Captured Heart

14. Aleksandras

T he sound of the shower fills the room, a steady rhythm that does nothing to drown out the noise in my head. I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like it has all the answers I’ll never find. The room feels too quiet, even with the faint hum of the water. Too still. It gives me too much space to think, and thinking is the last thing I want to do right now.

I should’ve walked away. My brain recounts every opportunity I had to leave this all behind. Last night was my last chance, but I didn’t take it. I couldn’t. And now I’m screwed. I’ve passed the point of no return.

She’s got her claws so deep in me, and I’m not even sure she knows it. I could get up and leave right now. No one will stop me, not even Victor. He’ll just keep the rest of my cut and send me on my way. He doesn’t need me. He’s got more than enough goons to finish this job.

But I won’t leave her. I can’t.

She’s trapped in this place, and so am I. The difference is, I chose this. And I’m accustomed to making poor choices in life. I’ve been doing it for years. But not her. She’s a casualty of circumstance, another pawn in Victor’s twisted game. And last night just sealed my fate. Whatever comes next, I’ll have to accept it, because there’s no way I’m walking out of here without her.

It’s insane how fast this happened. Just two weeks ago, she was a job, a mark I had to manipulate to get what Victor wanted. That was the plan. Stick to the mission. Keep it clean. Keep it simple. No feelings. No complications.

But then she smiled at me, and something shifted. Not all at once, but slowly, like water wearing down a rock. The more I was around her, the more those cracks in my walls started to form. And she didn’t even know she was doing it. She wasn’t trying to break me down. She just...slipped through the gaps.

Like a thief.

That’s the only way I can explain it because I have enough experience to see all the similarities. She snuck in, soft and silent, slipping past every defense I’ve spent years building. She’s so unguarded that she forced me to lower mine, too. No alarm bells went off. Nothing alerted me to this intruder until it was too late.

After my mom passed, I thought I was dead inside. When they buried her, I thought they also buried every part of me that could feel something real. But then Katie looked at me with those warm, trusting brown eyes, and suddenly, I was a man with everything to lose.

I don’t know how she did it. Maybe it’s that damn sentimental streak, the way she wears her heart on her sleeve, always giving, always hoping, even when the odds are stacked against her. Or maybe it’s that unshakable strength she doesn’t even realize she has. The way she holds herself, even in the face of all this. It’s not loud or showy, but it’s there, like steel under silk.

She’s everything I didn’t know I needed. Everything I thought I’d never deserve.

And now, every time I look at her, it feels like I’m being torn in two. Because I can’t stop caring, can’t stop wanting to protect her, even if it costs me everything.

The water shuts off, pulling me from my thoughts. I hear the faint shuffle of her feet on the tiles, and my muscles tighten. She doesn’t even know what she’s done to me. But I know one thing for certain. I’d burn this entire fucking world to the ground before I let anything happen to her.

The knock at the door makes my head snap up. It’s sharp, commanding, and instantly puts me on edge. I stand, moving to the door to unlock it. Victor strides in, Bowman trailing behind him like the shadow he’s always been.

He carries in a tray with a dry cheese sandwich, a cup of black coffee, and a container filled with sachets of sugar and creamer. He sets it on the bedside table, then moves to stand at the door.

“Where’s the girl?” Victor asks, his eyes scanning the room.

“In the shower.”

“You sure? She’s a runner.”

So, he knows. Interesting. He must have cameras facing the fence. It’s the only explanation. He never puts them inside. Too risky, too much evidence if the wrong person ever gets their hands on the footage. But outside? He’s always one step ahead.

“She’s not going anywhere,” I assure him. “Not with me here.”

Victor gives a slight nod. That’s good enough for him because he trusts my competence.

I try to steer the conversation to get more information. “Why are you here? Is there news?”

“No, but her father wants to talk to her to make sure we haven’t hurt her.”

I keep my face blank, though Bowman’s words from last night play in my mind: Kenji’s not walking away from this.

“What are you going to do if Kenji doesn’t hand over the files?” I’m careful to sound curious, not concerned.

His lips curl into a sinister grin that makes my stomach churn. “Well, whether he hands them over or not, he’s dead to me. But those files will determine what happens to the girl.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, the kind of quiet that carries more weight than a shout. “If I don’t get those files, she’ll find out just how creative I can be. I’ve been toying with some ideas.” He contemplates it for a bit. “Skin burns so easily. Did you know that? Just a little gasoline, a match, and that radiant glow she has will be no more.”

He watches me carefully, looking for even the slightest twitch. He’s the reason I trained myself to always appear completely emotionless, the reason why, to this day, I show no expression on my face. These mind games are a method he uses to weed out the weak ones.

I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to react. He’s testing me, waiting to see if I’ll crack. He wants to see if I flinch, if I care. I give nothing away, even as every fiber of my being is screaming to lunge at him.

“Or maybe I’ll start smaller,” he continues. “With a pair of pliers. People underestimate the pain of losing a fingernail, but you’ve seen what it’s like. Can you imagine the kind of screams that will extract from our pretty little princess?” His smile is sadistic. He’s enjoying that thought way too much. “And that’s just the beginning. By the time I’m done, her own mother won’t recognize her.” He’s still studying me with unbelievable scrutiny. “Or maybe...I’ll just give her to my boys. Let them decide what to do with her. They’ve worked hard. They should get some reward.”

