CHAPTER 6

Angelina POV

“You belong to me now, my Angel.”

His words rang in my ears, echoing like a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes as I stared blindly at the massive bookshelf behind him. Then, my eyes darted around the room. The custom furniture, the closet, the books—the realization finally hit me like a physical blow.

"How is this room planned exactly the way I wanted it?" I breathed, my voice shaking. "How is that possible?"

"I have my ways," he said, shrugging dismissively.

His ways? What ways? It was impossible for anyone to know everything I liked unless—

My eyes widened in pure horror as all the pieces suddenly clicked together.

"It was you, wasn't it? You were the one stalking me this whole time!" I accused, my heart hammering violently against my ribcage.

He didn't answer. He just smirked.

A white-hot wave of anger rushed through me, temporarily overriding my fear. "You are a sick man, you know that?" I snapped harshly. "How dare you do this to me! You are a pathetic, obsessive, ruthless monster!"

His smirk vanished instantly. His eyes turned pitch black.

"Shut up!" he roared, slamming his fist so hard against the wall that the plaster cracked.

A terrified whimper escaped my lips, and my blood ran ice cold. He was the one following me. That meant he knew everything about me. He knew my daily routine, who I sat with at school, and who I spoke to. He knew my address. The black car that had been trailing me for weeks—it was his. For months, I had been completely ignorant of the fact that a dangerous, lethal man was watching my every move.

My mind spun out of control, flooding with thoughts of the dark, violent things a man like him must do every day. He radiated danger. Just from the sinister look in his eyes, I knew he had killed people. I knew he enjoyed it. He probably enjoyed seeing them terrified of him, exactly the way I was right now.

I sobbed quietly. He was going to use me for as long as he wanted, and once he got bored, he would kill me. The thought broke whatever resolve I had left, and my quiet tears turned into harsh, ugly sobs.

Danzel didn't say another word. Instead, he stood by the window, his back to me, staring out into the night. Neither of us spoke. The only sounds in the massive room were my broken sniffs and whimpers.

After a few agonizing minutes, a soft knock broke the silence.

"Come in," Danzel barked.

I flinched at the harshness of his tone.

Robert, the servant from earlier, walked in pushing a silver trolley loaded with covered plates. "Mr. Parker, your dinner, sir."

"Leave it there and get out," Danzel ordered without turning around.

When the door clicked shut, leaving us alone once more, Danzel finally turned to look at my weeping form. He walked over to the trolley, picked up a plate, and set it on the small table in front of the couch.

"Eat."

"I'm not hungry," I sniffled, wiping my wet cheeks and refusing to meet his gaze.

"I wasn't asking you," he snapped, his voice rising in volume. "I said eat!"

The nerve of this man. He kidnaps me, ruins my life, and then thinks he can just order me around?

"And I am not your slave!" I yelled back, my anger flaring again. "I'm not hungry, and I don't want to eat!"

The muscles in his jaw ticked dangerously, and his grip on the edge of the table tightened so much his knuckles turned white. I scrambled backward in panic, but he was too fast. He stormed over, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and hauled me up off the bed, backing me roughly against the wall.

"What did I say to you earlier? Does it just not register in that little brain of yours?" he snarled, his face mere inches from mine. "Why do you constantly push me? The next time you disrespect me, I will punish your family for your actions. They will pay for your disobedience."

My eyes blew wide. No. Not my family.

Fresh tears spilled freely down my face. I couldn't let my mom and Alex suffer because of me.

"Don't let your temper get the best of you, Angelina. You won't like the other side of me," he warned, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. "The more you try to piss me off, the more the people you love will suffer. So, be a good girl and keep your mouth shut."

He released my hair and shoved me gently toward the couch. "Now, eat."

I was far too terrified to argue anymore. Shaking violently, I picked up the fork and started forcing the food down, keeping my eyes glued to my plate. Danzel walked over and sat on the opposite couch, silently watching me.

Doesn't he want to eat? I thought bitterly. Who cares. Let him starve to death, the bastard.

