The air in the underground garage reeked of oil and rubber. The lighting was sterile, harsh. It cast sharp-edged shadows against the naked concrete walls.It was close to midnight. The moment had come. Finally. Only a handful of cars were scattered around. I had watched them all, made sure none of the owners were planning to leave tonight.My shoes echoed softly across the floor, adding a strange sense of finality to the moment. Finality only I could feel.I wore a dark jacket, my hair hidden under a black wig, colored contacts just in case the driver turned out to be a problem. A baseball cap held the ponytail tight. The earpiece added the illusion of professionalism.My hands were gloved in black. This was it.
The garage door opened. I checked my watch.Right on time. Just like planned.Jhio approached the van—only his driver accompanied him.I studied the man. Late forties. Broad frame. Tired, but alert posture.Jhio, in contrast, looked calm. Almost bored. As if the day hadn't demanded anything from him at all.I waited by the van. A shadow in plain sight. A bottle of water in my hand.I had taken it from the hotel's minibar, tampered with it carefully, re-sealed it so precisely that no one would notice. Not even him.
"Excuse me, sir," I said softly, politely. Just a chauffeur doing their job.I handed him the bottle with a small bow. "It's a long ride. You should stay hydrated."
He eyed me for a second before taking the bottle, twisting the cap open."Thanks," he said.
Turned briefly to the other driver—so did I.
"Seems the agency messed up again," I said quickly, smiling. "Overbooked. Again."
He gave a distracted nod, turned back to me.I glanced at the bottle. Half empty.
"Seems like it," he murmured and climbed into the van.
The other driver loaded the bags, then walked over to the passenger side.I followed him. Quietly.My heart thundered, but it was too late for doubts.The second he opened the door, I pulled out the small syringe, popped the cap—and struck.
Quick. A clean jab to the side of his neck. He didn't even register what was happening. His hand twitched, reached out—then collapsed. The sedative worked instantly.
I shut the door, leaned down, took the keys from his pocket and moved to the driver's side.
My pulse hammered in my skull, but I forced myself to stay calm. I got into the seat, adjusted everything like I'd watched him do countless times. The mirror. The belt. Then—Jhio. His head was tilted against the window, the bottle empty beside him. His eyelids flickered.
"All good, sir?" I asked, voice cool.
He mumbled something incoherent. The drug was working. Not a full blackout—I had made sure of that.It'd be easier to drag him up the stairs this way. If he could walk, even just barely, I wouldn't need to carry dead weight.
I started the engine. It roared to life beneath my hands.Smoothly, I steered us through the garage. At the gate, I rolled down the window and nodded at the night guard. He nodded back and raised the barrier.
The van slipped out into the street. My body was tense—but a different tension took over now. One more glance in the mirror.Jhio didn't move. His head had slumped forward.
"You're mine now," I whispered, a dark smile tugging at my lips, as the city faded behind us.
The air outside the cabin bit at my skin as I stepped out, but I barely noticed. My heart was still racing, my chest tight with the remnants of adrenaline. I slipped behind the wheel again, gripping it with shaking hands, and turned the van around—driving it deep into the suburbs, far from the forest, far from us. Somewhere no one would think to look.
I parked the van in a dark alley, punctured the tires, left the doors wide open. The neighborhood would take care of the rest—this place had a reputation. Then I switched cars. Mine was parked a few streets over. I slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and headed back. Back to the little dirt path winding into the forest. Back to him.
By the time I pulled up to the cabin again, a twisted sort of relief washed over me. It had worked. Everything had gone according to plan. He was here. With me. And soon, he would see it too—he'd understand that I was the one. The only one. I stepped out, pulled the tarp over my car to hide it, and returned to the door. Each lock clicked open beneath my fingers. I paused in the silence before stepping inside.
Nothing.
Not a sound. Not even breath.
Good. He was still under.
I crept up the stairs, slow and careful, and opened the door.
My breath caught.
The chair was empty.
A second later, the door slammed shut behind me with a loud, echoing click.
"Welcome home, darling."
My entire body froze. I spun around, just in time to feel his hands slam against me, his body pinning mine to the wooden wall. Hard. Fast. Unrelenting.
