05 - Abduction

Elise’s head throbbed, a dull ache radiating from the base of her skull as she regained consciousness. A sharp, biting cold wrapped around her wrists and ankles. She tried to move, but a metallic clink stopped her short—chains. Her limbs were bound, heavy iron restraints digging into her skin. The air was thick with dampness, carrying the scent of rust, mold, and something more sinister—blood.

Her breathing hitched as her senses sharpened. The dim torchlight flickered, casting long, distorted shadows across the cracked stone walls. She was underground, in a dungeon, or worse.

A sound—slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the chamber. Elise stiffened, her pulse quickening. Someone was there.

From the darkness, a figure emerged.

His face was a patchwork of scars, deep gashes and old wounds marring his skin like a grotesque map of past battles. His cold, predatory gaze locked onto hers, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk.

"Finally awake."

His voice was rough, thick with amusement and something far more dangerous. He crouched before her, tilting his head as if inspecting a caged animal.

Elise inhaled sharply, her heart hammering against her ribs, but she forced her expression to remain blank. She wouldn’t show fear.

The man reached out, his fingers gripping her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him. His touch was like ice, and she recoiled, but the chains held her firm.

"Tell me," he drawled, his breath carrying the faint stench of alcohol and decay. "What is your relationship with Vael D’Rath?"

Elise blinked, confusion flickering in her mind. Vael? What did he have to do with this?

The man’s smirk deepened at her silence. "We saw you leaving his territory." His grip tightened. "A woman leaving his domain is rare enough. That means you’re useful."

His words sent a chill down Elise’s spine.

"You’re going to help us," he continued, voice dark with intent. "Vael D’Rath doesn’t show his face often. But if we have you—" His fingers trailed along her cheek before tightening painfully. "He just might."

A cold laugh bubbled in Elise’s throat. The idea of Vael caring was so absurd she couldn’t hold it in. Her laughter echoed in the chamber, sharp and bitter.

"Vael D’Rath?" she spat, amusement laced with venom. "You think that monster would come for me?"

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk despite the pain.

"The only thing I feel for that man is hatred."

The words hung in the air.

The man’s smirk faded, replaced by a calculating look. His eyes flickered with suspicion.

"Liar," he muttered.

One of the other men—a burly figure with a jagged scar running from his temple to his chin—stepped forward. His patience had worn thin.

"Enough games."

Before Elise could react, hands grabbed at the bandages wrapped around her shoulder. The fabric was torn away with a sharp yank, sending fresh pain flaring through her body.

She gasped, her muscles tensing as the cold air met raw skin.

The men fell silent.

Then—anger.

"You lied to us!" the scarred man roared, his eyes blazing with fury. His grip on her arm tightened as he jerked her forward, making the chains rattle violently.

Elise bit her lip, refusing to cry out.

Their gazes were locked onto the mark burned into her flesh—a brand, raw and undeniable.

Vael’s mark.

The silence stretched unbearably.

Finally, the man who had spoken first leaned in, his voice now a whisper, thick with barely restrained rage.

"This—" he traced a gloved finger over the mark, his expression darkening, "—is unmistakable."

His eyes flicked to hers, gleaming with accusation.

"Vael D’Rath doesn’t let anything escape his grasp. And yet, here you are."

Elise struggled to keep her breathing steady, her mind racing. She hadn’t known. Why had Vael branded her? Just Why?

But the ‘why’ didn’t matter now.

The dagger came next.

A flash of steel in the dim torchlight.

The cold blade pressed against her throat, its sharp edge a whisper away from breaking skin.

"Tell us the truth, woman," the scarred man growled.

Elise swallowed, her pulse hammering. The weight of their fury pressed down on her, suffocating.

If they thought she was valuable enough for Vael to claim—then they would do anything to break her.

And if Vael truly had marked her, then he was the only one who knew why.

Which meant she was entirely, terrifyingly alone.

Elise's body ached. The tight, unforgiving grip of the chains dug into her wrists, leaving her skin raw. Her breath was uneven, her mind foggy from exhaustion and fear. The blood pounding in her ears drowned out the mocking voices around her.

