Mag-log inFlorence POV.The moment Anthony stepped into the doorway of the private lounge, my entire body went rigid with shock. I had already accepted, in some dark corner of my mind, that I was completely alone. That I would have to find a way out of this nightmare by myself. But then he appeared, not rushing in with guns drawn, but just standing there, calm and solid, like he had walked straight out of my desperate hope and my deepest fear at the same time.Vladimir’s hand, which was still holding mine, tightened. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm and unyielding. It felt less like a hold and more like a warning. His cold, gray eyes stayed fixed on Anthony for several long seconds. The room fell into a heavy silence. The guards behind Vladimir shifted their weight, their hands resting on their weapons, but they didn’t speak or move.I swallowed hard, my mouth dry. I didn’t understand what Anthony was doing. Why wasn’t he acting? Why wasn’t he running or fighting? He just stood there, e
Anthony's PovI noticed the moment Florence didn’t arrive. It wasn’t like her to be late, and it wasn’t like her to make a mistake in following a plan. My stomach dropped. A sharp, cold tension shot up my spine.Javier and I had entered first. The plan was clear. We would scope the interior, confirm the positions of the security team, and make sure no one looked suspicious. Florence was to arrive exactly five minutes later, disguised as a corporate secretary. She would walk in with confidence and stay calm. It was a straightforward cover. For the first few minutes, everything went smoothly.Then the radio in my ear clicked.Javier’s voice was tight. “Anthony.”“Go ahead.”“She’s not here.”I froze mid-step. “Not here? Explain.”“I saw her heading toward the car like we planned. Then she disappeared into the alley next to the drop-off point. I lost visual. Something happened.”My mind began to race through possibilities. Had she been intercepted? Had she seen something and followed it?
Florence POV My chest felt too tight to breathe. “Why?”He lifted a lock of my hair that had come loose, rolling the strands slowly between his thumb and forefinger. “You walked in here small,” he said softly, almost thoughtfully. “Small and new and breakable. But now—” His gaze dragged over me, slow and unnervingly tender. “—you are in my grasp.”My breath hitched in my throat.“And I do not let go of what is mine.”My voice was a barely audible scrape. “What are you going to do to me?”Finally, he smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was not a comforting one. It was a smile that felt like a door closing and locking in a dark room.He took my limp hand in his, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my knuckles. His breath was warm against my skin as he whispered, just for me to hear:“So many things.”I swallowed hard and tried to sit up straight on his lap. My hands were shaking, but I forced them to stay still. His fingers were still resting on my cheek, and the weight of his touch made
Florence POV He leaned in, his twitchy smile vanishing. “Entertain. Him.” He said each word slowly, as if I were stupid. “Don’t just stand there. Sit.”The man in the corner finally moved. He raised his right hand, slow and deliberate. He didn't point or gesture. He simply tapped his own thigh once.My heart plummeted into my stomach.They expected me to sit. On him.I could feel every gaze in the room press into me, heavy and expectant.Moving slowly, every muscle protesting, I lowered myself. I didn’t sit so much as perch on the very edge of his knee, my body tense, as if afraid the contact would burn me.His voice came from above and beside my ear. It was deep, calm, and thick with a Russian accent. “You think.”I froze. “What?”“You think,” he repeated, the words measured. “I see it. Your eyes move. Your mind works. You are thinking too much for this place.”My mouth went dry. I scrambled for something to say, any role to play. “I— I’m just… warming my voice. I can sing for you,
Florence's POV I stared at the reflection in the vanity mirror and did not recognize the person looking back. The dress they had forced me into was a garish thing of silver sequins and black lace, too tight across my chest and too short on my legs. It was loud, glittering, and it felt like a costume for someone who was not me. The veil was the worst part. It was a thin, delicate black lace, but when they pinned it low over my face, it felt like a cage. Every breath I took fogged the small space between the fabric and my skin, and the world beyond it was blurred and distorted.Angel did not say a word when the two guards came to collect me. She was sitting on her cot, her own performance makeup flawless. She glanced at me once, gave a single, sharp nod that held no comfort, and then turned her face to the wall as if she could not bear to watch what happened next.Maybe I couldn’t bear it either.The two men who entered the room were large, with blank faces. They flanked me, their thic
The heavy door slammed shut behind me, and the bolt slid into place with a final, metallic thud. The sudden silence in the room was thick and heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the overhead lights.A girl was sitting on the edge of a narrow cot pushed against the wall. She had long, dark hair that fell around her shoulders and sharp cheekbones that stood out in her pale face. Her eyes, heavily lined with black makeup, lifted to look at me. They were the eyes of someone who was both deeply tired and permanently on edge. She stared at me, not moving, as if I had interrupted a very private thought.Then, her eyes widened just a little. It was a tiny reaction, there and gone in a second."You," she said under her breath. The word was quiet, almost surprised. Then her expression hardened, and she rolled her eyes with a loud, dramatic sigh. "Great. Just what I needed. Another idiot dropped at my doorstep."I blinked, confused and disoriented. "What—?"She stood up in one fluid, impatien







