I chose my outfit deliberately. Midnight-black silk shorts clung to my skin, paired with a thin-strapped top that whispered rebellion. I threw it on after a warm shower and some comfort soup—strange combo, but it settled me.
The moment I stepped out of my room, the hallway buzzed with tension. Armed men stood like statues, perfectly still—but their eyes moved, sharp and scanning.
"Target on the move," came a clipped voice through a walkie-talkie—Calystron's, probably.
I gave him a quick glance but didn't bother with words. Seriously? Reporting every step I take? What the hell did Knox instruct them—track my breathing next?
I marched to the office. And there he was.
Knox stood by the desk, his figure leaning casually until he noticed me. Then he straightened like I'd just interrupted something vital. His eyes swept over me, slow and assessing. I cleared my throat and turned my head, trying to see what had him so engrossed a moment ago.
"Sit," he said, gesturing toward the sofa without breaking eye contact.
In front of it was a medical kit—the one he made Caeloura fetch earlier. I moved, grabbing the cotton and antiseptic myself before he could approach. I didn't need help.
He froze, arms folded, just watching as I dabbed the wound on my hand with betadine. The sting didn't bother me—what got under my skin was his stare.
"That's not how you do it," he said, voice cool, distant.
Before I could protest, he leaned over the backrest, gently taking the cotton from me. His touch was steady, skilled… almost too careful.
It was bizarre. This man had kidnapped me—or was holding me against my will, at the very least. And now here he was, treating my minor wound like it was glass.
I watched his face as he worked—focused, unreadable. Then a cough sliced through the room.
Kaelvynox stood upright instantly, wrapping up the little operation. But something else pulled my attention.
The large screen in front of me flickered to life. And there—there—was Xavrenith.
My cousin's face filled the room like a nightmare I hadn't seen coming.
"What the hell—?!" I bolted upright. "Is this a ransom? Are you seriously using my own cousin for leverage?!"
But the twist came faster than I could process: Xavrenith didn't look surprised. He didn't look scared. He looked... entertained.
"Calm down, Zaryn," he said like I was the one being irrational.
Wait—what?
I turned slowly toward Knox, who stood like a shadow beside me, eyes locked on Xavrenith with a glare that could slice titanium. Why did it feel like... like they weren't strangers?
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.
Xavrenith ran a hand across his face, trying to stifle a smirk. "Alright, alright. Let's get serious," he said, clearly enjoying this more than he should.
"What's going on?" My voice cracked. "Why is he—" I pointed at Knox, "—the man who literally abducted me—standing here like you two are in on it?!"
"Zaryn," Xavrenith sighed, annoyed now. At me. cWill you chill out for one second?"
I took a breath. Tried to. But I couldn't calm down—not when it felt like everyone else already knew something I didn't.
I had kept secrets. I'd sent that damn letter to Knox. I offered marriage to save my own twisted plan. He never knew the whole reason—but I bet he guessed.
"I only did it to stop the engagement," I whispered to myself. "If I hadn't taken action, he'd be someone else's by now…"
"I'm sorry, Knox," Xavrenith muttered on screen. "I hope Zeyllithra's not—"
"Are you serious right now?!" I snapped. "Explain. This. Now!"
I could barely see straight with rage—my cousin had thrown me under the bus and wasn't even apologizing to me. No, he looked sorry for the guy who took me.
"That's enough, Xavrenith," Knox cut in quietly.
I turned to him, stunned. He stepped forward, one hand sliding into his pocket as if preparing to deliver a final verdict.
"I'll handle her," he said with a calm sigh.
Xavrenith's amusement returned, just barely hidden beneath a pout. "I know you're busy, Knox. I didn't want to do this. But honestly? It's the only way I could think of."
"Think of what?" I demanded. "What the hell are you talking about?!"
"Zaryn," Xavrenith's tone dropped to weary again. "Just... think of this as a vacation. You did tell Syrelunea you were on one, didn't you?"
