WHERE IS ISH ANN GRAY

CHAPTER 4.

WARNING

This story contains mature and intense themes that may not be suitable for all readers. It explores psychological trauma, obsession, manipulation, and emotional turmoil. There are scenes of emotional and physical conflict, as well as complex relationships that may be disturbing or triggering for some individuals. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you are sensitive to themes of mental distress, unhealthy relationships, and dark emotional experiences, please approach this story with caution.

Fears

He sat on the

Sofa like he owned the world, the low glow of his cigarette catching the shadows of his sharp features. Broad shoulders shifted with each deliberate movement, muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he lit another cigarette with a flick of his lighter. Smoke curled lazily around him, the faint red ember illuminating his face with a dangerous allure.with hi mask on it look like mysteriously dark God in the shadows

I hated smokers. Always have. But for some reason, watching him now, I couldn’t deny the pull. Something about the way he smoked, so casual yet commanding, made me... curious? No. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

But damn, why does he have to look so good doing it?

I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of it. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t about to sit here and fantasize about the man who had turned my life into a waking nightmare.

Then my gaze shifted to the lighter in his hand, the soft click and flame sparking an idea that sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through me.

What if I burned this place to the ground?

The thought made my pulse quicken. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right? And seeing the lighter within arm's reach only fueled the crazy plan forming in my head. Before I could stop myself, I stepped out from where I’d been hiding and marched toward him.

His eyes flicked to me, narrowing slightly.

"What are you doing here?"

His voice carried the weight of authority, low and commanding, but I didn’t falter. No way was I going to let him intimidate me.

"I want to smoke," I said, crossing my arms. The words tumbled out before I could think them through. What the hell am I even saying? I didn’t smoke. I hated smoking. But I was committed now. I wanna smack my self for the things I already But it was already said and done,

He raised a brow, studying me. His lips, visible beneath his mask, curved into a smirk that sent a ripple of irritation and something else through me. He wasn’t buying it, and yet, he didn’t call me out either. Instead, he tapped his thigh, motioning for me to sit.

"Come here," he said, his tone smooth, teasing. "I’ll give you what you want."

My breath caught, and for a moment, I froze. Was I really about to do this? Apparently, yes, because my feet moved before my brain could stop them. Slowly, I walked toward him, refusing to break eye contact. If I was going to pull this off, I’d have to play his game.

I slid onto his lap, every nerve in my body on edge. His arm snaked around my waist, holding me steady, while his free hand offered me a cigarette.

He lit it from the tip of his own, leaning in so close I could feel the heat of his breath on my face. Our noses nearly brushed, the space between us impossibly small. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as I took the cigarette between my lips, inhaling awkwardly. The smoke burned immediately, and I had no idea what to do next.

He exhaled a puff of smoke, his gaze fixed on me, amusement dancing in his eyes. Then, in one swift motion, he plucked the cigarette from my lips and leaned in closer, his mouth hovering over mine. Before I could react, he inhaled deeply, and the next thing I knew, he blew the smoke directly into my mouth.

The unexpected action made me choke, my lungs rebelling against the foreign sensation. I coughed violently, and he chuckled, his grip on my waist tightening as he steadied me.

"You don’t smoke, milady,"

he said, his voice a low rumble, thick with amusement. His fingers brushed against my skin, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

"So, what do you really want, hmm?"

His words were a challenge, his tone dripping with mockery, but there was something else there too something dark and intimate that made my skin tingle. My mind screamed at me to pull away, to shove him off and run.

But I couldn’t move. His gaze held me captive, and for a moment, I hated how my body betrayed me, how it responded to his touch and his voice. I hated how he made me feel powerless and...alive all at once.

I staggered slightly, coughing hard as I reached for his arm. My hand slipped onto his chest, my fingers clutching onto him for support. “is this smoking feels like?,” I murmured, my voice raspy between fake fits of coughing.

He stiffened, surprised by my sudden closeness, but concern quickly softened his features. “you did it wrong way that's why , ,” he said, his voice steady, and he began to rub gentle circles on my back, his touch warm and comforting.

The coughing persisted—of course, because I made sure it would. As his other hand adjusted to steady me, I felt it: the lighter in his pocket. It was right there.

