​With that, August turned around without another word, his long, deliberate strides carrying him away down the corridor until his silhouette vanished into the upper levels of the house.

​Sheila looked at Mia, her expression a mix of pity and stern warning. She reached out, gently but firmly grasping Mia's arm, and ushered her inside the small, neatly kept room.

​"Come inside, child," Sheila whispered, closing the heavy door behind them and locking it with a sharp click. "You're safe from them in here tonight. But tomorrow... tomorrow your new life begins."

​Mia collapsed onto the small twin bed in the corner, the sheer, crushing weight of the night finally breaking her as she buried her face in her hands, her body shaking with silent, terrified sobs.