I was too stunned to speak. My brain short-circuited trying to process everything. It was like my thoughts had slammed into a brick wall and just... crumbled.
"I'll send whatever you need, just stop panicking," came Xavrenith's voice from the screen, trying to sound calm, but the edge in his tone betrayed him.
A vacation? Really?!
Is that what this is to him? A luxury retreat disguised as a damn prison?
My voice cracked with disbelief. "Are you out of your mind? You're calling this a vacation? You locked me in a house guarded like Fort Knox! You do realize this is literally kidnapping, right?!"
"I didn't kidnap you!" Xavrenith fired back, visibly frustrated. "You seriously forgot that you were the one who abducted him? Don't play innocent, Zarynthia! You hired armed men to drag Kaelvynox off the grid!"
I slowly turned to Knox—Kaelvynox—who now stood with his arms folded, his gaze unreadable but sharp. That man was made of steel and storms.
"You stashed him on a remote island," Xavrenith continued, "and what? Planned to pressure him into marriage? That's not just insane, that's criminal."
The accusation hit harder than expected. I don't know why, but it stung like hell. Maybe because... deep down, some of it was true.
Knox didn't speak, but the weight of his stare made me squirm. I turned back to the screen, wishing I could punch it just to wipe that smug look off Xavrenith's face.
"You should seriously be ashamed," Xavrenith added like he was my personal conscience.
"Oh, and you forgot one detail," I snapped. "One of my own men betrayed me. Tied me up. Locked me in a room like some... trophy. You conveniently left that part out!"
That made him laugh. He tried to cover it with a cough, but I saw it—heard it.
God, I wanted to scream.
Knox's jaw twitched, and I realized... he was holding back a laugh too.
Unbelievable.
Everything in me boiled. My fists clenched, feet rooted to the floor as my temper spiraled.
"He can sue you, you know!" Xavrenith kept going. "You're one of the main suspects now, and your sudden disappearance just made everything worse—"
"Because I'm stuck here!" I cried. "That's the only reason—"
"No, Zaryn. It's because you're guilty. And now we're cleaning up your mess."
"You're cleaning it by locking me up? What kind of twisted—? The company is falling apart, Xavrenith! Dad's barely holding on! I need to be there!" My voice cracked from the desperation.
"I'm sorry," Xavrenith muttered, eyes dropping for the first time like even he was feeling the weight now. "I really am."
"Then get me out," I begged. "Please, Xavrenith. Please."
That word—I hated using it. But I was ready to say it a hundred more times if it meant I could go home.
Before he could speak again, Knox's voice cut through the moment. "I'll handle her."
I whipped my head toward him. "What?!"
"I can take care of this," he told Xavrenith coolly, like I wasn't even in the room.
My eyes darted between them like a tennis match gone wrong. "Take care of what?! Hello?! I'm right here!"
Xavrenith hesitated, the background of his office flickering on screen. Even at this hour, he was buried in paperwork. He looked back up.
"We'll talk later," he said quietly. "I don't have much time. But Knox... I trust you."
And then—click. Gone. Just like that. The screen blinked to black.
I turned to Knox, heart pounding. "What is this? What is going on?!"
"You heard him," Knox said, rubbing his temple like I was giving him a migraine. "Consider it a vacation, Zaryn."
He slumped onto the sofa like the conversation had drained the last drop of his patience. His eyes closed. His massive frame swallowed the couch. His jaw flexed, and his breath slowed.
And me? I stood there—trembling, half in fury, half in confusion—trying to figure out what I was supposed to do now. Scream? Cry? Interrogate?
Instead, I stared. Like a damn fool. Watching him. Undecided if I should punch him or kiss him.
I leaned closer.
"Call him again," I demanded.
"No."
"Call him again, Knox! I mean it!"
"This—" his voice was calm, detached "—is exactly why you're being kept here. You keep trying to control every outcome. You can't handle things not going your way."
"What the hell does that even mean?!"
Just then, the screen pinged. A call. I spun to it, hope blazing in my chest.
