Every wall was covered in rows of metal hooks and neatly arranged implements—floggers, ropes, cuffs, crops. The stark black walls gleamed under the low overhead lights, creating a mix of threat and seduction.
No windows. No clocks. But cool air hummed from an overhead vent. Mia examined it quickly, testing for any weakness, her fingers working the edges—but no luck. Solid, reinforced. Another dead end.
Think, Mia. Think.
She barely had time to react before the door burst open.
She jumped, spinning to face it, heartbeat racing—but forced herself to relax. She smoothed her dress, straightened her posture. If Axel wanted a show of weakness, he wasn’t getting it now.
He entered, fresh clothes, the faint scent of whiskey clinging to him, rolling off his broad shoulders and sharp suit like static electricity.
“On your knees, doll,” he said, his voice lower, darker. “I’ve had a long day, and I could use a little relief.”
His hand toyed with his belt buckle as he stepped toward her, arrogance radiating from every line of his body. Mia’s stomach twisted, rage battling nausea.
But running wasn’t an option. Not yet. This wasn’t about escape. This was about survival.
Her mind moved rapidly, weighing every option like cards laid across a poker table. There were no good hands right now, but she could bluff her way through it—long enough to find an opening later.
Mia didn’t move right away. She straightened her back and lifted her chin. “Is that what this is to you? Power games? You could’ve just asked me out like a normal person.”
Axel paused, amusement flickering in his expression. “Sweetheart, normal stopped applying to me a long time ago.”
For a moment, she considered compliance—but only for the chance it might give her an edge later. Then, unexpectedly, Axel’s expression shifted. His eyes scanned her, taking in her shaking hands, the tight set of her jaw, the faint tears she refused to let fall.
He sighed softly, almost frustrated with himself.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. A fight unravelling behind his eyes as his mind fluttered over his choices.
Before she could react, he grabbed her—not roughly—but lifted her with a controlled unbelievable strength and carried her out of the room and into a sleek black marble bathroom across the hall. He sat her carefully on a soft chair, running warm water into a deep tub.
“You don’t make things easy, y’know that?” His voice was quieter now, still hard, but conflicted.
Mia blinked at him in confusion. This was not the reaction she expected. What game was this?
“You’re mine now,” he said at last, like a reluctant admission rather than a threat. “You might as well get used to it.”
As he began unzipping the back of her dress, Mia tensed. He stopped. For the first time, his brow furrowed—not in anger, but in… restraint?
“I can do this myself,” she snapped. “Leave me one thing that’s mine.”
Her voice was brittle but sharp, like glass on the verge of cracking. Making Axel silently flinch at her reaction.
For a long moment, Axel stared at her, searching her face like he was seeing her properly for the first time. Finally, he let go of her dress, stepped back, and passed her the towel instead.
“Suit yourself.”
Mia stood shakily, wrapping the towel around herself as tightly as armour. She felt weak, but she’d be damned if she looked weak in front of him.
“Why me?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with fire. “You could have anyone. Why this whole… performance? Kidnap? Mafia king playing house?”
His gaze flickered dark. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he muttered. “For now—don’t fight me, and you won’t make things harder on yourself.”
The sharpest edge of threat was gone, but his dominance was still palpable.
Mia met his eyes steadily, then—impulsively—leaned forward just enough to graze her lips against his cheek in mock defiance. A silent I’m still here, I’m still fighting.
Axel’s hand moved instantly, twisting into her damp hair, tipping her head back, his lips brushing dangerously close to hers. “Careful, doll,” he murmured, breath hot against her ear. “Don’t tempt me unless you mean it.”
His control faltered for a breath before he released her. “You’ve got access to this floor,” he said, stepping back. “Try to run—you won’t get far. But I’ll give you space. For now.”
Without another word, he turned and left, the soft click of the lock behind him sounding louder than before.
Time passed. Mia explored every inch of her temporary prison. Locked doors, reinforced glass, no obvious weaknesses. She tested everything twice, three times—but Axel was smarter than she’d given him credit for.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. The door opened.
“Excuse me, Miss,” came a gentle, worn voice. An older woman, probably in her sixties, stepped inside with a tray of food balanced expertly in her hands. “Your dinner. Would you like to eat at the table?”
Mia blinked at her. “There’s… a table?”
“If you wish.” The woman smiled, kind but tired, wrinkles folding gently into the corners of her eyes. “He wants you to be more comfortable here.”
Mia followed her into a side room—a formal dining space, elegant in dark woods and sharp modern lines. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a view of the city outside, Las Vegas gleaming like a crown under the setting sun.
She sat, cautiously, at the long oak table.
The woman placed a beautifully arranged plate of pasta before her. “Between us… he won’t hurt you in the way you expect,” she said softly. “You’re not here for punishment. You’re here for… more complicated reasons. His father is the one you should fear. Not Axel.”
Mia’s mind spun.
A prize. Not a victim.
Not yet, anyway.
Left alone in that grand room, Mia stared out at the burning sky beyond the glass, twirling the pasta absentmindedly on her fork.
This wasn’t a rescue story. This was infiltration. Survival.
And if Axel thought he was the one playing games?
He hadn’t met her properly yet.
