Caught

Serena’s POV

Drenched in sweat, I woke up with a scrambled mind, and for a moment, I couldn’t even tell where I was. My mind was blank as I looked around the room, the fine fabric on the bed, the rich fibre curtains, and everything else in this room.

A moment later, I remembered where I was, kidnapped, in that man’s house. It was strange though, that a kidnapped woman such as myself was fed last night with the most delicious chicken soup I had ever tasted, kept me in a room this nice with soft bed and all of that, and still, yet to contact anyone to ask for a ransom.

Wait, had he done that already? Was that why he collected my phone? That wasn’t possible. If he had contacted my sister, I was sure he would have also needed me to speak with her, at least, to show proof of life.

I pushed myself upright and dragged a hand down my face, my heart still racing like I had been running from something in my sleep. My sheets were damp, my hair stuck to my neck, and whatever dream I had been having had left behind a heavy, unsettled feeling I couldn’t quite shake.

Coming back to the current situation and leaving my weird dream behind, I muttered to myself. “This is officially the weirdest kidnapping ever.”

I mean, there was no blindfold on the way here, nor was I put in chains as we got here. There was no creepy basement, just plush pillows, a room that probably cost more than my entire apartment, and a housekeeper who looked like she would scold me for muddy shoes on.

And don’t even get me started on the soup. Kidnappers were not supposed to make you homemade meals that tasted like comfort and safety. I remember what the woman… Dalia had said when she brought over the tray.

“Refusing to eat is of no use. You’ll realized that later and beat yourself up. My boss is the kindest man you’ll ever meet, so don’t be so scared."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes at those words.

I could understand the first half of the words she told me, but the part where that man was kind? I just couldn’t see it. I didn’t even want to begin to analyze it at all.

Sighing, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and groaned. Whoever Galatia was… assuming that was even his real name, he didn’t act like a criminal. He acted like a man who was angry at the world and annoyed that I existed in it, which, honestly, might have been worse.

I rubbed my arms and glanced toward the door, my stomach tightening. Nice room or not, I was still trapped, still alone in here, and still very much at the mercy of a man whose purpose of taking me was still unclear.

I knew he was dangerous, I could feel it. I felt something in the air last night when I touched him, but I wasn’t sure. Anyway, I needed to devise a plan, a plan to get the heck out of here as soon as possible.

I was still trying to remember every nuance of his expression as he had uttered the words when a knock sounded on the door.

“One minute,” I called, as I kicked the covers off. I clambered out of bed and pulled a pair of sweatpants over my short nightgown before padding over to the door and unlocking it. I pulled it open a crack to reveal the woman from last night, Dalia? I wasn't sure.

She was holding a large tray filled with fruits and food of all kinds. “Good morning, Ms. Harp. The alp… Mr. Berk said to bring you breakfast before he left.” she said.

I pushed up my brows. “Oh, so he didn't want me to starve?” I said and the woman smiled.

I opened the door widely, and she brought in the food. “The… Mr. Berk said you should be free, you're not a prisoner here.” she said as she dropped the tray on the bed.

“Oh, I'm not?” I asked, sarcasm dripping in my voice. I crossed my arms as I looked pointedly around the room. “Because usually when I’m free, I don’t need permission to open doors or keep my phone.”

Dalia didn’t bristle or look offended. If anything, she looked… amused. “Freedom can look different depending on circumstances, miss.” she said, and I scoffed.

“That’s a very polite way of saying house arrest,” I muttered.

She adjusted the tray, straightening the silverware like we were in a hotel and not a crime scene. “Eat. You’ll feel better afterward.”

I snorted. “You people are very confident in food as a solution.”

“It solves more than you think,” she replied calmly, then glanced toward the door. “Mr. Berk is out, so you can come down to the kitchen and stay with me if you want.” she said.

I hesitated, then shrugged like I didn’t care. “Where is he, anyway? Decided to disappear after threatening my sanity?” I was just testing the ground. I needed to know he was far away so that I could sneak around to find a phone.

There was no way I was giving up, and I knew that this woman was loyal to him, so she wouldn't give me hers even if I begged, so I would sneak around to see if I can find one.

“He had a meeting in town,” she said simply. “Business.”

“Of course he did,” I said dryly. “Kidnap someone, then pencil in a meeting. Very organized.”

A corner of her mouth twitched. “He won’t be back until later.”

I watched her carefully. “And until then?”

“You rest. You eat. You stay here or come down, anything you want,” she said in a gentle voice. “If you need anything, let me know.”

She moved toward the door, then paused. “Ms. Harp… no one here intends to hurt you.”

I didn’t answer. I just watched her leave as she closed the door softly behind her, the lock clicking into place a second later.