His eyes narrow slightly because he’s gauging my loyalty, and I’m not going to give him any reason to doubt it.

I steel my spine to stop my jaw from clenching, to stop my hands from curling, to stop myself from ripping his fucking head off, and simply shrug my indifference. “Do what you want with her. I don’t give a fuck.”

He smiles, happy that I passed the test, but he throws in one last piece of bait just to make sure. “Well, you’re welcome to stay for the show if you like.”

“Nah,” I say, forcing a smirk. “Get your boys to help you with that shit. At that point, I think I’ll cash in, take my money, and disappear. I’ve already spent more time with this chick than I wanted to. I just want this to be over. Regardless of how it ends, I can’t wait to never lay eyes on you or her again.”

I don’t look at Bowman or Victor as I say it. I don’t need to. The words are for their benefit, not mine.

The bathroom door creaks open, and my eyes are drawn to her instantly. Katelyn steps out, wearing my hoodie, her hair damp from her shower. Her eyes meet mine. Last night, they were burning with lust and passion for me. But today, all I see is contempt. Hurt and betrayal douse those last few flickering embers, and the fire that was blazing just a few hours ago is now dead.

Whatever trust we started to build last night is gone, shattered by the lies I just fed Victor. She overheard everything.

“Good morning, lovely.” Victor’s practiced charm cuts through the silence, his eyes zoning in on the bruises circling her wrists. “I see John taught you a valuable lesson. Trying to escape is only going to make it harder for you, my dear.”

She swallows, her eyes flicking to me. He’s speaking to her with care and concern, yet she just heard how menacing and cruel he can be. He spoke so casually about setting her on fucking fire . She knows exactly what this monster will do to her if he doesn’t get his way, so she sees right through the fake pleasantries. She knows it’s all a front because he wants her to trust him enough to lower her defences.

And now she’s looking at me like Vic and I are cut from the same cloth, like we use the same methods of persuasion. But we are nothing alike, and I hate that she’s drawing these similarities between him and me.

For a moment, she looks angry enough to want revenge. I wouldn’t put it past her to expose me, throw me under the bus, and tell Victor exactly what happened last night.

But then she lets out a defeated sigh and drops her head as if she can’t take the disappointment anymore. “I won’t run away again,” she says softly.

“Good. Your father wants to talk to you.” Victor pulls out his phone, dials the number, and puts it on speaker. “Two minutes. No funny business.”

When the call connects, Kenji’s frantic voice fills the room. He speaks in Japanese, the words tumbling out so fast I can barely catch them.

Victor scowls. “English,” he barks. “Or the call ends now.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Kenji’s voice trembles as he switches to English. “Katelyn, are you alright? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine, dad.” Her voice cracks, wavering from the emotions she’s trying to hide. “But I’m...I’m scared.”

“Don’t panic,” Kenji assures her, his tone softening. “I’m doing everything I can. But you... you have to do everything you can...” He pauses. “...to stay strong. You’re so strong, sweetheart. And I know you’ll find a way to escape...” His voice cracks and there’s another brief pause. “...all this trauma they’re putting you through. Just find a happy place in your mind and remember what I’ve always told you. No matter how dark things get... you have the power...to overcome any obstacle, any evil in this world. You just need to—”

“Pep talk is over,” Victor interrupts. “Time is running out, Kenji. When am I getting my files?”

“Victor, please. I just need a few days to get the files ready. Two, three at most, and I’ll get them to you.”

Victor’s expression remains impassive for a long while before he nods. “Three days. Not a second longer.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“Once you

Katelyn, I love you. I love you with my whole heart ...Call me soon.”

“Dad?”

Her eyes widen. I don’t know what it is, but something he said freaks her out. She goes ash-white, all color draining from her face. Granted, it’s an odd thing to say. He knows she doesn’t have a phone, so it would be impossible for her to call him. But it could just be an automated response, something he said without thinking. I don’t understand the panic.

“Dad!” Her eyes flick to Victor before darting somewhere else. It’s like she’s worried he might see something he shouldn’t. “Daddy!”

Vic doesn’t give them a second chance to talk. He ends the call and tucks his phone into his pocket. He looks at Katelyn, his gaze cold. “I don’t know what God you believe in, but I suggest you pray for your father to come through on time.”

He leaves without another word, Bowman following close behind.

The sound of the door slamming echoes in my head long after Victor’s footsteps fade down the corridor. She’s pacing now, her bare feet padding against the cold floor, her fingers worrying that damn locket around her neck. I’ve seen her do that many times before. It happens when she’s overthinking. But it’s more than that now. She’s spiraling.

I watch her; the tension winding tighter inside me because I know I need to say something, but I’m unsure how to begin.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

Her hand drops instantly from her neck, her spine stiffening. “Nothing.”

She won’t even look at me. The distance between us feels wider than it has in days, and I know I’ve done this. I’ve put that wall back up with what I said to Victor, and I need to explain what happened. Cautiously, I step closer, like approaching a cornered animal.

“Katie—”

“Stay away from me!” she yells, her voice cracking as she shoves me hard. “I keep thinking I can trust you, and you keep proving why I can’t!”

