Chapter 3 – Violet
It’s three a.m. and I’m wide awake, staring at the ceiling like it holds all the answers I don’t want to find.
I can’t sleep.
My body’s exhausted, but my mind won’t shut up. Every time I close my eyes, I see that note—You took something that doesn’t belong to you—and those cold, unblinking blue eyes.
They’re carved into the back of my skull.
Noelle still isn’t home. Her room is empty. Her bed untouched. I try not to think about where she is or what she does every night. That’s her business. I have enough to worry about.
Like the fact that someone broke into our apartment and stole my camera.
Like the fact that I’m alone.
A chill runs through me despite the blanket I’ve wrapped myself in. My fingers grip the edge tightly, knuckles white. I tell myself I’m safe. I have to be. The locks are on. The windows are shut. I triple checked.
Still, my heartbeat won’t slow.
Then—I hear a sharp creak. Like the squeak of a floorboard. From the direction of the living room.
I pause.
It is just my imagination. I’m being paranoid. Yes. There’s no one there. The door is locked. Even if someone breaks in, there’s no way I won’t hear anything. But it’s been very silent in the house.
My consolation almost works until—I hear it again. I freeze.
No.
No, no, no—this is real! I heard it clearly this time!
I sit up slowly, breath caught in my throat, listening. The sound comes again. A footstep. Then another.
They’re here.
Whoever they are—whatever I saw last night—they followed me.
They broke in once. Of course, they could do it again.
I slide off the bed, barefoot, trying not to make a sound. My heart pounds so loud I’m sure it’ll give me away. I step into the hallway and peer around the corner—careful to stay silent and hidden.
I see a man. A bald man. Standing in our goddamn living room like he owns the place. My throat tightens. My scream catches halfway—but I never get the chance to let it out.
A hand clamps down over my mouth from behind, gloved and strong and merciless. I thrash, panic surging like fire in my veins, but another arm snakes around my waist, pinning me in place like I weigh nothing.
I kick. I elbow. I try to bite.
It doesn’t matter.
A blindfold is yanked over my eyes, tying tight. My hands are pulled behind me and bound so fast I can’t even register what’s happening.
“No—please—” I scream through the hand still over my mouth. It’s useless.
I’m dragged. My feet barely touch the ground. I feel cold air, hear a car door swing open—
Then I’m thrown in.
The metal floor of the trunk slams against my side, hard enough to knock the breath out of me. The doors slam shut. Darkness.
I scream. I scream so loud my throat burns, but the car is already moving. I don’t know where they’re taking me. I don’t know why this is happening. I just know I’m going to die.
Or worse.
I writhe, the ropes biting into my skin.
A sharp pain explodes in the back of my head—something hard slams against me—and then everything goes black.
***
I wake up slowly, my head throbbing like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer. Everything is too bright at first, too white. When I try to sit up, my limbs scream in protest.
Where the hell—?
My eyes adjust.
This…isn’t my apartment.
Far from it.
I’m on a massive bed—satin sheets, too soft pillows, the scent of something expensive and masculine lingering in the air.
The floors are gleaming marble, the walls sleek and white with subtle gold trim.
Thick silk curtains spill down from the massive windows across the room, sunlight bleeding through them in streaks.
There’s only one door across the room. It looks heavy, and it has no visible handle. Wherever I am, it’s not just expensive. It’s a cage.
Panic prickles beneath my skin as I push off the bed and pad toward the window, desperate for a glimpse of the outside world—anything to tell me where I’ve been taken.
I barely touch the curtain before the door swings open behind me. I freeze when I hear footsteps. Heavy, confident. Then a voice I don’t recognize but instantly know.
I turn and meet the same pair of icy blue eyes that have tormented me since last night. Those icy blue eyes I saw through the flash of my camera that night.
It’s him.
The man from the alley.
The one who pulled the trigger.
The one who saw me.
And now, he’s here—inches away—and I’m completely at his mercy. He steps inside like he owns the air in the room. I won’t be surprised.
“Hello, Violet,” he rumbles. “My name is Kaz. Welcome to my home. Did you sleep comfortably?”
He’s impeccably dressed in a dark shirt, slacks that fit like they were tailored straight onto his body, and shoes that don’t make a sound against the marble.
There’s a quiet kind of power in the way he moves—like he doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone.
His icy blue eyes lock on mine, unreadable…
but not empty. There’s something beneath the surface.
I’m usually good at reading people, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
He doesn’t come close. Just stands there, watching me like I’m a puzzle he intends to solve piece by piece.
Even as my heart hammers with rage and fear, I feel it—that strange, sharp pull.
God help me.
Because despite the stress coursing through my veins, despite the fury burning under my skin, I can’t lie to myself: He’s devastatingly attractive.
The kind of handsome that doesn’t try too hard because it doesn’t have to.
There’s something about the confidence he carries like a second skin—something magnetic.
And under any other circumstances…hell, I might’ve flirted with him. Might’ve smiled and teased and leaned a little closer just to see how he’d react.
But this isn’t normal.
This isn’t cute.
This man kidnapped me.
And no matter how infuriatingly desirable his presence is—how much my body reacts before my mind can shut it down—I won’t forget that.
I can’t afford to forget that.
Because he’s not just a stranger with a pretty face.
He’s my captor.
And although I love romance books and movies, I’m not one of those damsels in distress who fall for their captors.