When I finally finished, I pushed the plate away and glanced up. He was still staring at me.

After a long moment, he stood up and walked toward me, opening his palm. Two small pills rested in the center of his hand.

My eyes widened in panic. Are those drugs?

"N-no, please. Don't drug me, please!" I begged, shrinking back against the cushions. "I promise I'll listen to whatever you say, just don't—"

"Drugs?" he interrupted, frowning in genuine confusion. "These are painkillers. For your ribs. It will help heal the bruising." He let out an irritated sigh and crouched down in front of me.

My breath hitched when he reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His thumb lightly caressed my cheekbone.

"Don't think so low of me, Angel. I would never harm you. I'm not that bad," he murmured. For a split second, a flash of genuine emotion softened his dark eyes, but he quickly composed himself, his expression turning stoic once more.

He stood up and walked toward the door. Before leaving, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "You aren't going to leave this room. If you need anything, call for one of the servants. There is absolutely no reason for you to wander around the house. I hope I made myself completely clear this time, haven't I?" he asked, raising a single dark eyebrow.

I nodded mutely.

"Good girl." With that, he stepped out and locked the door behind him.

I stared at the heavy wooden door for a long time. I needed to get out of here. But if I ran now, he would hurt my family. I couldn't risk it. I was too weak and injured anyway. Maybe after my wounds heal, I'll figure out a way to escape, I reasoned with myself.

With that small shred of hope, I crawled into the massive bed and finally drifted off to sleep.

It had been an entire week since I was locked in this room.

Every single day, Danzel came in for breakfast and dinner. He sat in the exact same spot on the couch and watched me eat in complete silence. We hadn't spoken a single word since the first night. The routine was maddeningly consistent: eat in silence, endure his heavy stares, take the painkillers, and watch him leave.

Why does he even pretend to care?

I spent my days reading. I had to admit, the collection of books he had bought for me was incredible. But while my days were quiet, my nights were terrible. Every night after he locked the door, I cried myself to sleep.

I missed my family desperately. My mother was probably going out of her mind with worry, tearing the city apart looking for me. I just hoped she and Alex were safe. But there was nothing I could do but sit in this gilded cage and mourn the life I had lost.

Robert, the servant, came in every afternoon to clean. He was polite and sometimes tried to lighten my mood, but whenever I begged him to help me escape, he would immediately shut the conversation down.

Physically, I was doing much better. I could finally walk around without my ribs screaming in agony, and my cuts had mostly healed, leaving behind pale pink scars.

For the entire week, every day had been exactly the same. Except for today. Because today, as soon as Danzel left, I was going to break out of this room and escape.

The clock on the wall struck nine just as the door clicked open. Danzel walked in without knocking, Robert following closely behind him. Danzel took his usual seat while Robert set my dinner plate in front of me, offering a sympathetic smile before quietly slipping out.

Danzel leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands as he watched me eat. He looked lost in deep thought, his piercing eyes tracking my every move. I shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

Stare all you want, Mr. Mafia, I thought maliciously. Because this is the absolute last time you are ever going to see my face. A tiny, triumphant grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.

"You're incredibly beautiful."

I gasped, nearly choking on my food. It was the first time he had spoken to me in seven days, and his deep, raspy voice sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. I slowly looked up, finding his dark eyes locked intensely onto mine.

"U-uh... thanks," I stammered, unable to look away from his face. He was, without a doubt, the most flawlessly handsome man I had ever seen. But he was also a ruthless killer who was holding me hostage. He is your kidnapper, I firmly reminded myself. You are leaving tonight.

We fell back into heavy silence, neither of us daring to speak again.

When I finally cleared my plate, he stood up and handed me the painkillers. I took them silently, washing them down with a glass of orange juice. I fully expected him to turn around and leave like he always did. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my left cheek.

"Stay safe, Love," he whispered against my skin.

Then he walked out, leaving me completely frozen in my seat.