“You can trust me.”

“Stop trying to bullshit and manipulate me!” Her chest heaves with barely restrained anger. “Last night, I thought...” She stops, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I thought maybe you cared about me. But you don’t give a damn. That’s what you told Victor, right? He can do whatever he wants to me because you don’t give a shit.”

“Katie, I had to say that.”

“Liar!” she screams, the screechy pitch reverberating off the concrete walls. “Every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie!”

“I’ve never lied...not to you.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and jagged. “Of course, you lied. You lied to me about everything .”

I take a breath, steadying myself against the surge of my growing frustration. “And what did I lie about?”

“Your name, for starters. Which happens to be a fundamental part of your identity, by the way. You’re John Turner. That’s lie number one.”

“I didn’t lie. Not really.”

Her eyes narrow with undisguised resentment. “Then what’s your name?”

“Alex...” I pause, the weight of this confession sinking in as I hold her gaze. I’ve kept my real identity a secret for so long that revealing it now just feels...wrong. “Aleksandras Kazlauskas.”

Her face goes pale, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Oh, my God. That sounds like the name of a Russian spy!”

“It’s Lithuanian.” My casual correction does nothing to settle her.

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

I try to take her hand again, but she yanks it out of my grip. “Just listen to—”

“You told me you were an engineering student.”

“I didn’t. You assumed that, and I told you not to make assumptions about me.”

She thinks about it, then tries another angle when she realizes that one was all on her. “What about the things you told me about your uncle’s repair shop and fixing your first Buick Regal?”

“That was true.”

“And your mother?”

“Katie, everything I told you was true.”

For a moment, her anger seems to waver, her defenses lowering, but it’s fleeting. She shakes her head, stepping back. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. None of it does. Whatever we shared doesn’t matter, because you’re just going to leave me here.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Liar!” The sound is shrill, sharp enough to cut. Her breaths stagger out of her faster, harsher, as her hands ball into fists at her sides. “I heard everything you said to Victor. Don’t stand there and pretend like you care about me now when you literally handed me over to that monster!”

She’s been brave so far, keeping it together pretty damn well. But saying that breaks her. And I can’t even describe what hearing that does to me. Something shatters inside me, a barrier that was keeping all my guilt and shame at bay, and as it crumbles, those emotions gush through me. The flow is overpowering and relentless.

But I remind myself that she would have been here whether I took the job or not. I have no involvement in Victor’s feud with Kenji, and if I didn’t do the dirty work, some other goon would have.

“Katie, I know you’re angry, and you probably hate me right now, but I assure you, being here with me...is the best way this thing could’ve played out for you.”

“You think so?” She uses every mechanism she has to keep the raw emotion out of her voice. “You think any of Victor’s other men would’ve toyed with me the way you did?”

“I didn’t toy—”

“Do you think any of them would’ve kept reeling me in just to toss me back out?” Her voice rises with her temper. “Do you think that guy would’ve spent hours talking with me, flirting with me, finding out my deepest secrets only to slap me with rejection and tell me it’d be simpler to just be friends?”

I run my hand down my face, growing more irritable because she knows the truth now. How can she not get it? “I was there to do a job. I didn’t wanna get...involved and complicate things.”

“Oh, a job? You were just maintaining professional courtesy, right? Are all Victor’s men so committed to the job ?” The question drips with derision and bitter sarcasm. “Do you think any of them would’ve taken me home in a drunken state, helped me undress, and put me to bed? Do you think one of those guys would’ve stayed with me until I fell asleep, kissed me tenderly on my forehead...” Her teeth clench together as she spits out her next words. “...and then thrown me into the back of a van two days later? Is all of that part of the job description?”

She’s unraveling faster than the speed of light, becoming angrier with each passing second. It’s like every negative emotion I invoked over the last two weeks is culminating and morphing into this raging death spiral.

“Katie, you’re mixing things that shouldn’t be mixed. You and the job are two different things—”

She doesn’t even allow me to get a full explanation in and cuts me off right there. “Do you think any of them would’ve crept into my room in the middle of the night because he was drunk and looking for a warm body to screw?”

My eyes widen, my mouth dropping in absolute shock. “Are you serious?” I gape at her for a few seconds as I try to recover from the knockout blow she just flung at me. “You think that’s what happened last night?”

“Isn’t it?”

I never thought two words could cripple me like that. And it’s not just the words. It’s the abrasive acrimony she lathered them in. I turn around because I can’t look at her anymore. And I can’t stand the way she’s looking at me, her pretty brown eyes filled with hurt and disappointment.

That wasn’t how she looked at me just a few hours ago. She looked at me like I was all the man she’d ever want, and now there’s just unadulterated resentment.

Again, I try to reason with myself. Her whole world has been turned upside down, and she’s blaming me for it. She gave her trust to me so openly, and I abused that. Somehow, I have to find a way to earn it back.

I turn to face her again and bite back the clipped response that question actually deserves. “I wasn’t drunk,” I say instead.

“But you were horny, right? And all you were looking for was—”

“Stop.”

Soft. Controlled. But still a warning. A warning she heeds for about a second before she hurls herself straight back into the attack.

“You just used me!” she yells.

