Captive Shadows

Captive Shadows

Isabella’s POV

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The safe room had been my refuge, my shield against the storm outside. I had trusted it, trusted Alexander’s world, and I had believed that nothing could touch me there. But the echo of gunfire and the flash of betrayal had taught me otherwise. Someone had found me. And now… I was completely alone.

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The first thing I noticed was the cold.

Not the familiar chill of the mansion’s marble, but the biting, unnatural cold of concrete walls in a place I didn’t recognize. I opened my eyes slowly, wincing at the dim light filtering through a barred window too high to reach. The air smelled of damp stone, rust, and something acrid—smoke? Burnt fabric?

I tried to move. My wrists and ankles were bound with leather straps that dug into my skin. Every muscle screamed in protest, every breath catching like shards of glass in my chest.

Panic surged. My mind raced. Where am I? What happened? Why didn’t anyone come for me?

The memory of the gunshot, the broken glass, Alexander’s furious roar—all of it came back in a flood. I tried to scream, but my throat was dry, hoarse.

“Hello?” I croaked, voice cracking. “Is anyone—”

Silence.

The walls absorbed my words, mocking me. Every shadow seemed to flicker with movement, but when I turned, nothing was there. The room felt alive, breathing around me. I was trapped in it, prey in a world that had suddenly grown too big and dangerous.

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I struggled against the straps, testing their strength. They were tighter than any I’d experienced before, reinforced. Whoever had brought me here had planned this. Every detail of my captivity was deliberate.

Tears stung my eyes as I sank back against the wall, realizing just how vulnerable I was. Alexander had protected me before. His hands, his fury, his presence—they had been my anchor. Now, the anchor was gone.

And with it, my world tilted.

---

I tried to remember everything from that night—the ambush, the shattering glass, the shadowed attackers outside. The memory of Alexander dragging me into the safe room, kissing me with desperation… it was the last thing I clung to.

But clinging to memories didn’t free me from reality.

I heard a sound—a soft, deliberate footstep on stone behind me. My pulse spiked. My stomach twisted with fear.

“Who’s there?” My voice was steadier than I felt, but the tremor betrayed me.

A shadow emerged in the dim light. Tall. Broad-shouldered. The features were obscured by a hood. I couldn’t see a face, only the faint glint of metal strapped across their chest.

“Good,” a voice said, low and cold. “You’re awake.”

I swallowed hard. “Why… why am I here? What do you want?”

The figure stepped closer. “Oh, Isabella… it’s not what we want. It’s what he wants.”

A cold knot formed in my stomach. My mind raced. He? Alexander? No… impossible…

The figure chuckled softly, the sound scraping against my nerves. “You’re more valuable than you know. And some debts… they demand payment in people like you.”

I shivered, realizing I had walked straight into a trap. The safe room had been a lie. A cage inside a cage.

---

Hours—or maybe it was minutes, time had no meaning here—I sat in the corner, knees drawn to my chest. Every shadow felt alive, every sound amplified. The floor creaked. The walls whispered.

I couldn’t think about Alexander too much, not yet. Thinking about him would have made me weak, made my fear unbearable.

I focused on survival.

If I could just find a way out… if I could just see a weakness in the locks, a flaw in the straps…

I tugged at the restraints again. Leather groaned but did not yield. My wrists burned. My ankles throbbed. Every attempt seemed to fail. And yet… I refused to stop.

Because if I didn’t keep trying, I might as well already be lost.

---

Then I heard it—a muffled sound, faint, coming from beyond the door.

Footsteps? Or someone else? My heart hammered. I pressed my back against the wall, trying to become invisible.

The shadow at the doorway turned. “No need to struggle yet. You’ll see him soon enough.”

My stomach dropped. See him?

My hands shook. “Alexander?” I whispered, hope and fear entwined.

The figure laughed. “No, not yet. But soon. He’ll come… for a price.”

The words hit me like ice water. A price? What could he possibly pay that would involve me?

---

Time dragged, a living nightmare. I stayed pressed against the wall, listening, every nerve screaming. I replayed every memory with Alexander—his hands on mine, his voice calling my name, the ferocity in his eyes when I was in danger.

And then the thought struck me.

If Alexander was coming… if he was fighting through the chaos outside… then he was walking straight into a trap.

I had to act.

I shifted, testing the straps again, focusing every ounce of strength into pulling free. Pain shot through my wrists, but there was a small slack I hadn’t noticed before. My heart jumped.

One agonizing moment… and my hand slipped through.

---

I froze, listening. The shadow had moved closer, pacing.

I bit my lip, forced my breathing steady, and crawled slowly, silently, across the cold stone floor.

The shadow turned suddenly. “I said—don’t move.”

I froze, heartbeat thundering.

He came closer, slow, deliberate, boots scraping the floor. I tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to go.

And then—a faint metallic click. My hand had found the edge of a discarded lockpick, left carelessly on a ledge. My fingers closed around it.

I would escape. I had to escape.

---

The figure stopped right in front of me. I could see now the faint outline of his face—masked, expression unreadable. His eyes, however, were sharp, predatory.

“You can struggle all you like,” he said, voice low. “But he’s coming. And when he arrives…”

I swallowed hard. “When he arrives… what?”

He smiled, a cold, cruel thing. “Let’s just say… someone has already decided how this ends.”

The words were final, cutting deeper than any blade.

My pulse quickened. Alexander. My heart, my anchor. If he walked into this, it could mean the end. And yet… I couldn’t—wouldn’t—wait to be a victim.

---

Hours passed in a blur of silent planning. I tested the straps again and again, until my wrists were raw, until every muscle ached. But I didn’t stop.

I had to be ready for him, ready for whoever had taken me, ready for whatever awaited outside this cold, stone prison.

Then the sound of boots echoed down the hall—rapid, deliberate, familiar.

Hope surged. Alexander?

The figure at the door stiffened. “It seems… someone has arrived early.”

My breath caught. My heart leaped.

And then the door slammed open…