Bound to the man who owns me

Chapter Two: Property

The car smelled like leather and something clean—expensive.

Elias sat rigid in the back seat, hands cuffed in front of him, every muscle locked tight as the city lights blurred past the window. No one had said a word since they’d left the warehouse.

The man who bought him sat beside him.

Too close.

Elias could feel the heat of his body, steady and calm, like this wasn’t the most terrifying moment of Elias’s life. Like buying another human being was no more disturbing than purchasing a watch.

Elias swallowed. His throat hurt from holding back panic.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked quietly.

The man didn’t look at him right away. When he did, his gaze was sharp and assessing, as if Elias’s fear were something to be catalogued.

“My home.”

The word landed heavy.

Elias’s fingers curled around the cuffs. “And after that?”

A pause.

“That depends on you.”

His chest tightened. “I didn’t agree to this.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “No. You didn’t.”

Something in his voice—calm, unbothered—made Elias’s skin prickle. He turned his face toward the window, breathing through the sudden burn behind his eyes. He wouldn’t cry. He refused.

The car slowed.

They pulled through iron gates that opened silently, revealing a large estate hidden behind tall trees. The house itself was dark stone and glass, cold and imposing, nothing like anywhere Elias had ever lived.

The driver stopped. The door opened.

“Out,” the man said.

Elias hesitated.

The man leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only Elias could hear. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Elias stepped out.

Inside, the house was quiet—too quiet. The floors gleamed under soft lighting, every surface pristine. Elias felt painfully out of place, his worn clothes and shaking hands an intrusion.

The man removed his coat and handed it to someone who appeared from nowhere. Then he turned fully toward Elias for the first time.

“Your name,” he said.

Elias blinked. “What?”

“Your name,” the man repeated. “I don’t buy things I don’t identify.”

Elias stiffened at the word things, but he answered anyway. “Elias.”

The man studied him, eyes lingering just long enough to feel invasive. “Elias,” he echoed, as if testing how it sounded.

He reached out and took Elias’s chin between his fingers.

Elias flinched—but didn’t pull away.

“Look at me.”

Elias forced himself to meet his gaze.

“Good,” the man said softly. “You’re prettier when you don’t hide.”

Elias’s breath caught.

The man released him and straightened. “You’ll stay in the east wing. You won’t leave this house without permission. You won’t touch anything that isn’t yours.”

He paused, eyes darkening.

“And you are not to forget who owns you.”

Elias’s voice shook despite himself. “I’m not a thing.”

The man stepped closer again, towering over him now.

“No,” he said quietly. “You’re not.”

His gaze dropped, slow and deliberate, as if memorising Elias piece by piece.

“That’s what makes this interesting.”