My shoulders tense. This anger she’s spewing must be contagious because it’s spilling into my veins now, too. “I didn’t.”

“But I’m the idiot here because I keep letting you do this to me. I let you use me and manipulate me and make me a fool. Just over and over and over again. And you...you don’t seem to get bored of it. It’s like you enjoy messing with my head. I’ve only known you for twelve days, Alex. Please explain how you managed to screw me over so thoroughly in such a short amount of time?”

It's a rhetorical question, and I feel no need to justify it with a response. Instead, I clench my jaw to keep it shut, saying nothing as she winds me tighter and tighter.

“But last night you crossed the line.” She’s fraught, huffing out every syllable with exasperation. “I don’t know if you were lonely...or if I was just there and...available...”

“Wait. Timeout.” I know she analyzes things way too much, but surely, she didn’t get that so twisted. I’m usually very good at keeping my composure. Nothing rattles me. But she is pushing all my buttons. I clench my fists, keeping my voice as calm as I can muster. “Katie, what the fuck are you saying? You were in this room. We were in this room for hours , and you took everything that happened and chalked it down to me being lonely ? Are you fucking serious?”

I exhale slowly and count to ten, trying to soothe the rage churning inside me. See, I’ve learned that anger is like fire. Mine especially. I have a very short fuse. It doesn’t take much. A careless word, a fleeting look, or even silence in the wrong moment, and it ignites. A single spark is all it needs to catch alight, and once it does, it spreads fast.

Every word out of her mouth is like throwing gasoline on the flames, feeding the heat until it’s wild and out of control. It’s at a point where it’s threatening to consume everything in its path. I can already feel the burn in my chest, hot and acrid, and I’m trying with everything in me to douse it before I lose my cool.

“What else could it be?” She shrugs like there isn’t a single alternative she can think of. “You said so yourself. You were in prison for four years, and you wanted to get your fill of me. You—”

I hate that she’s taking that statement so out of context. “Yeah, of you . Not just some random warm body that was available. I also said that if this was the only time we had together, then—”

She cuts me off again, refusing to listen to any argument that counters the bullshit that’s running on a loop in her head. “You made it clear on several occasions that you weren’t interested in me, that you were just in it for the money. Then you snuck in here...and the way you looked at me...all the lines got blurred. I thought I saw...the good in you. I thought...God, I’m so stupid! You kissed me and...and I thought we had...something real , only to find out that last night meant nothing to you.”

If overthinking were a sport, she’d be a gold medalist. It’s like she started at point A and ended at E = mc2. That’s the convoluted path she took to work herself up to this rampage.

“I’m not sure how you got to that conclusion. The mere fact that I’m here debunks everything you just said.” I step closer. “Believe it or not, being deprived of pussy for four years is not a good enough reason to willingly put myself in this situation. I made this clear yesterday. The only reason I’m here is because of you. ”

“Bullshit!” She backs away, her voice climbing higher, tinged with hysteria. “I heard you! You told Victor you couldn’t wait for this to be over. You said you never wanted to see me again. So, just stop lying to me, Alex!”

“I had to say—”

She slaps my hand away when I reach for her. “Don’t touch me!”

Her words sting like acid, the bitterness coating every syllable as it grates against my nerves. I grit my teeth, my jaw aching from the strain of holding back. She’s scared, terrified, but she’s not listening to a damn thing. Every attempt to calm her is met with more resistance, more accusations, more vitriol.

“Katie,” I say, still keeping my voice low to deescalate the tension, “you’re spiraling. You need to stop.”

“No, you need to stop!” Her chest heaves, her face flushed with fury. “Stop pretending you’re anything other than what you are. You’re just like him. Manipulative. Cruel. All you care about is the money!”

I snap, my last shred of patience disintegrating to dust. I grab her wrist, yanking her toward me. She gasps, but I don’t let go. I pin her hands behind her back with one hand and take a few deliberate steps forward until her spine hits the wall.

She writhes, trying to break free, but I tighten my grip, leaning in so she’s forced to meet my eyes. “Listen to me,” I grind out, my voice rough and edged with anger. “Victor doesn’t need me here. He’s got enough men, so I don’t need to be here until this is over. I could leave right now. Walk out that door, take my money, and disappear. No more bullshit. No more risks. Just freedom.”

It takes a moment for those words to sink in, then her breathing slows, and she stops fighting. Her wide eyes lock onto mine, searching, pleading.

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because what I’d leave behind is worth more than what I’d take with me.”

Her lips part, but no words leave them. She’s drained, and the animosity she was clinging to is replaced by something else, something softer and more fragile. “Why?” she asks, the word only slightly audible. “You barely know me. Why would you do that for me?”

I close my eyes for a moment, swallowing hard. I don’t know what she wants from me. My actions have already proven it. I’ve basically told her, but it’s not enough for her. I’m not a guy who opens up easily. Expressing how I feel is something I don’t do, but it’s like she won’t stop until she hears me say it.

“Because...” My body stiffens. This is harder to admit than I thought. “Because....shit, because I care about you, Katie. More than I should. More than is safe. But I do.” I raise my hand and lightly trace the faded bruise near her eye. “And I wish I didn’t. I wish you were just a job to me. I wish it was just about the money. Fuck, how I wish it was loneliness that led me to your bed last night. Because then I’d be able to walk away from all this shit and not look back.”

