The first thing Evelina felt when consciousness clawed her back from the dark was pain. Her wrists burned, skin rubbed raw where the rope had bitten into her. Every slight movement sent a sting through her arms. She tried to shift, to pull herself upright, but her muscles screamed with weakness.
Her surroundings came into focus slowly. Cold concrete walls. A ceiling so low it felt as though it pressed down on her. A heavy door, solid steel with no handle on her side. No window, no escape, only the suffocating weight of captivity.
Panic surged in her chest, thick and overwhelming. She pulled at the ropes again, tears pricking her eyes as the fibers dug deeper. She was trapped. Trapped, alone, and she didn't even know why.
The memory of the night slammed back into her like a cruel replay—rain hammering the streets, her broken umbrella, the screech of tires, a man stepping out of the shadows. The sting at her neck, darkness swallowing her whole.
Now she was here.
Her breathing turned sharp and frantic, filling the silence with shallow gasps. She tried to fight it back, but her body betrayed her with trembling limbs and a quivering mouth.
Then—
Footsteps.
Soft at first, but steady. Deliberate. The kind of sound that carried intent, not chance. Each step echoed through the corridor outside, closer, heavier, until the rhythm carved itself into her nerves like a drumbeat of dread.
The door unlocked with a low metallic groan.
Evelina froze, heart thundering in her ears.
He entered.
A man, tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a tailored black suit that absorbed the dim light of the room. His very presence seemed to bend the air around him, filling the space with something more dangerous than violence—control. He moved with an ease that spoke of power, a predator that had no need to rush.
When his eyes found hers, Evelina's blood ran cold. Icy blue, sharp and merciless, his gaze cut through her as though he could strip every lie, every secret from her soul.
His voice was calm, deep, with the faint weight of a Russian accent. "Tell me," he said, "who are you?"
Evelina's lips trembled. She shook her head instinctively, tears spilling over. "P-please," she stammered, her voice breaking, "please let me go. I don't… I don't know what I did. I swear, I didn't—"
His expression did not change. He took a step closer, the sound of his shoe against the floor sharp, final. His gaze hardened.
"Tell me who you are."
Her breath hitched. The demand wasn't loud, but it carried enough weight to silence her protests. Her throat tightened, words choking out in fragments.
"I… I'm Evelina. Evelina Han. I'm just a student, I work part-time, I… I don't know why I'm here."
For a long moment, the silence stretched thin. His eyes lingered on her, cold and calculating, as though measuring her worth by the fear etched into her face.
Then, finally, his lips curved—not in kindness, but in something darker.
"I do not like repeating myself," he said, each word deliberate, smooth as glass yet sharp as a knife. "From now on, when I ask you something, you answer. Or you say yes. Nothing else."
He tilted his head, studying her trembling form like a collector inspecting a fragile object.
"Do you understand?"
Her tears fell faster, her voice small and broken. "Y-yes."
A satisfied smirk touched his mouth, fleeting but unmistakable.
"Good."
He moved closer still, slow, unhurried. Each step was a deliberate reminder of who commanded this space. His presence pressed against her until she could hardly breathe.
"Your parents," he said, voice steady, "took more than they could ever repay. They borrowed from the wrong hands. From my hands."
Evelina's eyes widened, shaking her head furiously. "N-no," she cried, desperation thick in her voice, "they wouldn't—they never told me—"
His hand slammed against the wall beside her head, the sound reverberating through the small room. She flinched violently, choking on a sob.
"They drowned themselves in debt," he continued, voice low, unyielding. "And when the water rose too high, they left you to sink in their place."
The words cut deep, leaving her gasping, clinging to denial as though it could shield her. "Please," she begged, "please, I didn't know! I didn't—"
"Knowledge does not matter." His voice was calm, too calm, as if her cries were irrelevant. "Debt demands payment. It demands obedience. And you…" His eyes lingered on her, a flicker of something unreadable flashing there. "You will give me both."
Her body shook, fear clawing at her chest. Her lips parted in a whisper, barely audible. "C-can I… can I know who you are?"
For the first time, the stillness cracked. He laughed.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't kind. It was the laugh of a man who found amusement in the trembling of his prey. Rich, deep, cruel.
He crouched slightly, closing the distance, his face so near hers she could see the cold fire in his eyes. One gloved hand tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Kairo," he said softly, almost a whisper. "Kairo Volkov."
The name sent ice flooding through her veins. She had heard it before—always in hushed whispers, in stories that carried more fear than fact. A family name synonymous with power, blood, and an empire built on shadows. A man who ruled not just through wealth, but through terror.
And now he stood before her. Her captor. Her judge.
Kairo's smirk deepened, satisfied with the fear etched across her face. His hand withdrew, leaving her trembling, but his presence lingered like a noose tightening around her neck.
"You belong to me now."
The words hung heavy in the air, not a promise but a sentence.
He turned and walked toward the door, his steps unhurried, certain. The lock clicked as he left, leaving Evelina alone once more, the echo of his name reverberating in her skull.
Kairo Volkov.
The monster the world feared… and the man who now held her chains.
To be continued…