Elena barely remembered how she got back to her apartment that day. Her body moved on autopilot—walk, breathe, climb stairs—but her mind was a fog of terror. The Don's words looped endlessly: Run faster. I enjoy the chase.
When she finally slammed the locks shut behind her, her chest collapsed, and she sagged against the door. Her legs shook so badly she had to crawl to the couch. She sat there for what felt like hours, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to force air into her lungs.
Her phone vibrated.
She flinched, scrambling across the cushions to grab it. A text from an unknown number lit the screen.
Unknown: Nice apartment. Small, but cozy.
Her heart stopped. Her eyes shot to the blinds, the windows, the cracks in the door. She yanked the curtains shut, every muscle screaming. Her hands trembled so hard she nearly dropped the phone.
Another text.
Unknown: Don't worry. If I wanted in, your locks wouldn't stop me.
Her stomach twisted. She slammed the phone face down on the table, pacing in circles, muttering to herself. "He's bluffing. He's not here. He's just… playing games."
But when she glanced at the window again, she swore she saw a shadow flicker across the glass. Her skin prickled with goosebumps.
Her mind screamed: Get out. Now.
Elena didn't stop moving until she was across town. Her friend Sofia worked at a little bookstore tucked between a laundromat and a florist, and Elena all but collapsed inside. Bells jingled above the door, and the comforting smell of paper and ink filled her lungs.
"Elena?" Sofia's brows knitted as she hurried forward. "God, you look pale. What happened?"
Elena tried to speak, but her throat was raw, her breath shaky. "Can—can I stay here for a while?"
"Of course." Sofia guided her to the back room, sitting her down on a stool. She brought a glass of water, pressing it into Elena's hands. "Tell me what's going on. Did someone hurt you?"
Elena swallowed hard, tears burning behind her eyes. She wanted to spill everything, but the Don's shadow loomed over her tongue. If I wanted you dead… you'd already be gone. Her lips trembled.
"I just… had a scare," she whispered. "Some creep's been following me."
Sofia's face hardened. "Following you? Elena, that's serious. Did you call the police?"
Elena shook her head quickly. "No. I—he's powerful. He has… connections. The police won't help."
"Then what? You can't just keep running until you collapse."
Elena stared into her water glass, her reflection rippling. "I don't know what else to do."
By evening, she convinced herself it was safe to leave. She hugged Sofia tight, whispering thanks, then stepped back into the streets. Dusk painted the sky in bruised purples, the streetlights flickering on. She tugged her hood over her head and walked quickly, keeping her eyes on the ground.
Every step echoed.
Every corner felt like a trap.
When she reached her building, she almost cried in relief. She fumbled with her keys, heart hammering, eager to get inside. The hallway was dim, only one bulb flickering overhead. She shoved the key into the lock—
And froze.
The door was already open.
Her breath hitched. Slowly, she pushed it wider, the hinges groaning. Darkness bled from inside, the blinds drawn tight. Her chest screamed to run, but her legs carried her in, each step heavy as lead.
The smell hit her first. Not rot. Not mold. Something richer. Expensive cologne.
Her blood went cold.
The lamp clicked on.
He was there.
The Don sat in her armchair like it belonged to him, one leg crossed over the other, glass of whiskey in hand. His jacket was draped over the armrest, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked entirely at ease, like a king on his throne.
"Welcome home, bella," he said smoothly.
Her throat closed. "H-how did you get in?"
His brow arched. "Locks are for men who fear losing things. I don't lose."
Tears welled in her eyes. "You can't just—this is my home!"
"Your home?" He chuckled, low and dangerous. "No, Elena. This is your cage. And I hold the key."
She shook her head violently, backing toward the door. "Get out."
His smirk widened, but his eyes darkened, sharp as blades. "Careful, Elena. You think you want me gone. But if I disappear, others will come. Men without my… restraint." He took a slow sip of whiskey, his gaze never leaving her. "You saw me. You don't walk away from that without consequence."
Her hands trembled against the doorknob. "So what then? You kill me?"
For the first time, his expression hardened, the teasing edge vanishing. He rose smoothly to his feet, placing the glass on the table. His presence filled the room, suffocating.
"I told you already," he said softly, dangerously. "If I wanted you dead, you would be."
He stopped just inches from her, his shadow swallowing hers. She pressed back against the door, breath ragged, tears streaming down her cheeks. His hand lifted, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. The touch burned.
"I don't want your death, Elena," he murmured. "I want your fear. Your fight. Your surrender."
Her chest heaved, heart slamming against her ribs. "Why me?"
His lips curved, but his eyes stayed cold. "Because you make me feel alive."
Her stomach dropped.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "And I'm not letting go."
The knock on her door shattered the moment.
Both froze. Three sharp raps. A voice called out: "Elena? You home?"
Her neighbor. Mr. Jenkins. Retired, kind, harmless.
Elena's lips parted to scream, but the Don's hand clamped over her mouth in an instant. His eyes locked onto hers, burning with warning.
"Quiet," he breathed.
Her pulse thundered. Her neighbor knocked again. "Elena? Everything alright?"
The Don's hand slid from her mouth, but his finger pressed against her lips in a deadly hush. His eyes narrowed. Daring her.
One sound, one word, and her neighbor would die.