“But that’s what you should do. You shouldn’t stay here. You’re risking too much. If you can leave...just leave.”

Disbelief is written all over her face, as if she can’t understand the choice I’ve made. But I’ve made it. Doubts and second thoughts have been plaguing me for days, but even that couldn’t convince me. I’m stuck, knee-deep in quicksand, and I can’t yank my feet out of the sludge to take one step if that means walking away from her.

“You don’t get it,” I say. “I’m calculated. I’ve measured all the risks, and I’m still here. There’s no talking me out of this. I’m not leaving you. I can’t leave you. You mean too much to me.”

Her breath hitches, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. The wall between us crumbles, and I let go of her hands. My gaze drops to her lips, parted and quivering. Dipping my head, I catch it between my teeth to quell the tremor.

But it quells nothing. The moment our mouths meet, it’s like the floodgates burst.

Her kiss is ardent, so needy, fueled by fear and uncertainty. She’s seeking confirmation that I meant what I said, so I give it to her. My hands are everywhere—her face, her neck, her hips. Gripping. Pulling. Needing her closer. Her fingers rake over my head, nails scraping against my scalp, igniting something primal inside me. I unzip the hoodie, needing to feel her chest on mine.

I love the feel of her. The way her lips tremble against mine, the quiet gasp she lets out when I grip her waist. But it’s the softness that undoes me. Her femininity is entrancing. She’s all suppleness and warmth, and it makes me want to devour her. She’s innocent in ways I’ll never be, untainted by the darkness that’s consumed me, and that contrast pulls me under, drowning me.

I press her harder against the wall; the urgency consuming us both. Her teeth graze my lower lip, and the sting sends a jolt through me, pulling a low groan from my throat. Impatient hands undo the button and zipper on my jeans. I shove it down and allow it to collect around my ankles.

She tries to move back to the bed, back to some sort of comfort zone, and I’m having none of that. She’ll experience no comfort with me.

I grip her thighs, lifting them to wrap around my waist, my fingers digging into her skin as if I can anchor myself in this moment. She’s wet, so ready for me, offering no resistance when I jerk my hips forward and enter her.

The first solid thrust extracts a breathy sigh. The second makes her wince. By the third, her eyebrows pinch together as if she’s straining to absorb the full force of me. I have no intention of going easy on her.

“You can take it,” I whisper. “Take all of me.”

And she does. Figuratively. Literally. I’m swallowed by an abyss. Her mouth claims me, pulling me into an inescapable black hole. Her arms wrap around me, a cage of fevor and need, trapping me there. And her wet heat sheaths me like a second skin, locking me in. She’s a prison. The only prison I never want to escape from.

Her smooth thighs rub against my sides as I ram into her. My hands grip tighter. My hips hit harder. That softness is driving me crazy. Those innocent pleas are pushing me to the brink of madness. I want to ravage her and leave nothing behind.

The thought is there, dark and unrelenting. Something inside me is hellbent on ruining her. When this is over, I want her to lie in the wreckage of who she used to be and know it was me who destroyed her so thoroughly. It’s not enough to touch her, to taste her. I want to leave a mark, something that lingers, something that reminds her she’ll never be the same.

She’s a contradiction. Fierce yet fragile. Strong yet breakable. And I want to break her, utterly devastate her, so that she’ll always remember that those broken, shattered pieces of herself belong to me.

Her breaths are ragged, feverish against my lips. Her hands clutch at my shoulders like I’m the only thing keeping her from falling apart. It’s an assault, a battle. Violent and raw, yet we can’t seem to get enough. She’s whimpering against my ear, rocking her hips to take me in deeper. She bursts, her orgasm rippling through her. And I feel it. The electric shockwave that throbs along the length of my dick as she clenches around me.

I don’t know what it is about that feeling that triggers me so fast, but I cum almost instantly. I slump against her, exhaling heavily as she milks every last drop from me. I’m drained and weak, and as I breathe in her sweet scent, something strikes me.

It’s an odd turn of events. I wanted to destroy her innocence, devastate her entirely. But she’s the one who ruined me.

She’s in my head now, under my skin. I want her out of my system, but she’s everywhere. Every touch, every sound, every soft gasp has etched itself into my soul like scars I’ll never heal from. She’s stripped me bare, left me raw in a way no one ever has. It’s not just her body. It’s her fire, her vulnerability, the way she looks at me like she can see past the criminal I am to someone worth saving.

I thought I’d leave a mark on her, but instead, she’s the one who branded me. She’s my destruction and my salvation. I’ll never be the same again.

I SIT AT THE DOOR, leaning against it with my eyes fixed on Katelyn. Somewhere between her last orgasm and Bowman coming in to bring her lunch, she lost her fighting spirit.

She’s been lying on that bed for hours now, her gaze pinned to the ceiling, her lips moving just enough to let out soft, fragmented murmurs. She’s running through every possible scenario in her head, living out the worst-case endings before they even have a chance to happen.

It’s grief. I didn’t even know it could play out like this. I’ve seen plenty of trauma before. Fuck, I’ve lived it, but this is different. She’s bouncing between denial and anger, bargaining and depression, like she’s flipping through a manual on how to fall apart.

