Chapter Three – No Way Out
1084 Words
I stare at him, my mind scrambling for a way out, a loophole, a mistake in his offer. But there isn’t one.
He’s playing a game where the rules are his, and I’m just another piece on his board.
“You can’t be serious,” I breathe.
Leo tilts his head, watching me like a wolf that’s already decided its next meal. “Do I look like a man who jokes?”
No. He doesn’t.
His fingers drum against the table, slow and deliberate. The sound echoes in the silence, each tap another second stolen from me. My throat tightens as I glance toward the heavy metal door, my only exit. There has to be another way.
I lift my chin. “You think you can just—what? Keep me here forever? That’s not how the world works.”
Leo leans forward, forearms resting against his knees, his gaze pinning me in place. “You don’t understand something, little dove.” His voice is soft, almost gentle. “I am your world now.”
A shiver skates down my spine.
I shake my head, forcing down the panic rising in my chest. “Someone will come looking for me.”
“Will they?” His smirk is cruel. “Your little investigation was done in secret, wasn’t it?”
I freeze.
“Your editor didn’t know what you were working on,” he continues. “No close friends to check in. No family that gives a damn.” He leans back, spreading his arms. “Face it, sweetheart. You disappeared, and no one even noticed.”
My stomach twists. No. That’s not true. It can’t be true.
“Someone will come,” I whisper, but my voice betrays me.
Leo’s smirk deepens. He’s already won, and we both know it.
I grit my teeth. Think, dammit. There has to be a way out.
I lift my gaze to his. “If you’re so sure I have no one, then why offer me a choice at all?”
His expression flickers, just for a second. Then he stands, rolling his sleeves up further, revealing more of those inked, veined forearms. “Because,” he murmurs, circling the chair I’m in, “I don’t want a corpse.”
I swallow hard.
“I want obedience,” he says, stopping behind me. His hands settle on the back of the chair, trapping me in place without even touching me. “Submission. I want you to break yourself before I ever have to lift a finger.”
My pulse thunders in my ears.
He moves to stand beside me, tilting his head as he studies me. Then, without warning, he reaches out and trails his fingers along my collarbone.
I slap his hand away.
His gaze darkens.
Before I can react, his fingers are in my hair again, yanking my head back.
I let out a sharp gasp, my body arching against the sudden pull.
Leo crouches beside me, his grip tight but not cruel—just enough to remind me who’s in control. His face is inches from mine, his breath warm against my cheek.
“I admire the fight in you,” he murmurs. “But don’t mistake my patience for kindness.”
I glare at him, jaw clenched. “I’d rather die.”
He studies me for a long moment, then sighs, shaking his head. “What a waste.”
Then, he lets go.
I stumble forward, barely catching myself before I fall out of the chair. My breath comes in sharp, ragged pants as I push my hair out of my face.
Leo steps back, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt like I didn’t just defy him.
“I’ll give you a little time,” he says smoothly. “A few hours to think about your options.”
“I don’t need time.” I straighten. “My answer is no.”
Leo hums, unconcerned. “I expected as much.”
Then he moves toward the door, rapping his knuckles against it twice. It swings open, and two of his guards step in.
“Take her to the east wing,” he orders.
I stiffen. “What’s in the east wing?”
Leo’s gaze flickers to me, and something unreadable passes through his eyes.
“You’ll see.”
Before I can protest, the guards grab my arms.
“Let go of me!” I thrash, trying to rip myself free, but it’s useless. Their grips are like iron. I throw my weight back, kicking out, but one of them just grunts and tightens his hold.
Leo watches, his expression unreadable, as they drag me out of the room.
“Let me go, you son of a—”
The door slams shut behind me, cutting off my words.
---
The East Wing
I don’t know how long they drag me through the mansion. It’s a blur of lavish halls, golden chandeliers, and marble floors that don’t belong in the hands of a murderer.
Then, finally, we stop.
One of the guards unlocks a door, and the other shoves me inside.
I barely catch my footing before the door slams behind me.
Silence.
I spin around, panting. What the hell is this place?
The room is large, dimly lit, but it’s not empty. There’s a bed—not a prison cot, but an actual, massive bed with silk sheets. A dresser. A fireplace, flickering with low flames. Even a balcony.
It’s not a cell.
It’s... a bedroom.
A luxurious one.
My stomach twists as realization sets in.
This is where he expects me to stay.
A gilded cage.
I whip around, searching for an exit. There’s only one door—the one I was thrown through—and no handle on the inside.
I pound my fists against it. “Let me out!”
Nothing.
I let out a frustrated scream, slamming my hands against the wood.
Then, I hear it.
A soft click.
I freeze.
The fireplace casts just enough light to see movement near the balcony doors. A shadow. Someone else is here.
My heart slams into my ribs as I press my back to the door, fists clenched. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
Then—
A figure steps forward.
Tall. Broad. The sharp angles of a face partially obscured by shadows. He doesn’t say a word. Just watches me.
A chill skates down my spine.
I don’t know who he is.
But I do know one thing.
He’s not a guard.
- Writer