My fingers grazed the edge of it, sliding the cool metal into my palm. Smooth. Swift. Naagaw ko na.

Then, with one last dramatic cough, I straightened up abruptly, shrugging off his hands like they were never invited.

“Ayoko pala manigarilyo ,” I said, flipping my hair back and stepping away, as if I’d suddenly regained clarity. “I changed my mind.”

He blinked, stunned at my sudden change of demeanor. “What's with you woman, ?”

But before he could finish, his eyes narrowed, and he pointed to his pocket. “I know you don’t smoke, so what is it?? What do you want ”

I smirked, holding the lighter loosely between my fingers. “You look good with it,” I said, lifting my chin as if challenging him. “So I just wanted to try.”

His jaw tightened. Yeah affected are we? Tsk jerk,

“It doesn’t suit you. Don’t even think about pulling a stunt like that again! Are you seducing me just now?”

Ha, ano daw?

“Wow, ha? Ang kapal mo!” I scoffed, glaring at him. “for your information, hindi kita type.”

Before he could say anything else, I spun on my heel and walked away with a triumphant smirk.

Before he could say another word, I spun on my heel and walked away with a triumphant smirk, the lighter cool in my hand. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. Not yet. Before he figured out what was off, and before mahuli ako sa kalokohan ko, I had to move. Fast.

I slipped back into my room, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a war drum. Each beat reminded me of the gilded prison I was trapped in. The room was extravagant high ceilings, plush furniture, elegant walls but it was nothing more than a cage. Lavish, yes, but suffocating all the same.

And then there was him. The mask guy. My captor. Silent, unyielding, and watching me like a hawk. Every move I made. Every shallow breath I took. He was always there.

But this? This was my chance. My only shot to break free.

“f**k this,” I hissed under my breath, my voice trembling with anger and defiance. I wasn’t going to sit here and rot. Not while the walls seemed to press closer, and his presence loomed over me like a shadow I couldn’t shake.

Then I saw it the lighter. The one I had stolen from him just moments ago. The one I’d worked so hard to get. My fingers gripped it tightly as if it were the key to my salvation. A flick, and the spark came alive, the flame dancing chaotically in the dim light of the room.

The heat radiated against my skin, the small blaze casting shadows that seemed to mock me. I grabbed the nearest cloth, yanking it off the arm of the ornate couch. Without a second thought, I let the flame kiss it.

The fire caught instantly, devouring the fabric like a ravenous beast. The flames spread, crawling up the couch, then to the curtains. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once. The room transformed, the air growing thick and heavy as smoke curled through the air, invading every corner.

But I hadn’t thought this through.

The smoke hit me like a wave thick, suffocating, relentless. It clawed at my throat, my lungs, burning every inch of me from the inside. Each breath was a struggle, the acrid fumes turning my vision hazy and my legs unsteady.

"No..." The word barely escaped my lips, a hoarse whisper drowned in the chaos around me. My knees buckled, and I stumbled back, my fingers brushing against the wall for support. The fire was consuming everything, the heat unbearable, searing my skin even from a distance.

The room spun, and for the first time, I felt it fear. Not just anger, not just rebellion, but raw, unfiltered fear.

The thick, suffocating smoke swirled around me, stinging my eyes, burning my throat. I coughed violently, trying to get just one clear breath, but it was useless. My vision blurred as the air in the room became unbreathable. The fire I started to distract them, my only desperate shot at escaping, was now turning against me. The plan was backfiring.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. The heat pressed against my skin, my lungs screaming for air. I crawled, dragging myself toward where I thought the door was, but I couldn’t tell anymore. Everything was fading. Darkness crept at the edges of my vision, and my body felt heavy so heavy.

Then... a pair of strong arms lifted me, dragging me away from the inferno. Through half-closed eyes, I saw glimpses of the masked figure, his eyes piercing through the chaos. I couldn’t fight him off; I could barely keep my eyes open. The world spun around me until everything went black.

I gasped for air but found none. My body convulsed, instinctively trying to breathe, but it was like drowning without water. Panic surged through me am I dying? No, I can’t... not like this. My eyesight are blurring I Felt dizzy and soffucate by the thick smoke that swallowed the place

Suddenly, something warm pressed against my lips. At first, I thought I was hallucinating. But then, my chest heaved involuntarily, and air filled my lungs. It was foreign, forceful, but life-giving. My mind barely processed what was happening. Someone was breathing for me mouth to mouth.