What just happened? Why is he acting so weird?

I shook my head, aggressively brushing the confusing thoughts away. I listened carefully until I heard the heavy thud of the front door closing downstairs, followed by the distant roar of an engine driving away.

He was gone. It was time.

I sprang into action. I opened the closets and drawers, pulling out every spare bedsheet I could find. Working quickly, I tied the thick fabrics together into tight, secure knots, creating a makeshift rope that I prayed was long enough to reach the ground.

Once it was finished, I dragged a heavy armchair over to the window, tied one end of the rope securely around its base, and tossed the rest out the open window. I peered over the ledge, my stomach dropping at the height, and tried to gather my courage.

I had learned how to climb ropes at summer camp, but that was years ago. Taking a deep breath, I rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans and carefully swung my leg over the windowsill.

As I sat perched on the ledge, my mind inexplicably drifted back to Danzel—to the intensity in his eyes, the roughness of his voice, and the surprising softness of his kiss just moments ago.

Stop it! I mentally slapped myself. Do not think about the man who abducted you while you are literally in the middle of escaping! It's just Stockholm Syndrome playing tricks on your mind.

I was so consumed by my internal scolding that I completely missed the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

"Robert! Where is my bloody phone?"

Danzel's furious yell echoed up the grand staircase.

My blood froze. Oh my God. He's home. He didn't leave.

I snapped my head around and looked at the small table near the couch. Sitting right there on the glass surface was Danzel's black cell phone.

Crap.

I heard his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs. I had two choices: scramble back inside and pretend I was just enjoying the night air, or climb down as fast as humanly possible. Panic won. I grabbed the sheet tightly and began lowering myself over the edge.

Just as my head cleared the windowsill, the bedroom door burst open.

"I just forg—" Danzel's voice cut off abruptly. "What the hell? Angelina, where the fuck are you?"

A second later, his head snapped toward the open window, and he lunged across the room, leaning out to look down at me.

"Guards, get her!" he roared furiously into the night air. He glared down at me, his eyes wild with panic and rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You idiot!"

My heart hammered so hard it actually hurt. The sheer terror in his voice caused my sweaty fingers to slip slightly against the fabric.

"Please, please don't hurt me! Just let me go!" I sobbed, looking up at his furious face.

"Get the fuck back up here, Angelina," he warned, his voice dangerously low. "Or I swear to God, I will—"

"Please don't kill me!" I cried, my knees shaking violently against the side of the house. My hands were cramping, the muscles screaming in protest.

"Whoa—oh my God, I'm going to fall!" I screamed as my grip slipped another few inches.

Danzel's fury vanished, instantly replaced by sheer, blinding panic. "Don't move, Love! You won't fall. Where are the fucking guards?" he roared, looking wildly around the dark estate. "Get a ladder! Get her down from there! Fucking hurry up!"

"N-no! I won't come down!" I cried, shaking my head stubbornly even as tears streamed down my face.

"Why?" he yelled, looking genuinely bewildered.

"Because you'll kill me!" I sobbed.

"I am not going to kill you, Angelina!" he yelled back, desperation bleeding into his voice.

But his words sounded muffled. A sudden wave of intense dizziness hit me. My head spun wildly, and the ground below seemed to tilt. My fingers were burning, my strength completely giving out.

"Fuck!" Danzel cursed, seeing my eyes roll back. "Angelina, do not close your eyes! I'm coming down to get you, just don't let go!"

Without hesitating, he swung his massive frame over the windowsill and began descending the knotted sheets toward me.

My vision blurred into dark, fuzzy patches. The tears wouldn't stop.

"Angelina!" he called out, his voice much closer now. "Please, Love, keep your eyes open. Come on, grab my hand!" He reached down, stretching his arm toward me.

But my arms felt like lead. I couldn't lift them. I couldn't hold on any longer. My body finally gave out, and my fingers slipped completely off the fabric.

"NO!"

Danzel's agonized scream echoed through the night air as the world finally went pitch black.