Chained By Faith

CHAPTER TWO: THE DEBT

Isabella's POV

I've counted the security cameras: three in this room alone; corners positioned for maximum coverage, small and discreet, but could be discovered once you patiently stared at it. I've watched the patrol patterns of the guards below, noting how they circle the grounds every seventeen minutes. I've tested every window, every door, mapped the layout of what I can see of the estate.

Three hours. Three hours of pacing and planning and feeling my fear crystallize into something harder, sharper.

Rage.

The door opens at last, and I am ready for him.

Damien Blackwood walks into the room like he owns the world, which, judging by the evidence surrounding me, he probably does. Impeccably attired, his charcoal suit most likely costs more than my annual salary; white shirt open at the collar, sans tie. His dark hair is perfectly styled, and those ice-blue eyes I have heard about find mine immediately with focus, as though I am the only thing in the room that matters, that he can see right through me.

I don't give him a chance to speak.

"You have no right." My voice was firm despite the fact that my hands were shaking. "No right to drug me, to bring me here, to lock me in this room like some kind of—"

"Isabella—"

"Don't." I cut him off, my anger rising. "Don't say my name like we're friends. Like you didn't have your men kidnap me. Do you understand what you've done? Do you have any concept of how illegal this is?"

He doesn't interrupt again, just leans against the doorframe with one shoulder, arms crossed, watching me with a calm look which fuels my anger.

"I have a life! I have a job--patients depending on me, shifts I'm supposed to work. I have an apartment, bills to pay, a cat that needs feeding!" My voice rises despite my best efforts to subdue it. "Mrs. Chen next door waters my plants when I'm on night shifts. My supervisor is probably calling my phone wondering where the hell I am. Did you even think about that? Or do people just not matter to you?

Still, he says nothing. Just watch.

"I saved someone's life." I pace now, unable to stand still. "I saw a man bleeding in an alley and I helped because that's what people do. That's my job—saving lives. And this is how you repay me? By destroying mine?"

And the words keep coming, three hours of terror and helplessness pouring out in a torrent I can't seem to stop. I tell him about the sedative, how violation feels when it's delivered with precision. I tell him about waking up disoriented and afraid. I tell him that no amount of silk sheets and ocean views makes this anything other than what it is: imprisonment.

"I will go to the police," I say, hearing the shake in my voice, and hating it. "The second you let me out of here, I will report you for kidnapping, imprisonment, assault—"

"You won't."

His voice is quiet, yet it had the ability to keep me calm Two words, spoken with absolute conviction.

"Watch me," I spit back. "You think your money protects you from everything? There are laws, there are systems—"

"There are." He nods, having a calm expression on his face. "And they're useless against the people who want you dead."

The casual way he says causes a chill to run down my spine . “Want you dead.” Like he's discussing the weather. Like my murder is an inevitable fact he's simply managing.

"You're insane," I whisper.

"Just stating facts." He pushes off from the doorframe, taking a single step into the room. I immediately step back, keeping distance. He notices and stops. "Three weeks ago, you saved Adrian's life in that alley. My second-in-command. The man I trust more than anyone in this world."

"I didn't know who he was. I just saw someone who needed help."

His mouth quirks, almost a smile, but not quite. "I know. That's what makes you dangerous to them. And what makes you valuable to me."

"I'm not valuable to you. I'm not anything to you." My hands are shaking again. I clench them into fists. "Let me go. Right now. Or I swear—"

"You'll what?" He inclines his head inquiringly, interested to see just what I will say.

"Scream? The staff won't intervene. Run? The estate is forty acres, and every exit is monitored. Call for help? Your phone was left at your apartment. You have no way to contact anyone."

Every word struck my chest hard, fracturing the hope to which I've been clinging on.

"This can't be legal. Someone will notice I'm missing—"

"Your supervisor received a call this morning from a family member explaining you had a personal emergency and needed time off. Your rent is being paid. Your cat is being fed by a very kind neighbor who was told you're helping a sick relative out of state." He delivers these facts with the same calm precision. "No one is looking for you, Isabella. Because as far as the world is concerned, you're exactly where you're supposed to be."

The room spins. He thought of everything. Covered every base. Erased me from my own life with the efficiency of someone who has done this before.

"You can't do this." But my voice has lost its strength, and we both hear it.

"I do." He takes another step closer and this time I don't back away. I'm too tired, too drained. "I understand why you're angry. Were the situations reversed, well, I'd be pretty angry myself. But you have to understand something."

He's close enough now that I can see the intensity in those ice-blue eyes, and it makes it hard to breathe.

"When you saved Adrian's life, you created a debt. In my world, debts matter. They're binding, sacred almost. Adrian is not just my right hand, he's my brother in everything but blood. What you did for him, you did for me." His jaw clenches. "But more than that-that act of mercy marked you. My enemies know about you now. They've identified you, Isabella. They know your name, where you live, where you work. They know you're the reason Adrian survived, which means you're connected to me.”

Somewhere beneath my rage and fear, a terrible understanding starts to spring forth. He might actually believe he is saving me.

"I hate you," I whisper.

"I know." He turns toward the door, then pauses.

"Dinner is at seven. Adrian will be joining us. You're welcome to be there or eat here. The choice is yours."

"That's not a choice."

"No," he agrees in a quiet tone. "But it's the only one I can give you right now."

Then he's gone and I am alone with an ocean view and cameras, and the weight of a debt I never asked for.