Chapter One: The Predator’s Game
836 Words
The first thing Aria Vale noticed was the silence.
Not the kind that meant peace—but the kind that smothered. A rich, oppressive stillness that wrapped around her like velvet over a noose.
Her eyes opened slowly, vision adjusting to low golden light. A massive crystal chandelier hung overhead. Her body ached—wrists sore, limbs heavy. She wasn’t in her apartment. This bed was too soft. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood, expensive cologne, and something darker.
Her fingers twitched against cool silk sheets. She sat up, heart pounding.
This wasn’t a hospital.
It was a prison dressed in elegance.
Marble floors stretched across the room. High windows let in a moody haze of afternoon light through sheer curtains. Across the room: double doors, closed. A minimalist fireplace, unlit. Everything was sleek, masculine, silent.
She tugged at her wrist. A thin steel cuff gleamed against her skin, attached to a retractable chain bolted to the corner of the bed.
Her breath caught.
A leash.
Panic flared, but she swallowed it. Stay calm. Think.
The last thing she remembered: leaving the coffee shop near the courthouse. She’d been following a lead—about missing girls, offshore money, blood on clean hands. About him. The name she’d been chasing for six months. Lucien Rivas.
Then—pain at her neck. A prick. A shadow. Nothing.
Until now.
She swung her legs over the bed and stood, feeling the weight of the chain tug with her movement. The cuff allowed her to move a few feet from the bed. Just enough to stand, to pace. Not enough to reach the doors. Not enough to escape.
She tested the chain again, jaw tight.
The bastard had caged her.
The door clicked.
She spun around, heart stuttering.
He entered without hesitation, like he owned the space. Tall, lean, clad in tailored black. His eyes were cool and unreadable, the color of onyx under storm clouds. Hair dark, swept back. Clean-shaven jaw cut like stone. And that presence—commanding, cold, unapologetic.
Lucien Rivas.
The man her articles had painted as a ghost, a criminal mastermind, the devil in custom Italian shoes.
He was real.
And he was standing ten feet away from her with no mask, no pretense.
“Aria Vale,” he said, voice smooth, rich with a dangerous lilt. “Finally awake.”
She stiffened, hands clenched at her sides. “Where the hell am I?”
“My home. For now.”
“You drugged me.”
“I relocated you.”
“You abducted me,” she snapped, stepping toward him until the chain yanked her back. Her fury made her bold. “You’ve made a mistake.”
Lucien arched a brow. “Have I?”
“I don’t scare easy.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, stepping closer. “That’s what fascinates me.”
He moved like a predator—smooth, patient, sure. She watched every step, refusing to flinch as he stopped within arm’s reach. He studied her, his gaze lingering at her lips, down her throat, over the fire in her eyes.
“I’ve read every word you’ve written about me,” he said softly. “You called me a monster. A butcher. A myth.”
“You are.”
Lucien tilted his head. “And yet you hunted me anyway.”
“I report the truth.”
“No,” he said. “You provoke. You seduce danger with your arrogance.”
Her blood boiled. “I don’t seduce anything.”
“Don’t lie,” he murmured, stepping closer until she felt the heat of his body. “Your eyes are always daring someone to come closer. I accepted the invitation.”
Her breath hitched. Her body betrayed her with a thrill of adrenaline that curled low in her stomach. No. Not him. Not like this.
“You’re insane,” she whispered.
“I’m intrigued.”
He reached out. She jerked back.
He laughed quietly and didn’t touch her again.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Aria,” he said, walking slowly past her. “But I also won’t let you go.”
“Why?” Her voice cracked. “What do you want?”
Lucien stopped at the window, gazing at the skyline.
“You wrote once that monsters don’t live in shadows,” he said. “That they wear suits. Smile on television. Shake hands with judges.”
He turned to face her, and this time there was no smile.
“You were right.”
He walked toward the door, hand on the handle.
“You’re not leaving here until I decide you’re mine.”
Aria surged forward, the chain jerking her back violently. She stumbled.
Lucien didn’t turn. He just smiled, cold and satisfied.
“You’ll fight me. Good. That’s what makes it interesting.”
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
Aria stood shaking, fists clenched, blood roaring in her ears.
She would not break.
But the first c***k had already formed.
- Writer
