Chapter 2
951 Words
I woke up with my neck hurting and my body feeling like it got hit by a truck.
The penthouse was quiet, very quiet. Morning light came through the big windows, but it didn't make me feel any better. I sat up slowly on the couch, the blanket falling to my waist. My cuts stung, my head felt heavy.
Damien wasn't in the living room, that was the first thing I noticed.
I looked around, heart already beating faster, for a second I thought maybe he left me alone. But then I heard low voices coming from down the hallway. His voice and some other men.
I stood up quietly, my legs still weak. I moved closer to the hallway but stayed hidden behind the wall, listening.
"...she's here. Yes. No, I haven't decided yet," Damien said. His voice was cold. "Tell the others if anyone comes near this building, they're dead. No exceptions."
My stomach dropped.
*Decided what?* Whether to kill me or not?
I pressed my back against the wall, breathing shallow. This man had pulled me out of a shooting, brought me to his fancy prison, and now he was talking about me like I was some kind of problem to solve.
I heard footsteps coming closer, I quickly moved back to the couch and sat down, trying to look like I just woke up. Damien appeared at the end of the hallway. He was already dressed in a fresh black shirt and pants. His hair was still a little messy, like he didn't sleep much.
He stopped when he saw me.
"You're awake," he said. No good morning. No smile. Just that same flat tone.
I nodded. My throat felt dry. "I want to go home."
He walked over to the kitchen island and poured a glass of water. He brought it to me without saying anything. I took it but didn't drink right away.
"You can't go home," he said finally. "Not yet."
"Why not?"
He leaned against the island, arms crossed, watching me. "Because the people who tried to kill you last night aren't finished. They know you're with me now. That makes things... complicated."
Complicated?. That word made me feel even more scared.
I took a sip of water, my hands shaking a little. "Who are these people? Why do they want me dead? I'm a nobody, I work a normal job, I pay my bills, I don't..."
"You saw too much," he cut me off. "That's enough in this world."
I stared at him. "What world?"
He didn't answer. Instead, his phone rang. He looked at the screen and his face changed. He stepped away and answered it.
"Yeah... I know. Keep them away from the building. If the Moretti family makes any move, send a message."
Moretti family.
I stored that name in my head. My mind was spinning. Mafia? Cartel? Something worse? I felt like I was in a movie I never auditioned for.
When he hung up, he came back closer.
"You're staying here until I fix this," he said. It wasn't a question.
I stood up. "You can't keep me here like a prisoner."
He stepped even closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head up to look at him. "I can and I will. Because if you walk out that door right now, you won't make it to the elevator."
My chest felt tight. I wanted to scream at him, but something in his eyes stopped me. He wasn't lying and i could feel it.
"I hate you," I whispered.
He looked at me for a long second. Something dark passed through his eyes.
"Good," he said quietly. "Hate keeps you alive."
I watched him standing there, studying me like he was deciding whether I was worth the trouble. I tried to look brave even though my hands kept trembling. He had this way of looking at me that made my skin crawl and my heart race at the same time.
His phone vibrated again. He checked it quickly, his expression hardening for a moment before he deleted whatever it was.
"You should eat something," he said, changing the subject. "I'll have food brought up."
"I'm not hungry."
"You will be."
He called down to the kitchen. While he was on the phone, I kept glancing toward the elevator, calculating. Thinking about running.
He ended the call and turned back to me.
"Sit down," he said.
I didn't move. He walked over and stood right in front of me. I could smell the faint soap from his shower on his skin.
"You're not leaving this penthouse until I say so," he told me. "Fight me if you want. It won't change anything."
My eyes flashed with anger. "Why are you doing this? Why save me if I'm just trouble?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead he said, "Because right now, you're worth more alive than dead."
His words hit me hard. I felt hurt, confused, and even more scared than before.
I sat back on the couch, my mind racing.
Damien went into another room to take another call. I could hear his voice... low, sharp, in control. Like the whole city answered to him.
I pulled my knees up to my chest. Who the hell was this man?
And why did I feel like the longer I stayed near him, the more my life was going to change forever?
I looked at the elevator again, then at the big windows, then back at the hallway where his voice kept going.
I didn't know if I should try to run...
Somewhere in the city, people I'd never met were already deciding whether I lived or died.
- Writer
