Chapter 2 Bound by Shadows
840 Words
Listening to her father’s voice, Katherine scoffed, her tone laced with defiance. “Rebel? How dare I…”
“If you don’t dare, then come back to me!” Maxwell Sinclair roared over the phone, his deep voice carrying both fury and heartache.
Katherine clenched her teeth. A part of her wavered, but she bit her lip hard and forced herself to stay firm. Her voice turned cold and resolute.
“Impossible.”
The moment the word left her lips, she hung up. Tears, hot and uncontrollable, spilled down her cheeks like an overflowing river.
The taxi driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, shaking his head with a hint of sympathy. “Miss, where to?”
Wiping away her tears, Katherine took a deep breath, her mind momentarily blank. She looked outside at the unfamiliar city streets and murmured, “Westbrook.”
The driver shot her a surprised look. “Westbrook?”
Katherine caught his expression and narrowed her eyes. “What, you've never seen someone wearing Chanel go to Westbrook?” Her voice carried a sharp edge, her pride unwilling to waver.
From the moment she chose to leave the Sinclair family, she knew there was no turning back. She had to remind herself—she was no longer a wealthy heiress. From now on, she would build a new life with her own hands.
She…
The thought made her smile bitterly.
The taxi soon pulled into Westbrook—the city’s most rundown district. Dilapidated buildings lined the streets, a stark contrast to the glamorous world she had once belonged to. Katherine paid the fare and made her way to a rental office, where she found an empty loft available.
The moment she stepped inside, the musty scent of mildew filled her nostrils. She hesitated but quickly suppressed her discomfort. With determination sparkling in her eyes, she rolled up her sleeves, ready to dive into the task ahead. She got to work, sweeping away dust and grime.
Once the room was somewhat livable, she pulled a photograph from her bag and carefully stuck it on the blank white wall. She stood there, staring at it, lost in thought.
The girl in the picture was like an angel, her radiant smile as warm as the sun.
Katherine’s lips curled into a faint smile, but her eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.
Gripping her bag tightly, she turned off the dim light, locked the door behind her, and stepped outside. The darkness in the stairwell was suffocating. When she stamped her foot, the motion-sensor light remained dead. She hesitated before cautiously making her way toward the iron gate.
Just as she was about to open it—
Footsteps.
Her breath hitched. The faint sound of someone approaching sent a chill down her spine.
“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly.
Before she could react, A rough sack was pulled suddenly over her head.
“Let go of me!” she screamed, struggling frantically.
But the man holding her didn’t respond. With practiced ease, he hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
“If you move again,” he said coldly, “I’ll throw you into the ocean.”
The sheer calmness in his voice made her blood run cold.
Sure enough, Katherine swallowed her fear and went still, her heart pounding like a drum. The suffocating darkness of the sack made everything worse.
Thud!
She was tossed roughly into the backseat of a car. A sharp pain shot through her skull as a heavy slap landed on the back of her head. Her vision blurred. The last thing she heard was the sound of the car door slamming shut before everything went black.
—
The car sped out of the rundown streets of Westbrook and onto the coastal highway, heading toward the city’s outskirts. But instead of stopping in some desolate place, it pulled into a luxurious, tree-lined avenue, leading straight to a grand estate.
Inside the lavish mansion, a man sat casually on a leather sofa, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. The dim lighting accentuated the sharp lines of his features—cold, domineering, and unreadable. His tailored Armani suit fit him perfectly, exuding effortless power.
Without looking up, he flicked the cigarette ash into a tray and glanced sideways as his men carried in the sack.
His assistant, Aaron, stepped forward and met his gaze. No words were needed. The man gave a small nod, signaling his understanding.
Aaron turned to the kidnapper. “Come with me.”
The man followed obediently, carrying the sack up the grand staircase to a spacious bedroom on the second floor. He untied the sack, revealing Katherine’s unconscious form sprawled on the bed.
Aaron gave a cursory glance, confirming their target. Without another word, he pulled a check from his pocket and handed it to the man.
His expression was cold, his warning even colder.
“Not a word about this to anyone.”
The deal was done.
And the night was just beginning.
- Writer