After Dalia was gone, I grabbed a white tank top and I pulled it over my head as I got rid of my nightgown, then I slipped out of my room and started the search.

The first room I entered was a guest room that seemed abandoned for a long time, and there was nothing like a telephone there.

The second room I tried was a study. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined one wall, filled with books that looked expensive and serious and completely uninterested in entertaining a kidnapped woman looking for a phone. A massive desk was near the window, spotless. No papers. No laptop. There was no conveniently abandoned electronics just begging to be used in a daring escape.

Of course not, but I checked anyway, crouching to peer under the desk like a rat searching for crumbs.

There was nothing, not even a charging cable.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, standing up and brushing my hands on my pants. “What kind of rich man doesn’t leave a phone lying around?” I asked myself.

The answer, apparently, was the kind who locked his guest inside his estate and went to a meeting like this was perfectly normal behavior.

I slipped back into the hallway and moved farther down, my ears straining for any sound that might suggest I was about to be caught. The house was quiet in a way that felt intentional with the thick walls, heavy air, the kind of silence that pressed in on you instead of soothing you.

The third door I reached was larger than the others.

It was wider with darker wood. There was no kind of decoration at all. I hesitated with my hand hovering over the doorknob.

This was his room.

I didn’t know how I knew. I just did.

The moment I pushed the door open, it hit me. Maybe it was because of the same scent from last night, that warm, deep scent that was unmistakably him, wrapped around me like I had walked straight into his arms. My breath caught before I could stop it, and I froze just inside the doorway.

Okay. That was… unexpected.

The room itself was exactly what I should have anticipated and somehow still didn’t. Everything was gray, black, and white. The curtains, the bedding, the furniture; clean lines with sharp edges, no unnecessary clutter. It was masculine in the most unapologetic way, like softness had never been invited in and wouldn’t be welcomed if it tried.

The bed was huge, neatly made, untouched. The walls were bare except for one abstract painting in muted tones that probably cost more than my car. A dresser stood against the far wall, dark wood polished to a dull sheen, and beside it was a chair that looked more decorative than comfortable.

There were no photos or any personal touches. I stepped inside fully and closed the door behind me. The scent grew stronger the farther in I went, clinging to the air, sinking into my skin like it had a mind of its own.

I swallowed and moved toward the bed.

“Just looking,” I muttered to myself, as if the room might argue back. “For a phone, that's all.”

At least, that was what I told myself, instead, I sat down and the mattress dipped beneath my body, and before I could talk myself out of it, I reached for one of the pillows. It was heavier than mine at home, the fabric crisp and clean, and when I pressed it to my face… God.

The scent was stronger here, like it had soaked into the fabric.

I inhaled without meaning to, then again, slower this time, my chest tightening in a way that made no sense. It wasn’t cologne. It wasn’t soap. It was just… him. Heat and something darker beneath it, something that made my skin prickle and my pulse jump like I was reacting to a warning only my body could hear.

I pulled the pillow away sharply, my heart racing. “Nope,” I whispered. “Absolutely not.”

Something was wrong with him. It wasn't just the kidnapping part; though, yes, that was still very much a problem, but something else. Something was off. Something I couldn’t name but felt all the same. Like standing too close to a storm and realizing too late that the air had changed.

I stared at the bed, at the gray-and-black world he lived in, and shook my head.

Whatever Galatia Berk was… he wasn’t normal.

“You're getting off track, Serena.” I told myself, pushing up from the bed, and started back towards the door, but the moment I stood up, I heard voices coming this way, and I froze, panicking.

My blood turned to ice as the voice grew. I spun toward the door just as footsteps sounded down the hallway. Panic hit me square in the chest, fast and ugly.

“I forgot something,” Galatia said, his voice sounding irritated.

“Shall I fetch it for you, sir?” Dalia asked.

“No. I’ll get it.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. There was no time to think, only react.

I dropped to the floor and scrambled under the bed, little bit of dust brushing my palms as I pressed myself flat, barely daring to breathe.

I heard the door handle turned and footsteps entered the room.

From my hiding place, I could only see his shoes stopping just a few feet from the bed.

“Where is Ms. Harp? Is she awake?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dalia replied. “She had breakfast. She’s in her room.”

There was a pause, then the air shifted. I felt it, even under the bed, like the room had tightened around him.

“Good,” he said finally.

There was a brief sound, fabric moving, a drawer opening and closing. Then footsteps again. The door shut and silence followed, thick and heavy. I waited and counted my breaths.

“You should come out now, woman,” Galatia said calmly.

My stomach dropped, and I told myself he wasn't talking to me.

“Just come out, I can smell you.” He said and I squeezed my eyes shut. Damn, he was talking to me. I had hidden myself even before they got into this room and somehow he knew that I was here?

Weird, wasn’t it?