Another breath filled my lungs, and I coughed violently, my eyes snapping open. The taste of smoke mixed with the scent of something else him. The masked man was hovering over me, his mask slightly lifted. His eyes were dark, focused, and for a moment, I saw a flash of something almost... desperate.

“Breathe,!! Damn it” he commanded, his voice low and urgent, almost a growl. But I was too dazed to respond. My chest ached, and my head throbbed, but air was finally flowing back into my lungs.

He pressed his mouth to mine again, forcing another breath into me, his hands gripping my face firmly but not painfully. There was nothing gentle about the way he was saving me. It was raw, almost violent in its intensity, like he couldn’t bear to let me slip away.

Finally, my lungs responded, and I sucked in a ragged breath on my own. He pulled back, his eyes scanning my face for any sign of consciousness. I coughed again, tears streaming down my cheeks from the smoke and the shock.

His eyes locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze searing into me, like he was looking straight into my soul. “Don’t you dare die on me, woman now breathe ” he muttered, his voice hushed but laced with a sharp edge of... fear?

For a moment, we stayed like that me gasping for breath, him hovering over me, his face so close I could feel his breath on my skin.

And then, just as quickly as he came to my rescue, , the cold, unfeeling facade returning. Without another word, he lifted me into his arms, carrying me out of the burning room like I was nothing more than a fragile doll.

The fire may have been my desperate attempt at freedom, but now... I was even more ensnared than before. That was impulsive move.

It felt like hours before my lungs finally caught a breath shallow, desperate but it was enough. The sweet sting of oxygen seared my throat, burning its way down to my lungs. I coughed violently, my body trembling with pain, but I was alive. Barely.

I opened my eyes, and there he was. The mask guy. He didn’t pull away, didn’t say anything, just hovered over me like a shadow I couldn’t escape. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing uneven, his posture tense. Even behind that mask, I could feel it. He was shaken. Scared.

“Ang tigas ng ulo mo!” His voice cut through the suffocating silence, sharp and angry.

“Pake mo,” I rasped, my throat raw. I weakly shoved at his chest, but I might as well have been pushing a brick wall. “I don’t need you…”

His eyes narrowed, fury flashing behind the mask. He leaned closer, his presence suffocating, his voice dripping with venom. “You don’t need me, huh? You know what you need, milady? Consequences. For your actions.”

His smirk twisted into something darker, curling at the edges like a predator who had cornered its prey. “I think I have something in mind you won’t like, milady.”

I winced, still gasping for air, my body too drained to put up a proper fight. But his words hit me like a slap, stinging and sharp. I didn’t care about his damn consequences. I cared about surviving. Yet here I was, still his prisoner, my freedom nothing more than a fleeting thought.

“You need to learn your lesson,” he continued, his voice low, dangerous. “So that next time you try something like that, I’ll make sure you never think of running away again.”

The rage bubbling inside me was enough to overpower the weakness in my body. My voice cracked, hoarse but full of venom. “You think you can control me? Sino ka ba, ha?! Anong kailangan mo sa akin?!”

I glared at him, hatred burning in my eyes. I’d tried to escape. Tried to destroy this entire damned place. But now, staring into the cold abyss of his masked face, I realized I wasn’t free. Not yet.

He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he grabbed my arm, his grip tight too tight. Like he was trying to crush more than just my wrist. Like he wanted to break my spirit, too. His silence was deafening, worse than any of his cruel words.

“Come on,” he muttered, his tone icy, his grip unrelenting.

Without warning, he yanked me forward, dragging me down the hallway. My body twisted, muscles burning as I struggled against his hold. “You can’t do this! Let go of me!”

But his grip was iron, unyielding, and the basement door loomed ahead.

The creak of the hinges sent a shiver down my spine. The darkness spilled out like a living thing, cold and suffocating. The air reeked of dampness and decay, the kind of smell that settled into your lungs and refused to leave. The walls were bare, unforgiving. This wasn’t the first time he’d dragged me down here. But tonight, for the first time, I felt the cold hand of fear clawing at my chest.

