Chapter Three: A Dangerous Proposition
419 Words
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Eleanor’s pulse thundered in her ears. The weight of his words settled over her like a noose tightening around her throat.
You won’t make it out of this city alive.
He wasn’t bluffing.
Everything about him—the calmness, the precision of his words—felt like a blade pressed to her skin. He had already decided her fate.
Her fingers curled into fists. “What do you want from me?”
The man beside her leaned back against the seat, exuding the kind of power that didn’t need to be spoken. He owned the space, the air, the very moment. His golden eyes glowed under the dim interior light of the car.
“I want you to work for me,” he said.
Eleanor scoffed, trying to mask the way her heart was racing. “That’s vague. Try again.”
A smirk. Slow. Dangerous. Like he was amused by her resistance. “Smart girl.”
He tilted his head, watching her like a predator calculating its prey’s every move.
“You have something I need,” he continued. “And I have something you want.”
Eleanor let out a humorless laugh. “And what exactly do I want?”
His smirk widened just slightly. “To stay alive.”
Silence.
It hit like a slap. A reminder that she wasn’t in control here.
She forced herself to stay calm, despite the wildfire of panic clawing at her chest. “And what if I say no?”
A beat of silence. Then, he pulled something from his pocket and held it up between two fingers.
A passport.
Her passport.
Eleanor’s blood ran cold.
How? How the hell did he get that?
Her throat tightened as he flipped it open casually, his fingers tracing over her name, her photo—her old identity.
“This isn’t you anymore, is it?” His voice was velvet and steel. “Eleanor Sinclair.”
A name she hadn’t used in years. A name she buried when she ran.
Her hands trembled. “You don’t know anything about me.”
He leaned in, so close that his breath was warm against her ear. “Sweetheart, I know everything.”
Her stomach twisted into knots.
This wasn’t just a game of power. It was a trap.
He sat back, tucking the passport away like it was nothing. Like she was nothing more than a piece in a game he had already won.
“I’ll make this simple,” he said smoothly. “You
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