Chapter Four – His Prisoner
613 Words
The black car roared through the night like a beast unleashed.
Elena sat trapped in the back seat, her heart pounding against her ribs. Her silver dress was torn, stained with blood that wasn’t hers. She wanted to scream, to run, to wake up from this nightmare—but Adrian Moretti sat beside her, calm as a king on his throne.
Moonlight cut across his face, sharp angles and shadows that made him look less human, more myth. A devil carved from stone.
“Stop staring,” he muttered without looking at her.
Her cheeks flamed. “I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were,” he cut her off, pouring himself a drink from the crystal flask Marco had handed him. As if bullets hadn’t flown past them minutes ago. As if men hadn’t died at his hands.
Elena swallowed hard, forcing her voice steady. “Where are you taking me?”
Adrian finally turned his head, his gray eyes glinting in the darkness. “Home.”
Her chest tightened. “My home is with my father.”
“No.” His tone was final, deadly. “Your father handed you over. You’re mine now. And I don’t share what’s mine.”
Elena’s throat tightened with fury. “I’m not an object! You can’t just—”
His hand shot out, gripping her chin so hard she gasped. He leaned close, his voice low and venomous. “Careful, princess. In my world, defiance has consequences.”
She jerked away, her heart racing, but she refused to cry. If he wanted to break her, she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
The car slowed, pulling through towering iron gates. Elena’s breath caught.
The mansion loomed before her, massive and terrifying, its stone walls glowing in the moonlight like a fortress. Guards lined the driveway, bowing their heads as Adrian stepped out.
He reached back and gripped her hand again, dragging her from the car. She stumbled on the marble steps, but his hold was unyielding.
The heavy doors opened, revealing a grand hall with chandeliers, gold-trimmed walls, and staircases that spiraled like something out of a dream. Only this wasn’t a dream. It was a prison wrapped in luxury.
Adrian guided her through the hall, ignoring the stares of servants and bodyguards. He didn’t stop until they reached a massive oak door at the top of the stairs.
He pushed it open. Inside was a lavish bedroom—velvet curtains, a king-sized bed, soft rugs, and a fire burning in the hearth.
Elena’s stomach dropped. “You… you’re not putting me here.”
Adrian’s lips curved into a dark smile. “Oh, I am. From tonight, this is your room.”
Her fists clenched. “You expect me to sleep here? With you?”
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, princess. I don’t force women into my bed.” His eyes flicked over her trembling form. “They usually come willingly.”
Her cheeks flamed at the arrogance in his tone.
Adrian stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. “But make no mistake… you’re not free. You step one foot outside these gates, and I’ll drag you back myself.”
Elena’s heart pounded, torn between fury and fear.
He moved toward the door, pausing only once to glance back at her. His eyes burned into hers, unreadable, dangerous.
“Welcome home, Elena.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone in the grand, suffocating silence.
She ran to the window, yanking the curtains aside. High walls, guards with rifles, and steel gates stared back at her.
Her chest tightened.
She wasn’t a guest here.
She was a prisoner.
- Writer