She had no plan. No way out.

Then—

A heavy footstep.

A presence.

The air in the room changed instantly, as if a dark force had slithered into the chamber, sucking the warmth out of the space.

The door didn’t creak open. It exploded.

BANG!

The metal door slammed against the stone wall with a deafening crash, sending dust and debris flying into the air. The flames from the torches flickered violently, casting eerie shadows that danced like specters.

And standing in the doorway, cloaked in darkness, was him.

Vael Laurent D’Rath.

Elise’s breath caught in her throat.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey. His sharp, cold gaze flickered around the room, taking in the scene—Elise, bound and bloodied, the men surrounding her like a pack of starving wolves.

His lips curled into an amused smirk.

"This is it?" His voice was smooth, mocking. "You pathetic rats thought this would lure me out?"

The men tensed.

"Who the hell are you?" one of them barked, stepping forward, his grip tightening on his weapon.

Vael let out a low chuckle. "You don’t even know who you tried to trap? That’s just sad." His tone dripped with condescension, like he was scolding children playing a game far beyond their understanding.

The leader, the scarred man, clenched his fists. "You think you're untouchable, bastard?" He sneered, reaching for his gun. "You walked right into your own death."

Vael exhaled slowly, almost lazily, as if the whole situation bored him. "Did I?"

A flicker of movement—

BANG.

The man closest to him dropped like a lifeless doll, a single bullet piercing his forehead. Blood pooled beneath his fallen body, the metallic scent sharp in the damp air.

Gasps filled the chamber.

Vael barely spared the corpse a glance. His pistol, still smoking, remained steady in his grip.

A second man lunged, blade in hand.

BANG. BANG.

Another body crumpled.

It was effortless.

It wasn’t a fight. It was an execution.

The remaining men hesitated now, their eyes darting between their fallen comrades and the devil standing before them.

Vael sighed, shaking his head as if disappointed. "You bore me."

Desperation flickered in the scarred man’s gaze. In a last-ditch effort, he grabbed Elise roughly and yanked her up, pressing a pistol against her temple. She let out a strangled gasp, her weakened body barely able to hold itself up.

"Move and she dies!" he snarled.

Vael stilled.

Then—

He laughed.

Not a chuckle, not a smirk.

A full-bodied, cruel laugh that echoed off the stone walls, dripping with amusement and something far, far darker.

The scarred man faltered. His grip on Elise tightened, but his fingers trembled slightly.

"What the hell is so funny?" he spat.

Vael wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye. "You think you have leverage?" His gaze flicked to Elise, unreadable, before turning back to the man holding her. "Go ahead. Kill her."

Elise’s breath hitched.

The room went silent.

The gang exchanged uneasy glances.

Elise’s stomach twisted. Was this proof that Vael truly didn’t care? That he’d rather see her dead than be used as bait?

The scarred man’s grip tightened. "You’re bluffing."

Vael’s smirk widened, his voice a whisper of deadly amusement. "Am I?"

For a moment, the hesitation was enough.

Then—

BANG.

Warmth splattered across Elise’s face.

Her eyes widened in shock, breath catching in her throat. The man’s body twitched violently before the strength left his limbs, his gun slipping from his fingers.

A second later, he crumpled to the ground.

Dead.

Elise trembled, the blood still warm against her skin.

Vael lowered his pistol with a sigh, almost disappointed. "Pathetic."

His eyes flicked toward Elise.

She barely had time to react before he closed the distance between them. His fingers, still warm from the heat of the gun, brushed against her cheek, smearing away the fresh blood.

The touch was too intimate. Too possessive.

His smirk returned, dark and satisfied.

"No one touches my kitten." His voice was soft, but laced with undeniable authority. His fingers traced her jaw with a quiet reverence that sent a shiver down her spine. "She’s mine to break."

Elise’s body, already exhausted and overwhelmed, finally gave out.

Her vision blurred. The world tilted.

And as she collapsed into the abyss of unconsciousness, one final thought haunted her.

She didn’t know what was worse—being saved by him… or realizing that she was hurt when he heard those words….