The Offer

My father paled, his bravado faltering under Alexander’s glare. “Of course,” he stammered. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“Enough,” Alexander cut him off with a dismissive wave. He turned to me again, his expression unreadable. “Come here.”

My heart thudded in protest, but my feet moved anyway, dragging me forward like I was tethered to him. Not cruel, but not gentle either, his eyes never left me.

"Do you know what is going to happen?" His voice was low enough for me to hear him enquire.

With a constricted throat, I nodded. With a slight smirk on his lips, he remarked, "You don't seem like the quiet, obedient type your father claims."

I made fists at my sides, not knowing if he was testing me or making fun of me. I remarked, my words sounding sharper than I meant to, "I'm not going anywhere with you." "I'm not your property."

Something, almost delighted, flickered in his eyes, but his demeanor remained unchanged. His presence became more oppressive as he got closer, and eventually I could feel the heat radiating from him. "No," he said, his voice down to a near whisper. “But I will.”

A shiver ran through me, but I didn’t back down. I refused to.

Alexander straightened, turning back to my father with an air of finality. With an unarguable tone, he declared, "She comes with me." “The debt remains. You’ll have a week to pay me the rest, or I’ll take everything you have left.”

“B-but—” My father’s protest died in his throat when Alexander’s cold gaze met his. “Of course. A week. You have my word.”

Alexander didn’t acknowledge him further. He gestured toward the door, his attention back on me. “Let’s go.”

“No.” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Both men froze. My father gave me a severe look, but Alexander's reaction made my stomach turn. He tilted his head slightly and gave me an expression I couldn't figure out. "You believe you have an option?" As he asked, his voice was serene yet slightly menacing.

Not only did I not move, but I also did not answer.

“Dysis,” my father hissed, his tone full of warning. “Stop being difficult.”

“She’s not being difficult,” Alexander said, cutting him off. He stepped toward me again, his movements slow, deliberate. “She’s afraid. Isn’t that right?”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. Was I afraid? Of course. But fear wasn’t the only thing keeping me rooted to the spot. It was anger. Fury at my father for what he’d done. At Alexander for taking me so easily. At myself for not fighting harder.

“I’m not going with you,” I said, forcing the words out even as my voice wavered.

Alexander’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You will. And you’ll thank me for it one day.”

“Thank you?” I spat, my anger bubbling to the surface. “For what? For ruining my life?”

“For saving it,” he said, his tone so matter-of-fact it stunned me into silence.

He turned then, signaling to someone outside the door. A moment later, two men in dark suits entered, their presence as imposing as Alexander’s.

“Take her,” Alexander ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.

“No!” I shouted, panic surging as the men approached. I stepped back, but they were faster, each grabbing an arm with a grip that felt like iron. “Let me go!”

As I struggled, my father remained motionless, staring at the ground. He didn't give me a glance. He remained silent. "Dad!" Desperation tugged at my throat as I screamed. "Don't let them! Take me away please!

But he didn’t move.

Alexander paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. "You'll thank me, Dysis," he repeated, his tone as firm as a slammed door. The men hauled me out, my shouts booming down the corridor, but no one came to aid. Nobody ever did.

As I was pulled into the cold darkness, Alexander's tall, unforgiving figure, a shadow that would follow me forever, was the last thing I saw. I was cut off from all I knew as the door slammed behind me.

---

Outside, the night air hit me like a slap sharp, cold, and unwelcoming. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, but their soft rhythm was drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching beneath polished shoes and the low, menacing hum of idling engines.

Two sleek, black cars waited just beyond the front porch, their tinted windows reflecting the dim porch light like watchful eyes. The kind of vehicles you only saw in crime dramas or nightmares.

Alexander walked ahead of us without a word, his long coat billowing slightly behind him. The sharp cut of his black suit, the precision of his movements, the way his gloved hands adjusted his cufflink with calm detachment it all screamed control. Power. Untouchable menace.

He opened the driver’s door of the first car himself, no chauffeur, no hesitation slid behind the wheel, and slammed it shut. The engine revved with a smooth growl, and within seconds, he pulled off into the dark, headlights vanishing into the horizon like a phantom fleeing the scene of a crime.

I watched him go, numb and breathless. A part of me wanted to run chase after that car, scream at him to turn around and see me as more than this object he’d just claimed. But I couldn’t move. I was rooted there, like a statue made of fury and fear.

Behind me, the sound of a door clicking open broke my trance.

A man stood beside the second car, one of Alexander’s. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a dark overcoat, his face unreadable beneath the brim of his hat. Without speaking, he opened the back door for me, his expression a cold mask of obedience. No kindness. No sympathy.

I didn’t get a choice. I was guided no, grated toward it, like I was some unwelcome item being hauled off to storage. Their grip wasn’t as rough as before, but it didn’t need to be. They knew I was broken just enough not to fight again.

The interior of the car smelled like expensive leather and cologne was expensive, suffocating. The seats were too soft, the silence too loud. I slid in, and before I could adjust, the two men followed, one on either side of me. Trapping me in. Like bookends with guns.

I stared at the back of the driver’s seat, trying to calm my breath. The door slammed beside me. The locks clicked into place. And just like that, the world I knew was gone buried behind steel, shadows, and a man’s promise that I would one day *thank him* for this.

I felt the car begin to move smoothly, precise. No bumps, no jostling. Just forward, fast, away from everything familiar.

I wrapped my arms around myself, not for warmth, but to hold the pieces together. My skin still tingled where their hands had gripped me. My throat burned from shouting. And my heart was a wild, caged thing, beating so hard I wondered if they could hear it.

Nobody spoke.

Maybe that was the worst part. Not the abduction. Not the betrayal. Not even the fear.

It was the silence.

And what came next.