Mia slid silently back into the booth, every step heavy like weights strapped to her ankles. Daniel looked up, concern softening his handsome features. “Everything okay?” he whispered. Looking around the bar wondering what had bothered her so much. She swallowed hard. “I’m fine, don’t worry” she lied, wrapping her fingers around the cold glass in front of her. Fine. A lie even to herself. She watched Axel move through the crowd, laugh at something Amber said, Amber’s red hair catching the light as they became one moving shadow. He was gone. He’d made his choice. Anger ignited in her chest—bright, scorching, consumed the hurt. She clenched her jaw. He doesn’t get to do this to me. I won’t let him break me. He ran straight back to her as she expected. “Not fine,” she admitted, voice low and rigid. “I need to get out of here.” Daniel’s brow furrowed. “Do you want me to take you somewhere?” “Yeah,” she said briskly. “Come back to my place, my rental apartment. Lauren’s not in
Mia slipped into The Lone Wolf with the kind of cautious grace she’d forgotten she possessed. The bar had a quiet hum to it—low orange lighting, clinking glasses, and leather booths dimly lit by flickering sconces. It felt warm, anonymous, far away from penthouses and polished marble and the smell of cigar smoke she associated with Axel and Slade. She found a booth tucked into the corner. Dark. Private. Safe. Her hands were still trembling. Not from fear—well, not entirely. It was the adrenaline. The giddy, anxious buzz of being outside again. Alone. Free. Every step outside that casino felt like reclaiming a piece of herself. Then she saw him—Daniel. He hadn’t changed much. Still that same crooked smile. Sandy hair tousled like he’d just run his hands through it after a long day. The way he walked—lazy, confident, familiar—made her throat tighten. “Mia?” he grinned, sliding into the booth. “Shit, you always look so beautiful, it’s leaves me stunned.” Her lips curved int
The Vegas air was dry and bright, the sun painting every building in the golden evening heat. For once, Mia didn’t feel it smothering her, she no longer felt suffocated. She stepped through the automatic glass doors of a tech store tucked off a back street, her fingers trailing the edges of sleek displays until one phone caught her eye. A rose-gold smartphone, simple and clean—untouched by ghosts. She bought it in cash. No ID. No contract. Just freedom in the form of pixels and glass. A way to communicate with her old life again. As soon as she sat on the stone bench outside, her fingers trembled slightly as she typed in Lauren’s number. She closed her eyes to remember the last few digits, her memory of her former life had slowly started to slip away like it never happened. It rang once. Twice. Then a click. “Hello?” said a voice. Sharp. Cautious. Mia’s heart stuttered. “Lauren?” A pause. Then— “Who is this?” Mia swallowed. “It’s me. It’s—Mia.” Silence
Mia waited in the shadows by the doorway until she heard Axel’s footsteps fade down the hall. The weight of the last few weeks—a suffocating mix of betrayal, fear, and heartbreak—sat heavy in her chest, but under it all bubbled something new: defiance. Freedom. She exhaled and pressed her thumb flat against the scanner. It clicked green. Something about that felt like a quiet victory. He had changed it—updated it after everything—to let her into the apartment. She scoffed at his high hopes for her to come back. She was finally done with chasing a shadow. She slipped inside, the door closing with a soft hiss behind her. The apartment felt hollow without him, too still for the storm she carried inside. Mia moved quickly now, opening drawers with a quiet kind of desperation. She pulled a few changes of clothes into a carry-on, including the black dress she hadn’t worn since the night she first met Axel, then paused at the safe under the dresser. Her hands didn’t shake as she punche
The apartment door creaked open like it hadn’t been touched in days. Like it knew the weight it now carried. Mia looked up from where she sat on the floor, back resting against the cold marble near the wall of windows. She hadn’t moved in hours. Maybe not since morning. Time had melted into something useless—something cruel. A joke of a concept when all her body knew was hurt. Then she saw him. Axel stood in the doorway, shadowed and hesitant. His usual confidence—no, his dominance—had drained from him entirely. What remained was a man wearing guilt like a second skin. She could feel it before he even stepped inside. Her breath stuttered in her chest. She said nothing. He said nothing. He just walked forward, slow and heavy-footed, like each step was penance. His jacket came off and landed on the back of a chair, his hands running through his hair before he leaned against the counter. Silence stretched between them like a blade. “You went,” she said softly, u
The ballroom was too bright, too loud, too fake. Laughter rang out like static in his ears, clinking glasses and glittering gowns blurring into meaningless noise. Axel sat at the edge of the crowd, back stiff, jaw clenched as he nursed a glass of something he hadn’t tasted in months. Whiskey. Across the room, a man in a gold-seamed suit held up a ridiculous beach hat to auction with exaggerated flair. “Private island getaway! A full week of paradise. Bidding starts at ten thousand!” Axel raised his hand before the number even left the announcer’s lips. He didn’t blink. Didn’t look away from the stage. He didn’t care how much it cost. It didn’t matter. Not when he was trying to buy the smallest scrap of peace for Mia. For the girl he had failed. Yet again. He’d already failed to keep her safe. And now, he didn’t even know how to hold her. The holiday wasn’t for him. It was a desperate offering, a way to reach the girl locked inside that apartment with dead eyes and pol