“I warned you,” he said evenly, his voice steady, void of any emotion. “But you didn’t listen.”

He shoved me forward. I stumbled, barely catching myself before falling. The heavy clang of chains filled the air, echoing in the suffocating silence. My heart sank.

“No, no, no! Please! Ayoko dito! Ayoko dito!” I screamed, thrashing as he pulled out the chains. The metal gleamed under the dim light, cold and merciless.

“You’ve made your choice,” he said, his sharp grin cutting through the darkness. He dragged the chains toward me with an almost casual ease, as though this was routine. “Now you’ll learn the consequences of your actions.”

“You heartless bastard! Wala kang puso!” My voice cracked as I kicked and twisted, trying to free myself. “Ano ba?! Ano bang kailangan mo sa akin?!”

“Dahil na sa’yo.”

“Bastard! Stop playing games with me!”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Then stop being stubborn.”

His movements were precise, efficient like he’d done this a hundred times before. The cold metal wrapped around my wrists, biting into my skin, fastening me to the wall. My arms were spread wide, leaving me completely powerless.

I tried to fight, to pull free, but it was useless. His grip was unbreakable, his resolve unshakable.

I was trapped. Again. And the hatred burning in my chest was the only thing keeping me from breaking.

"You’ll stay here until you learn how to behave," his voice grated against my nerves, the mask concealing whatever expression lay beneath. But his tone

dark, mocking cut through me. "I’m tired of you thinking you can outsmart me. This is the price you pay for your little stunt."

I glared at him, the defiance burning in my chest, even as the cold chains bit into my wrists. "You think this is gonna break me? You think doing this is gonna make me yours? Dream on." My words came out sharp, laced with venom, each syllable hurled like a dagger. "You’ll never break me. I will never be yours. Never."

He stepped closer, his eyes, shadowed by the mask, locking onto mine. The heat of his presence was suffocating, like a predator playing with its prey. He leaned down, his voice low and menacing, sending chills down my spine. "We’ll see about that."

His retreat was slow, deliberate, his boots echoing against the concrete floor as he ascended the stairs. The slam of the door reverberated through the basement, leaving me in the cold, oppressive silence. I tugged at the chains, frustration bubbling over, but it was futile. Trapped. Again.

I wasn’t broken, though. Not yet. And I sure as hell wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of watching me crumble.

The hours stretched on endlessly.

The cold metal chains clinked softly as I shifted, the damp air seeping into my skin. Hunger gnawed at me, sharp and persistent, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to acknowledge it. He wasn’t going to win, not like this.

Just as I let my head fall back against the wall, the faint sound of footsteps broke through the silence. Slow. Purposeful. The kind of steps that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

The door creaked open, and there he was his shadow stretching long into the dim basement.

He moved with maddening calm, carrying a tray like he was delivering a meal to a hotel guest. His gaze settled on me, piercing despite the mask.

"I brought you food," he said, his tone disturbingly even, devoid of the usual edge. But that only made it worse.

I scoffed, my eyes narrowing as I stared him down. "You think this will make me forget what you’ve done to me?"

He didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Instead, he placed the tray on the floor and leaned against the stairs, watching me like a hawk. "I don’t expect you to forget," he said plainly. "But I’ll make sure you stay alive. No matter how much you hate me."

The bitterness twisted inside me. I barked out a laugh, cold and hollow. "Oh, so I should be grateful now? Should I thank you for your… kindness?" My voice dripped with sarcasm, every word cutting through the tension.

He gave me a small, humorless smile as if amused by my defiance. "No, no thanks needed," he said, dragging a chair closer and sitting with maddening composure. "Although, a kiss wouldn’t hurt."

The rage flared up instantly. "Oh, right. How could I forget? You already molested my lips, asshole!" I spat, my voice sharp enough to draw blood.

He shrugged, unbothered. "Saved your stubborn life doing that. Or would you rather I let you suffocate, hmm? Ano na lang mangyayari sa’yo kung di ko ginawa?"

"Don’t pretend like you care!" I hissed, glaring daggers at him. My stomach betrayed me, growling audibly, but I ignored it. I wasn’t about to let him win.

