The Command

The blackout swallowed the apartment whole. One second, the lights were flickering, and the next—darkness.

I froze in the middle of the living room, heart hammering. The air conditioner clicked off, leaving only the sound of rain pounding against the windows. Somewhere outside, a car door slammed.

No.

I reached for my phone on the table, fumbling in the dark. The screen lit up the room with a cold, blue glow. No signal. Of course.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered, trying again, but the spinning icon mocked me. My fingers trembled as I backed toward the kitchen, where I kept a small knife in the drawer—not because I expected to need it, but because this city didn’t give you many reasons to feel safe.

A noise came from the hallway. The floor creaked—slow, careful steps.

My stomach turned to ice.

I held my breath, every muscle tense. Then, just as I reached for the knife, a knock echoed through the door. Not loud. Just two soft, deliberate taps.

No one knocked like that in this neighborhood.

I didn’t answer. I stayed completely still, praying whoever it was would leave. But then came the voice—calm, deep, controlled.

“Miss DeLuca.”

My knees nearly gave out. He knew my name.

Another knock. Louder this time.

“Please open the door,” the voice said. “We just want to talk.”

Liar.

I moved backward until my back hit the wall. My mind scrambled for options—back door, fire escape, anything—but I’d just moved into this apartment last month, and the only exit besides the front door was the small window in the bedroom.

The lock clicked.

They were inside.

“Hey!” I shouted, more out of instinct than courage. “I’m calling the cops!”

Silence. Then footsteps again, softer this time. Shadows moved against the faint light from the street.

I ran. Through the bedroom, grabbed my purse, threw open the window, and climbed halfway out into the cold rain. But before I could swing my leg over the ledge, an arm grabbed my waist, yanking me backward.

I screamed and kicked, hitting someone’s shoulder, but another hand caught my wrist.

“Let me go!”

“Careful!” a voice hissed, thick with an accent. “The boss said no bruises!”

Boss?

Panic spiked through me.

I twisted hard, elbowing the man behind me, but he barely flinched. He was huge, built like a wall. A black mask covered the lower half of his face, rain dripping from his jacket.

“Please, don’t hurt me!”

“Calm down,” he muttered, grabbing my arms. “It’ll be easier if you just come with us.”

“Who are you?”

He didn’t answer. The second man stepped closer, holding a cloth. Before I could react, the sweet, sharp smell of chemicals filled the air.

“No! Don’t—”

Darkness crashed over me before I could finish.

When I opened my eyes, everything was blurry. My head throbbed, and my mouth felt dry. The faint hum of an engine filled my ears. I blinked, trying to focus, and realized I was in the backseat of a car. The windows were tinted, and rain still pattered softly against them.

“Where… where am I?”

The man in the passenger seat turned his head slightly but said nothing. His silhouette was sharp—short-cropped hair, thick shoulders, the kind of presence that told me arguing wouldn’t help.

I shifted, trying to sit up, but my hands were bound in front of me with something soft—silk, maybe. My pulse raced. “Please, I don’t have money. I swear, I don’t—”

“Quiet,” the driver said.

The car slowed. Through the fogged glass, I saw iron gates opening ahead, tall and menacing. Beyond them, a mansion loomed in the dark, lights glowing faintly behind rain-streaked windows.

My stomach dropped.

This wasn’t a robbery.

They weren’t random thugs.

The car stopped under a grand porch. One of the men opened my door. “Get out.”

My legs barely worked, but fear forced me to move. The rain hit my face like cold needles as I stumbled out. My bare feet slipped on the wet stone, and before I could catch myself, the man’s hand tightened on my arm.

“Inside,” he said.

I wanted to run. To scream. But something about the quiet, controlled way they moved told me it would be useless. So I walked.

The front doors opened before we reached them.

And there he was.

The man from the supermarket.

He stood at the top of the stairs inside, hands clasped behind his back, dark eyes locked on me. Without the coat, he looked even more dangerous—black shirt, sleeves rolled up, veins visible on his forearms. He didn’t speak as I was brought in. He just watched me, his jaw tightening when the men stopped in front of him.

“Boss,” one of them said. “She’s here.”

The man—Luca—nodded slowly. His eyes never left mine. “Good. Leave us.”

The men hesitated. “You sure?”

“I said leave us.”

They exchanged a glance before walking out, the heavy doors closing behind them. The silence that followed was unbearable.

I took a shaky breath. “You kidnapped me.”

He didn’t deny it. He descended the stairs one step at a time, his gaze heavy, deliberate. “You left me no choice.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something dark and expensive, like leather and smoke. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve searched for you?”

“I told you, I don’t know you!”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “You really don’t remember.”

“Because I’m not whoever you think I am!”

His jaw flexed. He lifted a hand, brushing his thumb along my cheek. I flinched.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“No kidding. You broke into my home, drugged me, and dragged me to some creepy mansion. What do you expect?”

He smiled faintly, almost sad. “You talk more than I remember.”

“I’m not Serena,” I snapped. “My name is Sienna.”

The smile faded. His eyes darkened. “Sienna,” he repeated slowly, like tasting the name. “Interesting.”

“I want to leave.”

“You can’t.”

I took a step back, but he moved closer, closing the space again.

“Please,” I said, my voice breaking now. “If you’re angry with someone, go find her. Let me go.”

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against my ear. “You think I don’t know who you are?”

“I think you’re insane.”

A low chuckle left him, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe I am. But insanity doesn’t change the truth.”

I looked up at him, forcing the words out. “And what truth is that?”

He met my gaze with a kind of madness that made my stomach twist. “That fate brought you back to me.”

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Rain beat softly against the windows, and the faint flicker of firelight from the grand room painted his face in gold and shadow.

Then he turned away abruptly, as if afraid to look at me any longer. “Take her to the east wing,” he said to someone behind me.

I spun around. The two men had returned, silent as ghosts.

“Wait, no—”

Luca’s voice cut through the air. “She stays in the room upstairs. No one touches her. No one speaks to her. Do you understand?”

The men nodded.

“Luca!” I shouted, the name slipping out before I could stop it. It felt strange on my tongue, but I needed him to look at me again.

He did. For the briefest second, his expression softened—like a man standing in front of a memory he wasn’t sure he should believe in.

“You’ll understand soon,” he said quietly. “Why you’re here.”

The men each grabbed one of my arms. I tried to pull free, but their grips were like iron.

“Let me go!” I struggled, my voice breaking. “You’ve got the wrong person!”

Luca didn’t answer. He just stood there, watching as they dragged me toward the stairs.

Halfway up, I looked back. He was still there, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. For a moment, his gaze softened again, and I almost thought I saw guilt flash across it.

But then his lips moved, barely audible over the rain.

“Fate doesn’t make mistakes.”

The door to the upstairs room slammed shut behind me before I could ask what that meant.

The room was massive. Beautiful, even. High ceilings, tall windows covered in sheer curtains, a fireplace flickering in the corner. But all I saw was the locked door.

I ran to it and pounded my fists. “Hey! You can’t keep me here!”

No answer.

I sank onto the bed, heart racing, trying to think. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe I’d wake up soon and laugh about it.

But the faint sound of footsteps in the hall told me this was real.

And somewhere below, I could still hear his voice — low, commanding — speaking to one of his men.

“Make sure she’s safe. No one goes near her. Until I say so.”

I pressed my forehead against the cold wood of the door, fighting the tremor in my voice as I whispered, “What do you want from me?”

But there was no answer.

Only silence.

And the heavy, suffocating feeling that my life had just been stolen by the man who believed I was someone else.