“Are you insane?” I growl, my heart hammering in my chest. “You kidnap me and expect me to sleep comfortably?”
He doesn’t respond at first. Just stands there, in the middle of this absurdly opulent room, staring at me with those cold blue eyes like he’s waiting for me to make the first move. The door behind him remains open, deliberately so—I can tell. It’s not an invitation. It’s a warning.
Then, finally, he speaks.
“You saw something you were never meant to see,” he says calmly, like this is a business transaction and not a kidnapping. “And now that you’ve seen it…you stay. Until I decide what to do with you.”
My pulse spikes, fury flooding my system so fast I feel like I might explode.
Stay?
Stay?
He says it like I’m a fucking houseguest.
“You kidnapped me,” I snap, the words sharp and full of venom. “You’re a murderer. A criminal. You should be rotting in a jail cell, not standing there like some dark prince in a palace.”
His expression doesn’t flicker. Not even a blink. But I keep going, adrenaline making me reckless.
“I don’t care who you are or how much power you think you have. I’m going to get out of here, and when I do, I’ll make damn sure you go down for everything you’ve done.”
There. I said it. He doesn’t move. He just stares. Quiet. Controlled. And somehow, that terrifies me more than if he’d started shouting.
He suddenly laughs.
Not just a chuckle or a smirk—but a full, manic burst of laughter that echoes off the marble walls like something out of a goddamn villain origin story. It makes my skin crawl.
Then he steps closer.
Slowly. Purposefully.
I tense, my fists curling at my sides as he approaches, but he still doesn’t touch me.
Doesn’t lay a finger on me. He stops just in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough to smell the faint notes of expensive cologne and something darker—gunpowder, maybe. Or blood.
My breath catches before I can stop it, and my eyes—traitorous, stupid eyes—drop to his mouth.
Full lips. Tense jaw. Perfectly carved like everything else about him.
And then, just as suddenly, his gaze drops too.
Right to my mouth.
For one stretched-out second, neither of us breathes. The air between us pulses, charged with something electric and unwanted and completely insane.
But he pulls back.
Just enough to make me feel stupid for even noticing.
“You need to be rational now, Violet,” he says smoothly, voice dipped in steel. “This fantasy you’ve got about putting me behind bars? That’s not going to happen. It was never going to happen.”
I force a scoff and glare at him, trying to ignore the way my heart is pounding in my chest like a trapped animal.
“You really think that highly of yourself, don’t you?” I snap. “You think you’re invincible, that you can do whatever you want and get away with it.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Newsflash,” I continue, taking a bold step forward. “You kidnapped me. That’s not just illegal—it’s evil. And I don’t care how charming or rich or dangerous you are. You’ve done the wrong thing. And one way or another, you’ll pay for it.”
He turns away, and the moment he’s no longer facing me, I seize my chance.
The door’s wide open—still left ajar from when he came in.
And I don’t think. I just move. My bare feet slap against the cold marble floor as I sprint, heart ricocheting in my chest. Freedom is right there. I can almost taste it.
But I don’t even make it ten feet.
A blur of motion. A rush of wind.
And then—he’s on me.
Kaz slams me back into the nearest wall, one hand gripping my wrist, the other coming down beside my head with a deafening thud. I gasp, my chest heaving, fury and panic crashing through me in equal waves.
His face is inches from mine. Too close. Too calm.
“If you try that again,” he growls, low and cold, “I’ll chain you to the fucking bed.”
I don’t hesitate.
I spit in his face.
His eyes go wide for a second—and then, impossibly, he smirks. A dark, infuriating smirk that makes me want to slap him and kiss him all at once.
“Damn,” he murmurs, wiping the spit from his cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve got fire, zaychik.”
The Russian slips off his tongue like silk.
“Little bunny,” he repeats, softer now, almost like he’s savoring it. “That’s what you are. Small. Soft. But so full of fight. I wonder how long it’ll last.”
His voice dips, and it does something to me I hate. My spine straightens, my knees threaten to wobble.
“Let’s see how fast a rabbit can run when it knows the wolf is always just a step behind.”
I glare at him, breathless. “I’d rather die than—”
He steps back from me slowly, his eyes still smoldering with something I can’t name. It isn’t just anger. It’s calculation.
“You should rest,” he says, his voice like gravel and ice. “Tomorrow won’t be easy for you.”
I narrow my eyes, still breathless from the chase, the wall, him. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he says, taking one last look at me like I’m something he’s already started dissecting, “you’re going to tell me who you’re working for. And why you were there that night.”
“What?” I snap, heart lurching again. “No—I wasn’t working for anyone! I was just—”
“Shut up.”
The words cut like a slap. Cold. Sharp. His voice dips lower. “Save the lies for tomorrow, zaychik.”
And just like that, he turns and walks out. The heavy door clicks shut behind him. Then—click. The lock. I run to it. Twist the knob. Nothing. He’s locked me in.
The silence that follows is louder than any scream. I back away from the door, trembling, arms wrapping around myself as I sink down to the floor.
I try to breathe. To think. To tell myself that this is just some terrifying mistake that will get cleared up.
But that hope is thin.
Tears prick at my eyes, and I wipe them away furiously. I won’t cry. I won’t. But the moment my back hits the bed frame, the dam breaks. I bury my face in my hands and sob—quietly, helplessly, terrified.
Because I don’t know how to get out of this.
And I don’t know if anyone will even come looking.