The door closed behind him with a sound that felt final, like a sentence being passed. Elena's breath caught as Adrian stood there for a moment, simply looking at her, as if he were deciding something important. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier.
"Don't come closer," she said, her voice shaking despite her effort to sound strong.
Adrian's eyes flicked to the space between them, then back to her face. "You're already too close to me," he replied calmly. "You just don't understand it yet."
She backed away until the edge of the bed pressed into the back of her knees. The luxury of the room felt mocking now—the soft lighting, the expensive furniture, the faint scent of roses and smoke. None of it mattered. What mattered was that the door was locked and the man in front of her controlled it.
"Why me?" she demanded. "You don't even know me."
A muscle in his jaw tightened. He took a step forward, slow and deliberate. "I know enough," he said. "I know you don't belong in the world that keeps brushing past you without seeing you. And I know I won't let anyone else touch what caught my attention."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. "I'm not a thing."
Adrian stopped inches away from her. He lowered his voice, not threatening, not gentle—certain. "You're right. You're not a thing. You're a weakness. And I don't allow weaknesses to exist outside my control."
She slapped him.
The sound echoed sharply through the room. For a fraction of a second, fear exploded inside her—raw, choking, immediate. She waited for rage, for violence, for punishment.
It didn't come.
Adrian stared at her, eyes darkening, something dangerous and unreadable crossing his face. Slowly, he reached up and touched his cheek where her hand had landed. His lips curved, not in amusement, but in something far more unsettling.
"Good," he said quietly. "You still have fire."
Her hand trembled as she pulled it back, anger and terror tangled together. "You're insane."
"Maybe," he agreed. "But I'm also the only reason you're alive."
He turned away from her then, as if the confrontation no longer required his full attention. He walked to the window, pulling the heavy curtains aside just enough to reveal guards stationed outside, weapons visible even in the dim light.
"This house is protected," he said. "No one comes in without my permission. No one leaves without it either."
Elena hugged her arms around herself. "My family will look for me."
Adrian glanced over his shoulder. "They'll be told you're safe. And they'll believe it."
"You can't control everything," she whispered.
He faced her again, his gaze steady. "I control enough."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Elena realized then that he wasn't trying to scare her into obedience. He didn't need to. He was simply stating facts, as immovable as the walls around her.
"I won't force you," Adrian said after a moment. "You'll eat when you're hungry. You'll sleep when you're tired. You'll walk these halls freely."
Her eyes widened. "Then let me go."
His expression hardened. "That is the one thing you won't do."
He moved past her toward the door. Before leaving, he paused, his hand resting on the handle.
"Rest tonight," he said. "Tomorrow, we begin learning each other."
The door opened. Closed. Locked.
Elena slid down onto the bed, her body finally giving in to the tremors she'd been holding back. Somewhere deep inside her, beneath the fear and anger, a terrifying thought took root—
Adrian Volkov hadn't taken her to break her.
He had taken her to keep her.
And that scared her more than anything else. 🖤