I saw denial and anger during our fight earlier. She lashed out, slamming me with every bit of her fury to push me away. I can still hear the sharp edge of her voice, see the betrayal in her eyes.

About an hour ago, she moved on to bargaining. She begged me to leave. She said she wasn’t worth my freedom. I told her again and again I wasn’t going to leave her. And the fact that I’ve stayed in place ever since seems to have only made it worse.

Now, she’s hollow. Wallowing in depression.

Her voice rises just enough to break the silence. “Do you think this would’ve gone differently if I hadn’t gone to the gym that day?”

I hesitate. It’s the kind of question with no good answer, and I know what will happen if I let her spiral. “Don’t do that. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Why couldn’t we have met at a party somewhere? I would’ve caught your eye from across the room. You would’ve sauntered over and offered me a drink.”

She’s playing out these delusions, conjuring up these what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. But I need her to stay here with me, stay rooted in reality so that she doesn’t give herself a false sense of security.

“I don’t saunter.” It’s a lasso I use to drag her out of that fantasy and back into this dingy room.

“We would’ve talked for hours, and you would’ve laughed at my jokes.”

“Even in your wildest hallucinations, I would never laugh at your jokes.”

She coughs out a small laugh. “You would’ve asked me to dance, and as you held me, I’d ask: Where have you been all my life? And you’d say—”

“Jail,” I cut in abruptly to jolt her back to the present moment. “I’d say I was in jail.”

Her head rolls slightly on the pillow, her vacant eyes finding me. “Surely, that’s something you could save for the third date.”

The tiniest titter escapes me. She’s drained and diminished, yet somehow, her sense of humor is still intact. It’s weird, but that subtle resilience makes me like her more.

She stares at me for a long time, seemingly nervous to ask her question. “How did you even get involved with someone like Victor?”

I release a heavy breath. “Well...my mom got sick when I was still in high school, so I had to drop out to help pay the bills. She kept getting worse. The bills kept piling up...and Victor entered my life when I was pretty desperate.”

She turns onto her side to give me her full attention, propping her elbow on the mattress to rest her head on her hand. This isn’t something I want to talk about, but if it distracts her from falling into a deeper pit of despair, I’ll tell her whatever she wants to know. I give her some of the sordid details of the shit I got caught up in, fully expecting her to throw some scathing judgment my way. Yet all I get is empathy. She asks about my mother, and how I dealt with the difficulty of watching her deteriorate right in front of me.

It throws me for a loop because that wasn’t the response I was anticipating. It’s this quality of hers that completely disarms me. She’s scared and so despondent, yet she listens to everything I say and offers words of comfort when needed. She’s kind in the most wholesome way and somehow that demeanor gets me to lower my guard every time. I open up to her about things I’ve never told anyone. My childhood. Some of the things I did for Victor, which inevitably leads to more questions about the darker side of my life.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” she asks.

“No...but I’ve hurt a lot of people.”

“Bad guys?”

“Mostly, but not all of them were bad. Sometimes, innocent people get caught in the wrong situation...like you.”

“Have you ever kidnapped anyone before?”

“No. You’re my first.”

“I was your first. I feel so special. You handled it like a champ. A-plus for execution because I thought you were a pro.” She tries to elevate her voice to sound playful, but it’s weighed down by the helplessness trapped in this room with us. “What crimes have you committed?”

I hesitate because I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I keep expecting contempt to cloud her eyes when she takes on an entirely different view of me. But in the end, she deserves the whole truth. I want her to know the real me.

“All of them? Or what I was charged with?”

She seems more curious than fearful, wanting to know the full extent of my depravity. “All of them.”

“Uh...where do I even start?” I run my hand over my head. “I was charged with breaking and entering, possession of stolen property, and accessory to crime because that was the only ones they could prove. That’s why I only got four years. My other crimes...” I look away because I’m ashamed to admit this to her, but I push through and give her my full, candid history. “My other crimes include, but are not limited to...assault and battery...fraud and forgery...concealment of illicit proceeds...” I watch her, the way she swallows as she tries to digest this information, the way she flinches as more of my felonies are revealed, but I keep going. “...grand theft auto...grand larceny...I’ve now added kidnapping...and I’m pretty sure accessory to murder is in there too. God knows I’ve helped cover up enough of those.”

“That’s quite a rap sheet you have there.” Her eyes are wide with surprise, but she tries to play it off like it’s no big deal. “I see why you thought comedy was a better career choice. There may still be hope for you, though. Maybe you can be my warm-up act one day. We’d be fire.” It’s meant to be light-hearted, but she still sounds so dead inside. Somewhere in her head, she knows she’s living in a delusion as a mechanism to deal with all this. “Imagine if things had been different. Don’t you think we could’ve been good together?”

I groan inwardly. “Katie, please stop doing this to yourself.”

“I can’t.” She drops back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling again. “I rather focus on the what-ifs because if I think of what’s actually happening right now, it only makes me realize how grim things are.”

She goes quiet again, mumbling softly to herself, and a few minutes later, a sharp sob breaks the silence. “I’m going to die here, Alex.”

“You’re not going to die.”

Her laugh is bitter, devoid of humor. “Victor’s going to kill me. He’s going to torture me first...and then he’s going to light me on fire.”

