Luke led me into an elevator, his presence steady and unshakable beside me. The metallic doors slid shut with a soft hiss, trapping us inside a mirrored box that reflected every nervous twitch of my body. I tried to stand tall, to breathe evenly, but the silence was suffocating. My reflection in the polished walls betrayed me—wide eyes, lips pressed into a thin line, fingers twisting together restlessly.
The elevator hummed as it carried us upward. My stomach tightened with each floor we passed, an invisible weight pulling me down even as the machine lifted me higher. I didn't know where I was being taken, who I was about to meet, or why. Every unanswered question pressed harder against my chest, threatening to crack me open.
When the elevator finally chimed, the doors slid open to reveal a corridor so lavish it almost blinded me. The carpet was thick and crimson, soft beneath my shoes. Golden sconces lined the walls, their glow casting long shadows that danced like whispers in the dim light. Luke walked ahead with effortless confidence, his steps silent against the plush floor. I followed reluctantly, every sense on high alert.
We stopped at a door at the far end of the hall. It looked heavier than the others, carved with intricate patterns that seemed almost ancient. Luke raised his hand and knocked softly, just once. For a moment, silence stretched between us.
Then it came.
"Come in."
The voice was deep, magnetic, resonant in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't just a voice—it was a command wrapped in velvet, one that pulled at me against my will. Masculine, authoritative, so sure of itself it made my knees weaken.
Luke glanced at me but didn't move to open the door himself. Instead, with the faintest of nods, he gestured for me to go in alone.
A wave of goosebumps rippled across my skin.
Me?
I wanted to protest, to insist he accompany me, but the words stuck in my throat. I knew if I spoke, my voice would tremble, and I couldn't show that kind of weakness. So I forced my expression into calm neutrality, pretending as though this was all routine—as if I had been walking into dark, intimidating rooms my whole life.
I stepped forward.
The door creaked open with surprising ease, and instantly I was swallowed by darkness. The shift was jarring—the golden glow of the hall snatched away, replaced by shadows thick and suffocating. My breath hitched. The air smelled faintly of leather and smoke, a scent rich and heavy, wrapping around me like unseen hands.
Behind me, Luke bowed—an elegant, practiced motion—and withdrew, leaving me alone. The door closed with a solid click, and I jolted, my heart leaping into my throat. I turned instinctively, fumbling for the handle, but it wouldn't budge. Locked.
Panic flared for a heartbeat before I shoved it down. Calm. I had to stay calm. My eyes strained against the darkness, searching for shapes, for movement, for anything. The silence was so profound it pressed against my ears. I could have sworn I heard my own blood rushing.
But I wasn't alone.
I could feel it—the weight of eyes on me, somewhere in the shadows, steady and unyielding.
"Come closer."
The voice again. Smooth, commanding, but this time it carried something more—an edge sharp enough to slice through the darkness. My already fragile calm shattered into fragments. My heart raced faster than it ever had before, pounding so violently I wondered if he could hear it.
Even when my father stumbled home drunk, reeking of alcohol, slamming doors and cursing under his breath, I had never felt this level of fear. That was chaos, noise, disorder. This was something else entirely. This was control. Power.
Swallowing hard, I took a hesitant step forward, then another, moving toward the sound of his voice. Each step echoed faintly, betraying my presence in the oppressive silence. The air grew heavier, thicker, the closer I got.
Then it happened.
My foot caught on the edge of a rug, and before I could catch myself, I stumbled. My body pitched forward violently, and I landed hard against the floor. Pain sliced through my thigh, sharp and searing. A strangled hiss escaped my lips.
I glanced down and my stomach turned. A shard of broken glass—maybe from a fallen wine glass—jutted out of my skin, glistening faintly in what little light there was. Warmth spread rapidly across my leg as blood began to seep.
Biting back a cry, I gritted my teeth and wrapped my fingers around the glass. With a sharp tug, I pulled it free. Pain exploded through me, white-hot, but I refused to scream. I couldn't. I wouldn't give whoever was watching the satisfaction.
The shard clattered to the floor as I flung it aside, my breath coming in shaky gasps.
And then—footsteps.
Slow, deliberate. Each one echoed, closer, closer, until I knew someone stood directly in front of me.
I looked up, my eyes straining against the dark, and finally a silhouette emerged. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His presence filled the room, towering over me, his gaze heavy enough to pin me where I sat. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I felt it—his stare, sharp and unrelenting, cutting straight through me.
His voice, when it came again, was colder than before.
"I didn't get you here to play around."
He paused, and in that pause the silence felt deafening, crushing me beneath its weight. Then he finished, each word slow and deliberate, leaving no space for argument.
"Now get on your knees."