A few minutes ago, while the ballroom was still a blur of motion and music, Mike had leaned against the stone balcony, a cold, calculated look in his eyes. He whispered into a small earpiece, "He's left my side. He went out for some fresh air—this is our window. Make sure the room is ready."
He spotted Aiden standing alone in the shadows of the garden. A stranger had approached the boy, but Mike stepped in quickly to maintain control of his prize.
"Get away from him," Mike shooed the stranger with a dismissive wave.
"Why would you do that? He was only trying to have a conversation," Aiden argued, frustrated by the constant interference of the people in this world.
"Eh! He almost deceived you. Didn't the person who brought you here teach you the ethics of strange places?" Mike warned, his voice dripping with mock concern.
"Err… let's not talk about him for now. It's a waste of time," Aiden hissed, the thought of Damien and Jessica making his chest tighten with fresh annoyance.
Mike smirked, sensing the opening. "Okay then. Here—I grabbed this from a waiter on my way out. You look like you need it." He handed Aiden a fresh glass.
"Thank you… how did you know?" Aiden asked, his suspicion flickering for a second.
"I noticed your drink was empty. I thought this would be appropriate for a quiet stroll," Mike replied casually.
Aiden hesitated, then nodded. "Hmmm… okay. Let's go."
"Let's stroll deeper into the garden," Mike suggested. "The air is better by the pond."
"That's a good idea. At least I can calm my nerves there," Aiden said, following him into the dark.
Presently…
Aiden sat quietly on a wooden bench in a secluded corner of the estate's massive gardens. Mike had excused himself a few minutes ago to attend to "urgent business matters," promising to return shortly.
Aiden glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes had passed. The silence of the garden was starting to feel oppressive rather than calming. He reached into his pocket to check his phone, only to realize with a jolt of panic that it was gone. I must have dropped it while walking, he thought.
He stood up to retrace his steps, but a sudden rustle in the bushes behind him made him freeze. Before he could turn his head, a heavy hand clamped over his mouth. He tried to scream, to bite, to fight, but a sharp, heavy blow to the back of his head sent a white-hot flash through his vision.
"Hey! Let me go!" he managed to gasp against the palm, struggling weakly, but the darkness swallowed him before he could see his attacker's face.
Meanwhile, back at the penthouse…
"It's been forty minutes! Where is he? I haven't seen him since he went for 'fresh air'!" Damien shouted, his voice echoing off the glass walls. He was pacing like a caged animal, his tuxedo jacket discarded on a chair.
"Sir, the waiter said he saw him heading to the garden with a guest," Sean reported, his face pale.
"Then go find him—now! Bring him back to me!" Damien barked.
"Chill out, bro. We'll find him. You shouldn't be this stressed over a student," Charles tried to intervene, placing a hand on Damien's shoulder.
Jessica, watching from the sofa with a glass of champagne, interjected sharply, "Yes, Damien. Who is this kid to have you so worked up? I bet he's just another one of your toys who got bored and left. Ugh!"
"Jessica, enough! Stop talking before you make things worse," Charlie snapped at her.
Damien turned on her, his eyes filled with a terrifying, cold fury. "Get out of here. I don't want to see your face—and I will cancel this wedding and everything tied to it if you don't leave this room right now."
Jessica froze, her glass trembling in her hand. She had never seen him this close to the edge.
Sean ran back into the room, panting heavily. "Sir… we searched the entire garden. We can't find him! But we found this." He held up Aiden's cracked phone.
Aiden slowly regained consciousness. A sharp, rhythmic throbbing in his head made him wince. As his eyes fluttered open, he realized he was lying on a bed, his wrists bound tightly to the headboard. The room was dim, lit only by the distant glow of the city through a small window.
"You're awake," a deep, distorted voice said.
Aiden tried to thrash, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Where am I? Mike? Is that you?"
A shadowy figure stepped out from the corner. The man was shirtless, his face obscured by the darkness, but his build was powerful. He stepped closer to the bed, a black scarf in his hands.
"You're in a… safe space," the figure chuckled, a low, menacing sound.
Aiden froze as the man leaned over him. "No! Don't cover my face! Please!"
"Who are you to dictate what happens here?" the man replied.
In the split second before the scarf was tied around his eyes, Aiden caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the man's waist—intricate Japanese characters he couldn't read. Then, everything went pitch black.
"YOU'RE MINE NOW," the man hissed into his ear, his breath hot against Aiden's skin.
"Sir! We have him on the service elevator cameras., he was taken out of the building but not the estate"
Damien's fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. His jaw was set in a line of pure, murderous intent. "Take me there. Now. And tell the guards to bring the heavy equipment."