The car cut through the city like a black shadow, its tinted windows hiding Emily from the outside world. She sat rigid in the backseat, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap, though the skin around her wrists still bore angry red marks from Marco's ropes.
Every second, her mind screamed at her to run. But where? She didn't even know where they were. The streets they drove through grew wider, cleaner, and then foreign—far from the broken-down blocks she had grown up in.
Venom hadn't spoken once since she'd stumbled into him. He sat in the front passenger seat, a figure of impossible stillness, his broad shoulders wrapped in a black tailored suit. Even without looking at her, his presence filled every corner of the car. He was a man who didn't need words to command fear.
When the vehicle slowed, Emily leaned toward the glass. Her breath caught.
Iron gates towered above them, wrought into twisting patterns like snakes, guarded by men dressed in suits, each armed with rifles. They stepped aside with mechanical precision as the gates creaked open. The car rolled forward, and Emily's heart thudded faster.
The driveway stretched endlessly, lined with glowing lamps and perfectly trimmed hedges. At the very end sat the mansion.
Emily pressed a trembling hand to the window.
It wasn't a house. It wasn't even an estate. It was a kingdom carved in stone and shadow, sprawling wide with towering columns and high-arched windows. Warm light spilled from dozens of chandeliers inside, casting the structure in a golden glow. Fountains glittered in the moonlight, water cascading in perfect arcs. Luxury cars—sleek, polished machines—lined the drive like a fleet.
It was breathtaking. Terrifying. A place built for a ruler, not a man.
The car stopped at the marble steps, and Emily's door was opened by a silent guard. Her bare feet touched the cold stone, grounding her in the reality she still didn't want to face.
Venom emerged next. He adjusted his cufflinks casually, as though returning home from an ordinary day at work, and walked up the stairs without so much as a glance at her. His men followed close behind, leaving Emily to trail after, her stomach twisting into tighter knots with every step.
Inside, the mansion was worse.
The air smelled faintly of smoke and expensive polish. Marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, so flawless she could see her reflection in them. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls, their glow casting fractured rainbows along the walls. Paintings in golden frames—landscapes, portraits of men with hard eyes and cruel mouths—watched her from every angle.
Emily had never seen such wealth in her life. She should have been awed. But instead, she shivered.
This wasn't a home. It was a throne room. A cage gilded in gold.
Venom stopped in the center of the vast foyer. He turned slowly, his gaze locking on her, dark and merciless.
"Welcome," he said, his voice smooth as velvet, cold as steel, "to your new cage."
Emily blinked. "Cage?" Her voice cracked.
He stepped closer, the echo of his shoes striking the marble like a countdown. "Do not mistake comfort for freedom. You're here because you crossed into my world. And in my world, you don't get to walk away."
She backed up a step, shaking her head. "I didn't choose this. I don't want this."
A flicker of amusement ghosted across his lips, though his eyes remained hard as obsidian. "What you want is irrelevant." He circled her slowly, like a predator studying its prey. "You breathe because I allow it. You stand here because I allow it. And you'll obey, or you'll break. Those are the only choices that exist under my roof."
Emily's chest tightened, but something in her refused to shrink back. She straightened her spine and forced the words past her trembling lips.
"I'm not your possession."
The room went still. The guards shifted, exchanging wary glances, as if they expected him to snap her neck for her defiance. But Venom only studied her, eyes sharp and curious, as though she had just spoken a language no one dared use with him.
He stepped closer, close enough that she felt the heat of his body and the scent of smoke and steel that clung to him. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but it carried more weight than a shout.
"You've got fire." His gaze raked over her, assessing. "Most people who stand before me either beg… or break. You do neither."
Emily swallowed hard, but she kept her chin lifted. "Because I'd rather die than bow."
For a long, heavy moment, the silence roared louder than any sound. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to look away.
And then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved. Not into a smile. Into something sharper. Dangerous. Intrigued.
He leaned close enough that his breath brushed her ear, his words a hiss that sank into her bones.
"Careful, little dove. Fire attracts snakes. And once I coil around you…" His voice dropped, low and lethal. "…you'll never escape."
Emily's breath hitched. Every instinct screamed at her to run. Yet something deep inside—something terrifying—whispered that she already knew he was right.