The way she says it, so flat and emotionless, makes my chest tighten because it doesn’t sound like her at all. “That’s not going to happen.”

Her lips curve into the faintest, most joyless smile. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can,” I say, my voice hardening. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. And your dad is gonna come through on time. He’ll hand over the files, and Vic will let you go.”

She snorts, her eyes darting back to the ceiling. “My father doesn’t have the files.”

I sit up straighter, narrowing my eyes. “What?”

“He doesn’t have them. I do.”

The words are so quiet I almost think I imagined them. “Where? At your house? Can’t be. I checked. Smith went back to check. There was nothing there.”

Her gaze remains fixated on the ceiling. “That’s because I have them...here with me. He told me that.”

I stare at her, unsure if she’s still living in a delusion. “Katie, you’re not thinking straight. Your father didn’t say that.”

“Yes, he did.” Her voice is eerily calm. “He told me he knows I’ll find a way to escape.”

I think back on the conversation, and that’s not what he said. “He said you’ll find a way to escape the trauma .”

“That’s how the game works. I had to piece it together.”

I don’t know if it’s her or the confusion that’s frustrating me more. “What game?” Moving to the bed, I kneel beside it and tug her arm until she’s sitting up. “What are you talking about?”

“I just figured it out.” Tired and slurred, the words stumble out of her. “I have the power to overcome evil.”

I run my hand down my face, willing myself to keep my aggravation in check. Cupping her face, I force her to look at me. “Katie, you’re not making any sense.”

“Don’t you see? He said he loves me with his whole heart . It’s right here.”

“Where?”

She slowly lifts her hand, her fingers grazing the heart-shaped locket resting against her collarbone.

It slams into me with the force of a falling boulder.

I stare at the small piece of jewelry I’d dismissed a hundred times, and my stomach knots. “The locket?”

I slowly reach around her neck to undo the clasp. I hold it in my palm, turning it over carefully. It feels heavier now, weighted with a significance I didn’t notice before. As I inspect it, I notice the faint lines and grooves etched into the metal, too intricate for a simple piece of jewelry.

“This isn’t just a locket?” I murmur, more to myself than to her.

“I don’t think so. When he gave it to me, he told me to never take it off because as long as I had it, I’d always have the power to overcome any evil in this world. That sounds a lot like Victor, doesn’t it?”

I don’t answer, my focus locked on the locket. “You said he refashioned it.”

I study it more closely. The intricate mechanisms are familiar, similar to the safes I’ve broken into a hundred times before but miniaturized. My fingers work carefully, twisting the tiny clasp on the side. With a soft, precise click, the photo inside shifts and pops free.

Beneath the picture of her family lies a microSD card, no bigger than my thumbnail. Its matte black surface gleams faintly under the dim light, the metallic gold contacts catching my eye. I pluck it out with my thumb and forefinger, turning it over in my hand.

“Why did my father give it to me instead of just going straight to the police?”

“Maybe he doesn’t have enough just yet,” I offer. “I don’t know. All I know is that Victor made him think some big drug deal was gonna go down with another gang, and your father was waiting for that before he went to the cops. He wanted to bust them both, but the deal wasn’t even real.”

We sit there, quietly staring at the power we now have in our grasp.

“Let’s just give it to him,” Katie suggests, breaking the loaded silence. “If we give it to him, he’ll let me go, and you can disappear. No one will ever know you were involved.”

As tempting as that sounds, I can’t go through with it. We might get out of this, but Victor will still go after her father, and I can’t let that happen. He needs to be stopped.

“If your father wanted you to do that, would he have told you to escape?”

Her expression falters, and she shakes her head.

Exactly. Kenji wouldn’t have told her to get away if he wanted Victor to have this. He knows what’s on this chip, and he knows the kind of man Victor is. Just like I do. I’ve seen enough of Victor’s atrocities to understand why Kenji would take such a massive risk. He doesn’t want Victor to go unpunished, but it doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t have a backup plan.

“What about copies?” I ask. “Do you think your dad made other copies?”

“I don’t think so. After they broke into his office, he said something about how dangerous it is to keep anything physical. And then, about a week later, he gave me the locket for my birthday. If he had backups, he wouldn’t have kept them anywhere Victor could get to.”

“But what about encrypted drives or cloud storage?”

She bites her lip, looking worried. “I doubt it. My dad loves me, Alex. More than anything. If he had another copy, he wouldn’t let me put myself at risk. He wouldn’t have told me to escape.”

“Well, then...” I exhale a loaded breath. “If your dad wants you to escape, then that’s what you need to do.”

“But how?” Her voice cracks as that thought sinks in, her fear breaking through. “We can’t just walk out of here. What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, sounding as uncertain as her. “But your dad’s trusting you to figure it out.”

She looks around the room, the task becoming more daunting when she can’t find a single thing to help her. She exhales shakily, her eyes glassy and brimming with tears. “What if I can’t?”

I place the locket back in her hand, my fingers curling over hers. “You can. And you will.”

Our gazes lock, and it feels like the room narrows, the weight of the world pressing down on both of us. We don’t have a plan yet. But we have something now. And that’s a start.