"Xavrenith?" I whispered. But before the name fully loaded—Knox reached forward and declined it.
"You did not just—" I couldn't finish. I stormed out of the room.
I ran to my quarters, slammed the door, and locked it behind me. My chest heaved.
None of this made sense. I didn't know what was happening in Manila. I didn't know if my father was okay. I didn't know if the company was still standing. And now, I didn't even know if I could trust my own blood.
Xavrenith was supposed to be my hope—my escape. But now, he felt like part of the trap.
And Knox... Knox felt like the key I gave away without reading the fine print.
Wait... He actually doesn't want me leaving this island.
The thought clawed its way through the haze clouding my head.
"That's insane. No. No, no, no…" I mumbled, dragging both hands down my face. I wanted to slam my forehead into a wall just to shut my brain up.
I sat there in stunned silence, racking every corner of my mind for a way—any way—out of this gilded prison.
If only I knew how to fly a damn chopper, this would've been over days ago.
A knock shattered the silence.
I cleared my throat and stood quickly, brushing down my hair as if that could help untangle the chaos I felt inside. I sat down at the small table in the corner of my room and raised my chin like I hadn't just been spiraling seconds ago.
"Come in," I called, composed but cold.
And there she was—Caeloura.
My shoulders slumped at the sight of her. Of course. Just the cherry on top.
"Oh, come on," I muttered under my breath.
"Sir wants to see you downstairs, Ma'am. Dinner's ready and waiting," she said with that suspiciously sweet voice of hers.
Oh wow, dinner? After practically being held hostage? How romantic!
"Tell him I'm fine right here," I said flatly. "I'm not in the mood to play dinner-dates with someone who's holding me captive."
"I-I understand, Ma'am," she stammered and left, her heels clicking dramatically against the floor.
A few minutes passed and she was back—but without a tray.
"Sir says no," she announced with a grin that made me want to hurl a chair. "He won't eat unless you're sitting with him."
Oh, let him starve, I thought and turned toward the window with arms crossed.
But she didn't leave.
"You know," she added with a teasing smile, "if you don't come down soon, you might be dining on bread and water tonight."
I turned slowly, eyes like daggers. She didn't even flinch. Just smiled like I was a toddler having a tantrum.
My stomach, traitor that it was, growled.
I hated myself for it.
"…Fine," I mumbled, defeated.
"Lovely! I'll let him know you're on your way," she said, way too cheerful, and disappeared down the hall.
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw the back of my brain. Then I stood, walked over to the dresser, and checked myself in the mirror. When my hair looked semi-tolerable, I headed out.
The mansion was too quiet. The only sound was the subtle shuffle of boots—the guards, positioned like shadows along the hallway.
As I entered the dining room, the long polished table came into view. And so did he—Kaelvynox.
He sat at the far end, posture perfect, gaze unreadable.
But then his eyes found mine. Swept across me like wind brushing over flame.
I'd been seen in worse, but somehow, he made me feel too bare.
I yanked the chair out with unnecessary force and dropped into it. Caeloura poured juice into my glass and vanished like she could sense the tension.
I drank in silence, my eyes flickering toward him. He hadn't even touched the food yet, just stared at it. Like he was waiting for a signal. Or a war.
I stabbed a piece of grilled chicken and dropped it onto my plate. Started cutting it like it was my enemy.
"Rice," he said, his voice steady.
"I'm cutting carbs," I replied coolly, eyes still on the plate.
"For what purpose?" he asked, like it was a serious inquiry.
I looked up at him, startled by how casual he looked despite the insane situation. Even the way he held his fork was irritatingly proper. And worse—his jaw flexed every time he chewed. And I noticed. Damn it, I noticed.
"Is this your tactic?" I snapped. "A lovely candlelit dinner to make me forget you abducted me?"
He looked up. "You abducted me first," he said sharply, as if daring me to deny it.
I rolled my eyes and shut up, focusing on my food. We ate in tense silence.
