Chapter 9 ATHENA
ATHENA
I dreamed of a field that never ended, wildflowers swaying under a sky so blue it felt painted. In the distance, a small house waited, safe and cozy. My mother, father, and brother were there, together.
Ace chopped wood on the porch. Weird, he’d never done that. My mother sat next to him, her smile so warm and familiar it made my heart ache. But something about her eyes unsettled me. They weren’t… right. My father stood beside Ace, instructing him, his polished demeanor traded for simplicity.
Still, I ran to them. But the closer I came, the faster the sky darkened. My mother’s smile collapsed into fear. My father’s face twisted, monstrous. Ace hacked at the log like it was a skull.
“Papa?” I whispered. No one heard. I wasn’t really there.
When I reached for them, my arms passed through their bodies like smoke. Then their voices echoed, real this time.
“Athena, where are you?”
Thunder rolled, loud and feral.
“Athena!” Ace’s voice followed, sharper, more frantic. “Come back!”
“Athena!”
The last cry dragged me awake, gasping like I’d been choked, but waking didn’t bring relief.
It brought reality. I sat up sharply, chest heaving, heart racing.
A sterile white room surrounded me. The sheets were too clean, too stiff.
My dress, the same one I had worn when I blacked out, clung to my skin.
But then the flashes came.
The man. The knife at my throat. Then darkness. Panic surged, sweat breaking out along my spine. My breath came out in short bursts. Where am I?
The lock clicked, and a man stepped in. Tall, built, tattoos curling up his neck, piercings glinting. I scrambled back. He raised his hands slightly.
“Relax,” he said, voice low, calm. “You’re awake. Good. I was starting to think that asshole put you into a permanent sleep, and I really didn’t wanna explain that.”
His voice didn’t match his appearance. Deep and husky, yes, but not cold or cruel. His words might’ve even sounded… concerned.
“Who are you? Where am I?” My voice shook. He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his short, messy brown hair.
“Damn, sweetheart, I’m too hungover for a full Q it was a bunker. I noted every door, every shadow, or possible exit.
His footsteps echoed behind me, steady and patient.
I could feel his eyes on me, watching. The corridor was short, barely a few steps long, but it felt like I was walking into my own execution.
The walls were white and sterile, the kind of white that didn’t bring peace but screamed confinement.
We stopped in front of a door, and the guy opened it with a slow, deliberate motion, then stepped aside with a half-smile.
“After you, princess.”
My feet hesitated. But behind him wasn’t an option either.
I stepped inside—and instantly regretted it.
The room was small and suffocating. Not a single window, no visible exit but the one I came through.
A rectangular table stood in the center, large enough to feed a family.
Covered in silver platters, gleaming dishes, and food so rich it made my stomach twist, but that wasn’t what stopped me.
It was the man sitting at the head of the table.
Him.
The same green eyes I once thought intoxicating now burned through me like acid.
He lounged in the chair like he owned the world, and maybe he did, in whatever dark, lawless corner this place existed.
He scratched his freshly trimmed beard as he watched me with unsettling calm, the curve of his mouth bordering on amusement.
His friend pulled out a chair. I clenched my jaw, then obeyed. My breath was shallow, and I could feel the weight of my stranger stare pressing into my skin like a brand. My fingers twisted together in my lap, white-knuckled. He finally spoke.
“I’m glad to see you conscious, Athena.”
His voice was smooth. Rich. That same melodic, predatory tone that once made me melt. Now, it made my stomach churn.
“I wish I could say the same, but I’m not a liar.”
A beat passed, then that arrogant smirk returned, stretching across his face like a shadow.
“Ouch,” he murmured, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me, dollface.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes dragging over my face. “After our last little meeting, I could’ve sworn you were happy to see me.”
Bastard. My cheeks flushed, not with desire this time, but with white-hot shame.
“You must have me confused with someone else,” I snapped. “Someone with low standards and brain damage.”
Alec choked on his wine, sputtering a laugh.
“Damn,” he muttered, grinning at me. “She’s got you pegged.”
“Shut the fuck up and drink your wine, Alec before I choke you with it.’’
Alec. That is his friend’s name. Good, I’d remember his name for later when my father made a list. I turned my gaze back to my stranger.
“Why am I here? I think I deserve to know, considering you kidnapped me.”
“You’re in no position to demand answers. Do I need to put the knife back to your pretty little neck to remind you?”
“You’re sick,” I spat. “And just for the record, I’d rather starve than eat at the same table as you.”
He gave a low chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest as he sipped his drink.
“By all means, be my guest.” He cut into his steak with practiced ease and took a bite. The aroma hit me instantly—garlic, rosemary, butter. My stomach twisted and it’s not from disgust this time, but from hunger.
“Starvation’s a nasty way to die,” he said casually, chewing. “Makes people beg for death in the end, I’ve seen it. Condemned a few, even.”
My throat tightened. Alec chimed in cheerfully.
“Ten, actually. Nic has a flair for the dramatic.”
He grinned like he was telling a funny bar story, not confessing to torture. I stared at him, then at the man in front of me. Their words should’ve made me scream, but instead, my brain locked onto one thing.
Nic.
I finally had a name. I etched it into my memory like a vow.
Nic.
“I want to go home,” I said evenly, keeping my voice steady despite the storm inside me. Both men raised their eyebrows in perfect sync. “It’s in your best interest to let me go before my father finds out I’m missing, because when he does, no one will be able to save you.”
Nic laughed, a low, cruel sound that didn’t reach his cold eyes. He lifted his glass of whiskey, taking a long sip to wash down the bite. Leaning back with unnerving ease, he rested his hands on the table.
“Really, sweetheart? Threatening me with your daddy’s name? You can do better.”
I swallowed my rage and my fear all at once. This was new—this twisted confidence and lack of fear. My father’s name was supposed to send men running for cover, but here, in this room, it was met with mockery and defiance.
“My father will kill you for this,” I warned.
A crooked smile spread across Nic’s face, like he found a sick kind of pleasure in my words.
This man was insane and terrifying. He stood, the chair scraping softly against the floor.
His suit was sharp, and the way it clung to his tall, muscular frame made it impossible to look away.
Alec, meanwhile, was engrossed in his phone, casually eating as if we were invisible.
Nic’s steps were slow, deliberate, predatory as he closed the space between us.
I gripped the arms of the chair, my breath catching.
There was no escape, no angle to run and even if there were, it wouldn’t matter.
His eyes darkened as he drew closer, becoming deep green voids that threatened to swallow me whole.
His hand landed on the chair’s handle, almost brushing mine.
I noticed the size difference, his hand big enough to crush me without effort.
Veins pulsed beneath the skin as he squeezed the armrest, steadying himself.
I clenched my jaw, swallowed hard, and fixed my gaze straight ahead—refusing to meet his.
“You’re just a spoiled little brat if you think your daddy’s reputation will save you,” he hissed into my ear, voice cold and sharp. “I know everything about your family and you, Athena. And if you don’t shut that pretty mouth, I’ll do it myself.”