"You have to eat," he said calmly, the steel in his voice softening just slightly. He reached for the water bottle, uncapping it with slow precision before extending it toward me. "You’ll die if you don’t. And what use would you be to me then?"

I wanted to slap the bottle away, to spit venom at him, but my throat was dry, burning. My hands trembled as I took it, my fingers brushing his briefly. The touch lingered, unwelcome, but I pushed the thought away and drank just enough to dull the ache.

"I’m not your damn property," I muttered, my voice barely audible but no less fierce. "I’ll never be that for you."

He tilted his head, studying me with unnerving intensity. "You’re mine, Ish Ann," he said quietly, the conviction in his voice sending a shiver down my spine. "From the beginning… until the end."

The words hung in the air, suffocating, as he rose to his feet. He picked up the tray with practiced ease, pausing just before the door.

"Wag na," I snapped, my voice sharp and cutting. "Ayoko nang makita yang nakamaskara mong mukha. Panget ka siguro."

He stopped, turning slightly to glance over his shoulder. The corner of his lips twitched in a slow, deliberate smirk.

"I don’t want to fast-forward anything, milady," he said, his voice low, smooth, almost mocking. "If I showed you my face now, you’d fall in love with me in a snap. And then what? I don’t want you to fall for me just because I’m… pogi."

His words left me stunned, a mix of fury and something darker churning inside me as the door slammed shut behind him.

I blinked, caught off guard by the absurdity of his statement. My lips curled into a smirk, dripping with sarcasm. "What a delusional creature you are," I shot back. "You're not pogi takot kalang Makita ko yang mukha mo, kung gwapo ka Hindi mo itatago Mukha mo, and for your information hindi kita type ."

He tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing behind his words. “I'm not your type huh, what's your type then,” he said, almost too calmly,

"Bakit ko sasabihin Sayo aber? "

"Just trying my luck ? Anyways I know your type I just want to hear my difinition in your own perspective milady I wanna hear it over and over again, "

The made my blood boil in frustration

"Sinabi ng hindi nga kita type,"

"I'm not saying anything.."

"But you are.. the audacity!! You just said it figuratively to make it look like I was just bluffing!!"

"Whatever you say then , milady..."

before stepping out of the basement. The door creaked open just a crack, letting a faint strip of light trickle in from upstairs.

For a moment, I sat there frozen, my mind racing as the silence settled in again. But this time, it wasn’t as oppressive. Anger still simmered in my chest, but something else lingered, something I didn’t like: uncertainty..

He’d left me food. He’d brought me water. He checks on me , made sure I was still alive. The mask guy wasn’t a that heartless after All but that doesn't mean he is harmless, just reminding myself to never let my guards down

After eating I can feel it's almost bedtime cause I'm sleepy

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the cold concrete beneath me. My body ached from the hard floor, the chains digging into my wrists as I shifted. The weight of the cold metal cuffs felt heavier this morning, and I groaned, trying to sit uponly to be met with an overwhelming wave of dizziness.

"What the hell...?" I muttered, blinking rapidly as the room around me came into focus.

I was still in the basement, right? But something felt... off. The usual gloominess that clung to the walls seemed to be thicker than before, almost suffocating. My head throbbed as I tried to pull myself together, but before I could even lift my hand to wipe the sweat from my forehead, I felt it.

A presence.

"I thought you were asleep," his voice came, smooth, calm too calm for my liking. The mask guy. He was standing right there, not even five feet from me, watching me struggle.

And before I could even react, he stepped forward, crouching down in front of me.

"What are you—"

My words caught in my throat as he effortlessly lifted me, his arms sliding around my back and under my knees. For a moment, my mind went completely blank. It happened too fast for me to protest. I was just... in his arms. The chains rattled as he moved me, and I instinctively tried to squirm, but it was useless. His grip was firm, unyielding.

"Let go of me!" I hissed, slapping at his chest, but it did nothing to stop him. He just continued moving, carrying me as if I weighed nothing. "What the hell is this? Let me go!"

I was still half-groggy, but the surge of anger shot through me. He had no right to carry me like this.

The silence stretched as he carried me up the stairs, the sound of our footsteps echoing against the walls. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, anger and confusion swirling inside me.