Forced
1162 Words
The plane’s descent jolted Amara from the edge of a strange, murky sleep. Her limbs felt heavy, her mind foggy, as though something more than exhaustion weighed her down. She remembered falling asleep in the car, lulled by the long drive and unfamiliar silence.
Whatever had been done to her, it hadn’t been obvious, perhaps slipped into her system after she drifted off. Not enough to knock her out completely, but enough to keep her pliant.
The pressure in her ears shifted, the low whir of the engines dulling as the aircraft made contact with the runway.
A smooth, calculated landing.
Her fingers curled weakly against the leather seat beneath her. The cabin lights had dimmed, casting the space in a muted glow, a low voice reaches her ears.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Male.
She wasn’t sure what he was saying at first, his words a quiet hum in the background. The language curled off his tongue in effortless command, deliberate. She couldn’t see him yet, but the way the others responded told her enough.
He was the one in charge.
The ice clinked softly against glass. The scent of whiskey drifted through the air, mingling with the faint traces of leather and something darker.
He was waiting.
Watching.
Her breath hitched as she forced her body upright, limbs sluggish from whatever they had given her. Her vision blurred for a moment before sharpening, adjusting to the dim lighting of the cabin.
Then, she saw him.
He was draped casually in the seat across from her, one arm resting against the armrest, the other holding a glass that caught the faint glow of the overhead light.
Dark clothing, expensive and tailored, framed his lean, powerful build. There was something dangerous about the way he carried himself.
His face was unreadable. Handsome in a way that felt effortless, detached. The sharp angles of his jaw, the shadow of stubble along his chin, the dark sweep of his hair all added to the quiet intensity that radiated from him.
But it was his eyes that held her breath captive.
He was studying her.
Amara swallowed, her pulse hammering against her ribs, but she didn’t speak. She wouldn’t be the first to break the silence.
Then, finally, he did.
“You’re awake.”
The words were simple, but there was something in the way he said them that made her skin prickle.
She wet her lips, forcing down the dryness in her throat. “Who...”
“Lorenzo Valentio.” He didn’t move, but she felt the weight of his presence press in around her. “That name will mean something to you soon.”
A slow, deliberate movement. He set the glass down on the table beside him, then reached for a bottle of water and held it out to her.
“Drink,” he said. “It’ll help.”
She stared at the bottled water.
Lorenzo watched her in silence, a hint of amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Finally, she reached for the bottle from Lorenzo hand, her fingers brushing against the cool surface. She lifted it to her lips and took a slow, measured sip, not because she trusted him, but because she needed to think clearly.
A deep chuckle rumbled from him.
“Cautious. Good.” His voice was smooth, edged with something unsettling. “You’ll need that.”
She set the bottle down carefully.
Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. The dim light cast sharp shadows along his jaw, accentuating the cold precision of his features.
The moment the plane came to a full stop, the doors unlocked with a soft mechanical hiss.
Lorenzo stood. “Time to go.” he said, as if the answer should soothe her.
It didn’t.
She swallowed down the unease clawing up her throat. “What do you want from me?”
“All in good time, amore.”
The term of endearment felt like a mockery.
Amara swallowed hard, her body slow to obey as she shifted against the restraints. She wanted to fight, to resist. But what was the point? There was nowhere to run.
Beside, anything is better than marrying Basille Moretti.
Lorenzo reached for her before she could attempt to stand on her own.
She jerked away, glaring up at him. “I can walk.”
His lips curled into something resembling amusement, but he let her go. “Then walk.”
A sleek black car awaited them. Two men in suits stood beside the vehicle, their gazes empty, professional.
Lorenzo’s hand ghosted over the small of her back, guiding her forward. The touch was brief, impersonal, but it sent a shiver through her.
“Welcome home, amore,” he murmured as he opened the door for her.
Amara froze.
Panic clawed its way up her throat. “Where, where are you taking me?” She jerked away from his grip.
The guards shifted at her sudden movement, their footsteps alerting her that they were ready to catch her if she ran.
“You can’t do this to me!” Her voice cracked. “Please, I beg you! I don’t know anything!”
Lorenzo studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, with the smallest flick of his wrist, he signaled his men to stand down.
He knew. Even if she ran, he could get her back.
“I should have let you stay asleep until we arrived,” he mused. His tone wasn’t cruel, just practical.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Amara,” he added. “You should know that.”
Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. “This is wrong.”
She stepped back, but the heavy dress tangled around her feet. Running would be impossible.
Her mind raced. If this was about ransom, her father would pay, wouldn’t he? But if it was something else… human trafficking, torture, execution...
Her vision blurred at the edges.
“I understand, amore.” Lorenzo’s voice was almost gentle. “Let’s make this easy for you.”
He signaled to the man beside him.
“Do it, Rodrigue.”
Amara barely had time to react before she recognized him.
The same man with the steely glint in his eyes, the one who had been there when they first tore her away from her wedding reception room.
Recognition sent a fresh wave of panic crashing through her, but it was too late.
A second figure moved behind her, swift and precise. Before she could twist away, a cloth pressed against her mouth. The sharp, acrid scent burned her lungs instantly.
She thrashed, clawing at the hands restraining her, but Rodrigue’s grip was ironclad. The more she fought, the more the drug seeped into her system, her limbs growing sluggish, her vision tilting.
Her struggles weakened and Rodrigue lifted her effortlessly, carrying her towards the waiting vehicle.
By the time the seatbelt clicked into place around her, darkness had already consumed her.
- Writer
