Trapped

Isabella’s POV

This evening was supposed to be simple. I remember the chill in the air as I stood on the sidewalk, hailing a taxi, the city lights blurring around me. I’d spent the morning with a few friends before boarding the flight, laughing, forgetting for a moment how heavy the past had felt. For once, I thought I could breathe again.

Then everything changed.

As my hand reached for the taxi door, I felt it—a presence behind me. Before I could turn, something sharp pricked my neck. My vision blurred, my legs gave way, and strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me into the shadows. I tried to scream, but a gloved hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off the sound.

“Don’t fight, and this will be easier for you,” a harsh voice whispered, chilling me to the bone.

I fought anyway. I kicked, twisted, tried to break free, but it was like struggling against a brick wall. Every move felt futile, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t let them win.

Everything after that was fragments—the cold interior of a van, the rough jostling as I was shoved inside. The smell of gasoline. The hum of the engine drowning out my thoughts. I couldn’t see anything, but I felt the van moving, every bump in the road a cruel reminder of how far I was being taken from safety.

Why me? What did they want? The questions clawed at my mind, but there were no answers. Just fear, heavy and suffocating.

The van stopped. They dragged me out, rough hands gripping my arms, leading me through narrow hallways that smelled like mildew and rust. My heart pounded, each step echoing like a countdown. I stumbled, but they didn’t care. They just pushed me forward until finally, a door opened, and I was thrown inside a small, dimly lit penthouse.

The door slammed shut, and I collapsed against the wall, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My mind raced, searching for a way out. ‘Stay calm, Isabella. Think. There’s always a way out.’

I tried opening the door but it was locked. The moment I banged the door hard enough, the security alarm went off. The sound was so loud that it felt like my head could split into two. There was no escape.

Is this some sort of human trafficking network? Organ harvesters? But why me? I crawled to the end of the hallway, my hands still clutching my ears to wade off the sound.

Tears streamed down my eyes when I thought of my family. They had no idea I was coming back for christmas. It was supposed to be a surprise. No one would even notice I’ve been kidnapped.

Few hours down the line I heard shuffled noises at the door and I moved forward cautiously.

I stood frozen in the hallway, my heart thudding in my chest as I stared at the scene unfolding before me. The dim light cast shadows along the narrow corridor, but there was no mistaking what I saw—the woman, tall and elegant, her body pressed against someone, lips grazing his as if they belonged there.

The air left my lungs in a sharp, fearful gasp. Disgust twisted through me, mingling with anger, unease and fear. Is he a sex trafficker?

They hadn’t seen me yet. The woman’s hands roamed over him, lingering on his chest, and she smirked up at him with a familiarity that made my skin crawl. He didn’t pull away—not at first. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but there was no denying the tension in his body, the raw energy between them.

My stomach turned. A wave of nausea rolled over me. I wanted to look away, to close my eyes and erase the image burning itself into my mind. But I couldn’t. My feet felt rooted to the spot, my body refusing to move.

God please…

A voice screamed in my head, a desperate plea to run, to get away from whatever twisted game this was. But another part of me—the part that couldn’t stop watching—felt like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to. Something private. Something that made me feel…small. Insignificant.

He finally pushed her away, and my breath hitched when his eyes met mine. The world seemed to stop. His expression changed instantly—shock, recognition, something darker. The woman stumbled slightly, a smirk still playing on her lips as she adjusted her dress.

“We’re done. Get out,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of the heat it held moments earlier.

The woman raised an eyebrow, sauntering closer. “Is that how it is?” Her fingers trailed over his chest.

He slipped a wad of cash into her hand without even looking at her. His eyes were locked on me. “Take it and go.”

She leaned up, brushing her lips against his in a lingering kiss. My stomach twisted again, a sickening mix of revulsion and fear.

“Call me,” she whispered before walking away, her heels clicking softly against the floor. He barely noticed. His entire focus was on me, his dark eyes boring into mine.

I took a step back, my arms wrapping protectively around myself. The hallway felt too narrow, the air too thick. His gaze pinned me in place, a predator locking onto its prey.

Why is he looking at me like that?

He started toward me, each step deliberate, his presence overwhelming. Memories I couldn’t place flared in my mind—the way he looked at me, like he knew me. Like I was something he had lost and finally found again.

But I didn’t know him. I didn’t want to know him.

Get away, my mind screamed, but my legs wouldn’t move.

He stopped in front of me, his chest heaving, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t read. “It’s you,” he said, his voice rough, almost desperate.

I flinched as he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. Every muscle in my body tensed, my pulse hammering. “Who are you?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “What am I doing here? Please… let me go.”

The words barely made it past my lips. I didn’t recognize the person I had become in that moment—small, vulnerable, trapped. The fear was real, a living thing clawing at my insides.

His expression hardened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing his face. “Never,” he growled, the word echoing through the narrow hallway. “You can never leave.”

Panic surged through me, sharp and electric.

Run.

The instinct kicked in, and I turned, trying to break free. But he was faster. His arm shot out, wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him.

I struggled, my fists pounding against his chest as I screamed. My strength was nothing compared to his, and every movement, every brush of my body against his, only made his grip tighter.

“Stop,” he demanded, his voice low, dangerous.

I couldn’t. The fear in my chest was too strong, the need to escape overwhelming. Tears blurred my vision, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

He lifted me effortlessly, his grip unyielding. I kicked and twisted, my body fighting him with everything I had. But it didn’t matter.

I’m trapped.