THE SMELL OF GREASE hits me the second I step into the kitchen. Bowman’s hunched over the table, scarfing down a cheeseburger like it’s his first meal in days, a deck of cards splayed out between him and Smith. Smith, as usual, looks like he’s ready to start trouble, that smug grin plastered on his face as he lays down a winning hand.

It's almost ten p.m., the perfect time to scout the area, but I need to get out of here without anyone getting suspicious.

“Got a minute?” I ask Bowman, keeping my tone casual.

He wipes a smear of ketchup off his lip with the back of his hand and glances up. “What’s up?”

“Can you watch her for about an hour?” I hand him the key to her room. “I just need a break.”

Bowman laughs, his shoulders shaking as he shuffles the cards for another round. “Where you gonna go, huh? You’re stuck here just like the rest of us.”

“I’m gonna take the van and go for a drive.” He knows me well enough to buy it. Driving’s always been my way to blow off steam.

He pauses mid-shuffle, squinting at me. “You serious?”

“Yeah. Just an hour. This bitch is driving me nuts . She keeps asking for sushi and iced coffee like this is some five-star hotel. And if she’s not demanding stupid shit, she’s crying.” I sigh, as if I’m battling to restrain my annoyance. “I just need some peace and quiet for a while.”

Bowman huffs out a laugh. “Wow, she’s a princess, alright.”

“Yeah. Can you blame me for wanting a break? Smith, keys.” I pause with my hand on the knob as I wait for him to chuck them to me. “Oh, and can you take her something to eat and a cup of coffee?”

“Another one?” Bowman asks, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the fifth time in four hours.”

“Yeah, well, it’s easier to keep her quiet that way.”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when she starts thinking you’re her personal room service.”

I smirk. “I owe you one, and don’t forget—”

“Extra creamer. I know from the last four times.”

“And Smith.” I shoot him a warning look. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

“He knows better,” Bowman assures me as he tosses the cards onto the table. “Now, go. See you in an hour.”

I head to the van, taking slow steps as I discreetly scan the area. The guard’s stationed near the delivery entrance a few yards away, smoking a cigarette, but the cameras on the perimeter fence concern me more. Their rotation patterns are predictable but short. No more than forty-five seconds between each sweep, but the distance between the kitchen door and the fence is manageable if she’s fast enough. The guard is slightly overweight and a smoker. She could outrun him.

I exit through the delivery entrance, and even with going as fast as I can, it still takes me just under a minute to drive around the corner to the section of the fence in front of the kitchen. It’s tight, but it will give her a head start. I slow down, letting the road stretch ahead of me as I think through every step of the plan. If she’s going to make it out, it has to be flawless.

I glance at the street signs as I pass. West Oakland. Industrial warehouses, some factories, and a set of train tracks nearby. It fits Victor’s MO perfectly, plenty of cover and far enough from curious eyes.

Two blocks down, I spot an alley beside another abandoned warehouse. Pulling over, I kill the engine and step out, the night air cool against my skin. The alley is pitch dark. No streetlights. No prying eyes. Perfect cover. I walk through, noting the sharp smell of damp concrete and the faint rustle of a stray cat darting past.

At the end of the alley, there’s a wall. It’s high, but not impossible. With some effort, she could get over. I climb onto the dumpster, hopping up to see what’s on the other side. There are streetlights, but the hue barely makes it over the high wall. In the darkness, I catch a glimpse of tree-lined streets and a few houses.

Warehouses and manufacturing plants go for miles down this road, so I wasn’t expecting a residential area so close by. I take note of the building in front of me, gray and white, with a massive red Murkox logo on the side.

I jump back in the van and drive further down. The road doesn’t seem to end, but eventually, I find a slipway and turn right toward the residential area, then take the very next right. The wall I saw extends down this entire street, separating the commercial buildings from the residences. I follow it all the way back until I see the Murkox sign.

When she gets over the wall, this is where she’ll come out. I turn left down the first street I see, looking for anything that could help her. Doesn’t look like the best neighborhood, and the houses have definitely seen better days, but there isn’t much activity.

No one outside. No witnesses. No real place to hide, if I’m being honest. I keep driving and a few houses down, I spot it: a beat-up old sedan parked in a driveway. The kind of car no one would notice.

It could work. I just have to make sure she has everything she needs to make it work.

I loop around, taking the twenty-minute drive back to Morty’s trailer in Richmond. Grabbing what I need, I pack everything into a small backpack and drive back to the alley. I stash the bag behind a dumpster near the wall, double-checking that it’s well-hidden, but easy for her to grab.

When I return, I knock on the door and Bowman lets me in. I find Katie sitting on the bed, quiet and withdrawn. Her face is pale, her eyes distant, but she perks up slightly when she sees me. Bowman straightens, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“The princess is all yours again,” he says, smirking as he leaves. “You’re right. She doesn’t stop nagging.”

Once the door closes, I lock it and move to the bed, kneeling in front of her.

She smiles, trying to hide her nervousness. “Please give me good news.”

“I found a route,” I say, keeping my voice low. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll work. Now we just need to figure out how to get you out of this building without either of us getting killed.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a flicker of determination beneath the exhaustion. She leans forward slightly, her voice calm despite the tension in the air. “I have a plan.” She cups my face, resting her forehead against mine. “But you’re not going to like it.”