Emily sat on the edge of the bed, her hands tightly clasped together, her mind a whirlwind of fear and determination. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to fight, to resist, but the cold reality of her situation weighed heavily on her.
She was alone.
No backup.
No weapons.
No allies.
The luxurious room suddenly felt like a gilded cage. The expensive curtains, the intricate rugs, the gleaming marble — none of it could hide the fact that she was a prisoner.
Her eyes flicked again toward the door Richard had exited through. It had clicked shut with a finality that made her stomach churn. She rubbed her hands over her jeans, grounding herself. Panic wouldn't help her now. Strategy would.
Emily stood and quietly moved around the room, inspecting everything. The walls were thick, the windows—if there even were any—hidden behind heavy drapes. She tugged one aside and confirmed her suspicion: reinforced glass, probably bulletproof, overlooking a massive courtyard below.
Escape through the windows was out.
She inspected the door next. Solid wood, possibly oak, with a digital lock on the handle. She'd need a code to get out, and guessing wasn't an option. She cursed under her breath, biting her lower lip in frustration.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the bed, vibrating against the comforter. She lunged for it, hope flaring in her chest. She picked it up only to see a system notification: "No Service."
Again.
Tossing the phone aside, she paced back and forth. She couldn't afford to wait for rescue. No one even knew she was here.
She thought of Liam — her dependable, stubborn partner. Would he realize something was wrong? Would he come for her?
She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She had to survive until then.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. She whirled toward the door, body tensing like a coiled spring.
Without waiting for a response, the door creaked open. A second maid, different from the first, stepped inside. This one was older, her face lined with years of hard living. She placed a stack of neatly folded clothes on a nearby chair without meeting Emily's gaze.
"What's this?" Emily asked, voice sharp.
The woman spoke in a heavy accent, her voice low. "For the pool, ma'am. Please change. Mr. Richard is waiting."
Emily crossed her arms. "Tell Richard he can go jump in the pool without me."
The maid's lips twitched as if she fought a smile, but she said nothing. She turned to leave, but Emily gripped her arm tightly.
"Wait," Emily said, lowering her voice. "You'll tell me how to get out of here safely or you'll be the first citizen I'll unleash injustice on."
The maid scoffed and rollled her eyes. She shook her head and pulled her arm free. "No one can help you here, you're doomed" she smirked before slipping out of the room, locking the door behind her.
Emily stood there for a moment, the clothes still untouched on the chair, her heart pounding against her ribs.
No one can help you here.
The words echoed in her mind.
Grimacing, she rifled through the clothes — a light sundress, casual but expensive. It wasn't revealing, but she hated the idea of playing into Richard's game. She debated refusing, but refusing might only provoke him. She needed time, not conflict — at least, not yet.
With a scowl, she changed quickly and stuffed her police uniform under the bed, out of sight. She pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, inspecting herself in the mirror.
No fear, she reminded herself.
No weakness.
She would play along — for now.
When the door clicked open again, it wasn't Richard standing there, but two of his men. Broad-shouldered, silent, they gestured for her to follow.
Emily lifted her chin and strode past them without a word, forcing herself to look confident even as unease twisted her gut.
They led her through winding hallways, past lavish rooms and grand staircases. The deeper they went, the more Emily realized how isolated she was. This wasn't just a house. It was a fortress.
Finally, they stepped out onto a sunlit patio overlooking a shimmering pool. And there, lounging lazily in a deck chair with a drink in hand, was Richard.
He wore dark swim trunks and a white button-down shirt that hung open over his tanned chest. He looked every bit the casual billionaire — relaxed, powerful, dangerous.
When he saw her, a slow smirk spread across his face. He set his drink down and stood.
"Officer Emily," he drawled, his voice carrying easily across the patio. "You clean up well."
Emily walked toward him with measured steps, her expression neutral. "I see kidnapping victims get the full resort treatment around here."
Richard chuckled. "Consider it... protective custody."
"Protective from what? Freedom?" she shot back.
He laughed again, genuinely amused. "Freedom's overrated."
She stopped a few feet from him, arms crossed. "Why am I really here, Richard? Don't give me that 'need-to-know' crap again."
Richard studied her, the mirth fading slightly from his eyes. For a moment, Emily thought he might actually answer — but instead, he turned toward the pool and said over his shoulder, "Swim first. Then we'll talk."
"I'm not here for a pool party," Emily snapped.
He faced her again, his smile sharp now, predatory. "You're here because I say you are. And because you're smarter than the last officer they sent."
Emily's blood ran cold. "What happened to the last officer?"
Richard shrugged, a casual, almost bored gesture. "Let's just say... they weren't as good at playing the game."
She clenched her fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
"I don't play games," she said through gritted teeth.
Richard stepped closer, invading her space, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You will. Or you'll lose."
Emily held her ground, refusing to flinch under the intensity of his gaze.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other — predator and prey, though neither entirely sure who was which.
Finally, Richard broke the tension with a lazy wave of his hand. "Relax, Officer. Enjoy the sun. It might be the only thing I allow you to enjoy."
With that, he turned and dove into the pool, sending up a spray of water.
Emily watched him swim, her mind whirling. He was playing a long, dangerous game — and somehow, she was the pawn.
Or maybe the queen, if she played her cards right.
She moved to one of the poolside chairs, sitting stiffly. She needed information, not bravado. If she could keep him talking, she might learn something useful — something she could use to escape.
Richard surfaced smoothly, his hair slicked back, water droplets clinging to his skin.
He treaded water, smiling lazily at her. "Tell me, Officer — do you always throw sarcasm like knives? Or am I just special?"
Emily smirked despite herself. "You're a special kind of criminal, I'll give you that."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," he said, swimming to the edge. "But I like your spirit. You'll need it."
She leaned forward slightly, feigning casual interest. "Need it for what?"
Richard's eyes gleamed, wicked and knowing. "For surviving in Ashwood."
Before she could press him for more, a commotion erupted inside the house — loud voices, hurried footsteps.
Richard's head snapped up, his body tensing. His smile disappeared.
Emily saw her chance.
Without thinking, she bolted. She sprinted past the stunned guards, heart hammering, barefoot across the stone tiles. She didn't know where she was going — she just knew she needed to get away.
"Get her!" Richard's furious voice roared behind her.
She dashed through a side door, found herself in a long hallway, and ran.
She needed a weapon, a phone, anything. She needed to find a way out.
But she barely made it a few yards before two guards tackled her from behind, slamming her to the ground. She fought, kicking and punching, but they were too strong.
As they hauled her to her feet, Richard approached, dripping wet, fury etched into every line of his face.
"You're lucky I find you amusing," he growled. "Because if you were anyone else, you'd already be dead."
Emily met his gaze without flinching, blood trickling from a scrape on her knee.
"You're going to have to try harder than that," she spat.
Richard's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "Oh, I will, Officer. I will."
As the guards dragged her back toward the house, Emily forced herself to remember one thing:
She might be trapped.
She might be outnumbered.
But she was not broken.
Not yet.
And no matter how powerful Richard was, Emily vowed she would beat him at his own twisted game — or die trying.