"I'm flying to Manila tomorrow," he suddenly said, voice like a drop of ice water.
I froze. My fork stopped mid-air. "And what about me?" I asked, blinking.
"You'll remain here."
"What?" I leaned forward. "What the hell is happening, and why are you keeping me locked up like some porcelain collectible?"
"It's safer this way. Trust me."
He said it like it was a simple fact. Like I should be grateful.
He kept eating, calm as ever, while my brain was going up in flames.
"I'll return soon," he added casually. "And don't even think about escaping again."
"Oh, you can count on that," I said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
This island wasn't my cage anymore. It was my battlefield.
He stopped mid-bite. Fork frozen halfway to his lips.
His eyes—sharp, cold, and all too steady—pierced through me like winter wind.
At first, I met his gaze head-on. I even managed a defiant arch of my brow. But after a few unbearable seconds, my eyes dropped to my plate, and I attacked the grilled chicken like it owed me money.
Still, he didn't resume eating. I peeked again, caught him staring.
"Careful," he said, voice low and smooth, like silk soaked in venom. "You're testing me, little girl."
Testing him? Oh, hell no.
My patience snapped like a twig. Testing you?
I wanted to hurl my fork at his arrogant face.
"What exactly do you expect me to do?" I snapped. "Sip tea and sing lullabies in this godforsaken mansion?"
The way he had just called me little girl burned through my spine. I could still hear it, like a mosquito buzzing in my ear.
He didn't respond. Instead, he tilted his head slightly—just enough to expose the line of his throat.
I blinked. Was he trying to be distracting?
"And drop the 'little girl' thing," I hissed. "Do I look like a toddler to you?"
"Let's not argue in front of our food," he said with maddening calm.
"You started it," I fired back.
He only sighed and took a long sip of water, lips barely brushing the rim of the glass.
My face suddenly felt too hot, like someone lit a match under my skin.
Why do I even care what he thinks? If he saw me as some clueless kid, fine. Let him. But in that case, what did that make him?
I leaned closer to my plate and muttered, "Cradle robber…"
"What was that?" he asked, voice calm but edged with danger.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head like he wasn't worth translating.
He exhaled through his nose, muttered something under his breath I didn't catch.
"What?"
He just drank his water again, clearly done with the conversation.
I couldn't wait to get out of there. As soon as my plate was empty, I stood and left without another word. I felt his eyes on my back the whole way out, but I didn't turn around.
My room—my only sanctuary in this bizarre nightmare—was calling me.
I needed to focus. I had work to do.
Tonight, the plan had to happen.
Kaelvynox was leaving for Manila in the morning. Which meant, tonight, he'd sleep like a king—deep, undisturbed, and unaware.
Perfect.
If I couldn't rely on Xavrenith, I'd reach Syrelunea or Zhyrionth. All I needed was his phone—or his laptop. Either one would do.
I didn't let myself sleep. Not even for a second. My whole body screamed with exhaustion, but adrenaline was louder.
I waited until the digital clock blinked 2:30 a.m.
Game time.
I eased my door open and crept into the hallway.
Vaelricon, the night guard posted at my door, was clearly losing a battle with his own eyelids.
He jumped when he saw me. "Ma'am! What are you doing?" His voice cracked as he straightened up.
I rubbed my eyes, exaggerating my sleepiness. It wasn't that far from the truth.
"Couldn't sleep. I had a nightmare," I said softly. "I'm just going to wake Kaelvynox."
His eyes widened. "Oh... I see..."
I followed his gaze to the far end of the hallway, where Kaelvynox's bedroom door stood like a warning sign.
"He lets me stay sometimes," I added with a fake yawn. "Makes the nightmares stop."
Vaelricon blinked. He looked like his brain short-circuited.
I knew exactly what was going through his mind, and I wanted to bury myself six feet under just for letting those words come out of my mouth.
No. Nope. Not happening. Not in this lifetime.
"I'll go alone," I said, already walking away. "Knox won't mind."