His eyes—those fucking eyes—were clear. Dark. Focused.
One hand trailed slowly up my side. Not rushed. Not violent. Just slow and certain.
"I admire your ambition," he whispered, voice low and dangerous, "but did you ever, even for a second, think about how unwise it is to take a stranger deep into the woods to play your little game?"
My eyes widened as his hand reached my throat.
"Your heart's racing. Tell me—why are we really here?"
His face hovered close to mine, the heat of his breath brushing my skin.
"I... you… why are you awake?" I whispered, my thoughts scattered like broken glass.
The sound that left his throat was low and amused, almost a growl. It vibrated against me.
"Answer me," he murmured, voice sliding across my skin like a blade.
Everything was slipping. Fast.
"I wanted you to see me. To finally understand," I breathed, desperate now.
His lips brushed the skin of my neck, and despite everything—despite how wrong this was—my body responded. My breath quickened, my blood burned. I had crossed a line. I had drugged him. Taken him. And I knew—God, I knew—how fucked up that was.
"Understood," was all he said.
Then his grip tightened—not enough to choke, not really. Just enough to remind me who had the upper hand now.
"You know the saying," he whispered, voice like ice, "don't play with fire unless you want to get burned? But you... you just set the whole damn forest on fire."
I struggled, panic rising.
"This isn't how it was supposed to go. Let me go," I whispered.
"No," he said simply.
He leaned back just enough to look me in the eyes, really look—and I swear to God, he saw every thought I had, every crack in my mask. The air between us vibrated. I felt danger in every cell of my body. Something dark. Something I'd never seen in him before.
Then, slowly, he released me. Took a step back. Still close. Still dominant.
"You're fascinating," he said, quiet and almost... admiring. Like I was some art piece he'd just begun to study. "So determined. So... focused."
I tried to catch my breath. Tried to think clearly.
And then he reached up and pulled the wig from my head.
My real hair fell loose around my shoulders.
He brushed a strand behind my ear.
"Did you really think you could just bring me here?" he asked, that cold smile tugging at his lips. "That I'd sit in that chair and obey?"
"I... I just wanted—" I tried, but he shook his head.
"What?" he pressed, voice soft now. A whisper. "You wanted me to see you? To notice you the way you've dreamed of?"
He let the silence stretch before continuing.
"You really have no idea... do you?"
My heart thudded.
"I planned everything," I whispered. "Every second. Every step."
But this—this wasn't mine anymore.
"You did all of this for me," he continued, his voice almost gentle now. "Because you thought I needed what? Redemption? Love? Or maybe something simpler... something primal. You just wanted to own me, didn't you?"
I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. His face was too close. His voice too calm.
He was beautiful. And I was insane for thinking that in this moment.
"But here's the best part of your little plan," he said, still quiet. "You're exactly where I wanted you."
That... that made everything feel even worse.
"What now?" he asked, tilting his head. "Now that you know this won't go the way you thought?"
I swallowed.
He smiled. Icy. Confident.
"Well," he whispered, reaching into his coat pocket, "like you said before…"
He pulled out a water bottle.
The same brand.
The exact one I'd given him in the garage.
My eyes widened as he twisted the cap.
"That's not possible," I whispered. "I watched you drink it."
"Did you?" he replied, gaze locked on mine.
Then—fast—he pressed the bottle to my lips.
"Drink."
It wasn't a request.
I froze.
"No," I breathed. Even I could hear the fear in my voice.
He leaned in.
"We can do this the easy way… or the fun way, sweetheart. But either way, you're going to drink it. So?"
I stared at him. Couldn't move.
He closed the last bit of distance.
"Drink."
It was pure power. A demonstration. And I saw it in his eyes—there was only one way this ended.
I inhaled sharply.
Closed my eyes.
And drank.
The water slid down my throat like poison—maybe because I knew exactly what I had just swallowed.
The last thing I heard before everything blurred—
"Good girl."
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Thank you to everyone who's been walking this path with me. I see you.We've reached one third of the book—and every single comment, powerstone, and rating means the world to me.It might be just a small click for you—but to me, it's everything. 🖤🖤🖤
Tomorrow, it continues.Darker. Colder. Unforgiving.