mind
1279 Words
Cold.
That was the first thing I felt.
The air bit against my skin, sharp and metallic. My head throbbed, and when I tried to move, I realized my wrists were bound tightly behind me. The rope dug into my skin with every breath.
My eyes fluttered open.
Flickering light.
Rust.
Concrete walls stained with age.
I was in what looked like an abandoned warehouse — the kind you see in crime dramas right before something terrible happens.
My pulse raced.
A single lamp hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly, casting long shadows across the floor. And right in front of me — leaning against a metal table — was him.
Zane.
Only this wasn’t the calm, graceful boy from my dreams.
This was someone else entirely.
His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms lightly dusted with bruises and scars. The faint glow from the lamp brushed his features — jaw tight, eyes cold, posture relaxed but dangerous.
He looked like he was carved from silence and steel.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, deliberate.
“Enjoying the view, Miss Lillian?”
My heart lurched. “Zane…?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “So you do know my name.”
“I—” My voice cracked. My throat was dry, my mind spinning. “Why am I here?”
He pushed off the table and walked closer, the sound of his boots echoing through the hollow space. “Let’s see…” he said, circling me slowly, “you’ve been following me for days, taking pictures, asking questions. My men thought you were a spy.”
“A spy?” I blurted out. “I’m not— I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean to stalk me?” His tone sharpened. “You don’t follow people like me out of curiosity, Miss Lillian. You follow them because you want something.”
“I don’t!” I snapped, tears of panic stinging my eyes. “I just— I thought you looked like someone I knew.”
He stopped behind me. I could feel the weight of his stare on my back. “Someone you knew… or someone you dreamed of?”
The words hit me like a slap. My breath caught.
“How do you—”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to face me again, eyes narrowing slightly — not with anger, but confusion. For a moment, I thought I saw recognition flicker there, like he was remembering something just out of reach.
But then it was gone.
He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the chair’s armrest. “I don’t like people invading my privacy. The next time you try something like this, you won’t wake up in a chair — you won’t wake up at all.”
The chill in his voice made me shiver. He was terrifying — and yet… there was something familiar in the way he said my name, something ancient and aching.
He straightened and gestured to one of his men. “Untie her.”
Scarface hesitated. “Sir—”
“I said, untie her.”
The ropes fell away. My arms tingled painfully as blood rushed back into them.
“Go home,” Zane said quietly. “And don’t follow me again.”
The days that followed were… strange.
I told myself I’d move on — pretend the whole thing never happened. But you don’t just move on from being kidn*pped by one of the most powerful heirs in the country.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that dim warehouse light swinging above me, his eyes cold and unflinching. His voice — calm, sharp, almost cruel — echoed in my mind.
> “The next time you try something like this, you won’t wake up at all.”
I should’ve been terrified. I was terrified.
And yet, somehow, curiosity still clung to me like a curse.
Classes began a week later, and the university buzzed with new energy — laughter spilling from lecture halls, chatter echoing through the corridors. I tried to blend in, to lose myself in the rhythm of normal life.
But then I saw him again.
Zane.
He was sitting two rows ahead of me in the large Economics lecture hall, a pen spinning idly between his fingers, his attention half on the lecturer, half somewhere far away.
The sight of him made my pulse stutter.
I wasn’t sure what scared me more — that he was so close, or that I couldn’t look away.
When the class ended, I stayed behind, waiting for the crowd to thin out. He rose from his seat, nodded at a friend, and walked out without glancing back. But even from behind, there was something unnervingly graceful about him — like a predator who knew he was at the top of the food chain.
I told myself to stay away this time.
And for a while, I did.
Until the night everything went wrong.
---
It was supposed to be harmless — a girls’ night out. My roommate, Eva, had dragged me to a bar off-campus, promising “just one drink.”
I wasn’t really the partying type, but I went anyway. Maybe I needed the distraction.
The music was loud, the lights dim and shifting in red and gold. Eva chatted with a group of guys at the next table while I sipped my drink slowly, scrolling through my phone.
It wasn’t long before my vision started to blur.
At first, I thought it was the lighting — the dizzy flicker of neon against the haze of smoke. But then my head began to spin, my arms heavy, my heartbeat sluggish.
“Eva…” I tried to say, but the word came out slurred.
She looked at me, startled — or pretending to be. “You okay, Lil?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but she turned away too quickly, whispering something to one of the men beside her. He smirked, nodded, and stood.
Panic clawed at my chest. Something wasn’t right.
I tried to stand, but my knees buckled. Hands caught me — not gentle ones.
“Let’s get you some air,” a deep voice murmured.
My vision flickered — the world tilting between light and shadow. I saw Eva watching, her expression unreadable as I was half-dragged toward the door.
The cold night air hit me like a wave, but it didn’t clear my head. My body felt detached, like I was floating just above myself. The man guiding me opened the door of a sleek black car and pushed me inside.
No.
I tried to resist, my hands weakly clutching the frame, but my strength was gone. My mind screamed, but my voice failed me.
And then — a sharp screech of tires.
Headlights cut through the dark. A car pulled up beside us, the engine’s growl low and menacing.
The door opened, and out stepped him.
Zane.
He didn’t say a word at first. He just stood there, eyes hard, posture tense. The man holding me froze under that gaze.
Zane’s voice was quiet — too quiet.
“I’d suggest you take your hands off her.”
The man stammered something, but before he could finish, Zane grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the car door. The sound of metal meeting bone cracked through the night.
I tried to speak, to thank him — but the words wouldn’t come. The world was spinning again, faster this time.
The last thing I saw was Zane turning toward me, his expression unreadable as he caught me before I fell.
Then — nothing.
- Writer