He tried to say something, but I was already twisting the doorknob.
The door opened. Unlocked.
I glanced back at Vaelricon and gave him a casual wave. He didn't move. Like something invisible kept him glued to the spot.
Was he forbidden to enter that room?
Weird.
I slipped in and closed the door behind me without a sound.
The moonlight from the window spilled across the room, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow. The wind hissed softly through the cracks.
I didn't dare turn on the lights.
His bed was in the middle of the room—massive, regal, and way too dramatic for one man.
And lying right in the center of it… was him.
Kaelvynox.
Sound asleep. One leg kicked out from under the comforter.
And wearing nothing but black boxer shorts.
I froze.
My brain short-circuited like Vaelricon's had earlier.
Why—why is there so much skin?
The blanket was tangled at his feet, leaving half of his sculpted frame uncovered.
His chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm, muscles relaxed but defined even in sleep.
I stared. Of course I stared.
How could I not?
My mouth opened slightly, like it was trying to say something… anything.
But all I could do was look.
Like an idiot.
The very first time I laid eyes on him, something in me recoiled. It wasn't hatred—it was worse. A sharp, silent repulsion. He wasn't just not my type… he was the opposite of everything I thought I wanted. Uptight. Icy. The kind of guy who looks like he's never laughed at a meme in his life. And the way my friends drooled over him? I didn't get it. Not even a little. I pretended to swoon too, of course—I couldn't admit I thought he was a walking mood killer. Not when everyone else treated him like he was carved from starlight.
My smirk faded the moment I remembered how Avenora blew up at me over that—how that fight led me straight into Syrelunea's orbit.
And speaking of Syrelunea…
I spun toward the nightstand. Jackpot. His phone was just sitting there, right out in the open. I considered looking for a laptop too, but this would do. One quick call, and I'd be halfway to rescue.
I reached for it—but before my fingers could even close around the phone, arms wrapped around me like a trap had been sprung. One strong arm around my throat, the other anchoring my waist, pinning my free hand uselessly to my side.
I gasped. The phone hit the floor with a loud clatter.
"What do you think you're doing?" his voice was low, husky—like a threat hidden behind a whisper.
My mouth moved faster than my brain. "I—I couldn't sleep. Just... scrolling. That's all."
"Mm-hmm?" His breath tickled my ear, and I swear my soul tried to leap out of my body.
His grip tightened—not painful, but terrifyingly firm. His bare chest was searing against my back, like his skin had been branded by fire.
"I-I was just going back to bed!" My voice cracked like glass. Why was I stuttering like this?
"Who were you about to call?" His tone was mocking, but there was steel beneath it.
I panicked.
"Z-Zhyrionth," I lied, the name flying out like a lifeline.
Silence.
He didn't ease up. His arms stayed locked, his body too close. My heart thudded like it wanted to break free of my ribs. A full minute passed, and my stomach turned with guilt.
"I changed my mind," I blurted out. "I just wanted to check if Syrelunea was okay. That's all. I swear I wasn't going to call."
Finally, his arms loosened. He let go.
I could've run. I should've run. But I didn't. I stood there like gravity had shifted. He moved away first, picked up his phone from the floor, then turned back toward me.
The room was still dim, and yet my gaze burned. Not because of what I saw—but because of what I couldn't stop feeling. He was only wearing black boxer shorts, and despite the cold air seeping through the window, my skin felt like it was catching fire.
I turned away, cheeks blazing.
"You're not allowed to contact anyone," he said, his voice suddenly cold enough to frost the glass.
It hit like a slap. My tongue went dry.
Why? I screamed inside. Why is it fine for you to leave, to talk to the world—while I'm caged like this?
I clenched my teeth and nodded, ashamed and angry and confused all at once. Then I walked out—quick, stiff, heart pounding like it was trying to rip its way out.
Fear. Rage. Guilt. But somewhere underneath it all… was pain.
And I had no idea why it hurt this much.