Ava
"Please, you have to help him."
The words came from a woman I had never seen before. She grabbed my arm as I stepped out of the hospital, her fingers cold and shaking. Her eyes were wild with fear.
"Ma'am, I'm just a student. If someone needs help, you should go inside and—"
"No hospitals. No police. Please." She pulled at my sleeve harder. "He'll die if you don't come. You're a doctor, aren't you?"
"I'm still in medical school, I—"
"Please."
That single word made me stop. Maybe it was the desperation in her voice. Maybe it was because I had spent the whole day learning about saving lives, and here was a chance to actually do it. Or maybe I was just stupid.
I followed her.
We walked three blocks to an old warehouse. My heart hammered against my ribs with each step. This was insane. I should turn back. Call someone. Do anything except walk into a dark building with a stranger.
But I didn't turn back.
Inside, a man lay on the concrete floor. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and spreading. He was young, maybe in his late twenties, with black hair that stuck to his forehead with sweat. His shirt was soaked red.
"Gunshot wound," I whispered, dropping to my knees beside him. My training kicked in. "How long ago?"
"Twenty minutes," the woman said. "Maybe less."
I pressed my hands against the wound in his side. He groaned but didn't open his eyes. "I need clean cloth, water, and a first aid kit if you have one."
The woman ran off. I kept pressure on the wound, watching his face. He was pale. Too pale. His breathing was shallow.
"Stay with me," I told him, even though he probably couldn't hear me. "You're not dying today."
His eyes fluttered open. They were the strangest color—gray, like storm clouds. He stared at me for a long moment.
"Angel?" he whispered.
"Not quite. Just a medical student who made a bad choice tonight."
The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Then his eyes closed again.
I worked on him for over an hour. The bullet had gone through, which was lucky. I cleaned the wound, stitched him up with supplies the woman brought, and wrapped his torso in clean bandages. My hands shook the whole time, but I didn't stop.
When I finished, the woman touched my shoulder. "Thank you. You saved his life."
"He needs real medical care. A hospital, antibiotics, monitoring—"
"That's not possible." She pressed something into my hand. A card. "If you ever need anything, call this number. Adrian Blackwood takes care of those who help his people."
The name meant nothing to me then.
I should have asked more questions. Should have demanded to know who shot him and why. Should have done a lot of things differently.
Instead, I just nodded and left.
Three days later, I was leaving my apartment when a black car pulled up beside me. The window rolled down, and a man in a suit looked at me with cold eyes.
"Miss Parker. Mr. Blackwood requests your presence."
"I'm sorry, who?"
"The man you saved. He wants to thank you personally. Please get in the car."
It wasn't really a request.
I thought about running. But there were two more men standing behind me, blocking my path. My stomach twisted with fear, but I climbed into the car.
We drove for thirty minutes, leaving the city behind. Trees surrounded us on both sides of the road. Finally, we turned onto a long driveway that led to a mansion. It was huge, made of dark stone that looked almost black in the fading light.
The car stopped. The door opened.
"This way, Miss Parker."
I followed the man inside. Everything was elegant and expensive marble floors, crystal chandeliers, paintings that probably cost more than my entire education. But it all felt cold. Empty.
He led me to a large office. Behind a massive desk sat the man I had saved. Adrian Blackwood. He looked different now clean, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair combed back. But those gray eyes were the same.
"Miss Parker. Thank you for coming." His voice was smooth, controlled. Nothing like the weak whispers from that warehouse.
"I didn't really have a choice."
"No. You didn't." He stood and walked around the desk. "I wanted to thank you properly for saving my life. You showed remarkable skill and courage."
"You're welcome. Can I go home now?"
"I'm afraid not."
My blood went cold. "What?"
"You see, Miss Parker, you witnessed something you shouldn't have. You know I was shot. You know my face. You could identify me to the wrong people." He moved closer. "I can't let you leave."
"I won't tell anyone. I swear. I don't even know who you are."
"Adrian Blackwood. Perhaps you've heard of my family?"
I shook my head.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Then let me enlighten you. My family controls half the city's underground operations. We deal in things that make good people like you very uncomfortable. And right now, there are people who want me dead."
"I didn't see who shot you. I don't know anything."
"Doesn't matter. You're a loose end. And I don't leave loose ends." He reached out and touched my cheek. I flinched away. "Don't worry. You'll be comfortable here. Think of yourself as my guest."
"Guest? You mean prisoner."
"Such an ugly word." He turned back to his desk. "Martha will show you to your room. We'll have dinner at eight. Don't be late."
An older woman appeared in the doorway. She smiled kindly at me, but I could see the pity in her eyes.
"Come, dear. Let me show you where you'll be staying."
I followed her up a grand staircase, my mind racing. This couldn't be happening. I had saved his life, and now he was keeping me prisoner?
Martha opened a door to a beautiful bedroom. It had a large bed, expensive furniture, and windows that overlooked a garden.
"The windows don't open," Martha said softly. "And there are guards at every exit. I'm sorry, dear. But if you cooperate, he won't hurt you."
She left me alone.
I sat on the bed, trying not to cry. This was insane. Completely insane.
A knock on the door made me jump. "Yes?"
A different man entered. He was younger than Adrian, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. "Hi. I'm Dante. Adrian's brother."
"Are you here to tell me this is all a mistake?"
"I wish I could." He sat in a chair near the window. "Look, I know this seems crazy. But Adrian isn't a monster. He's just careful. Very careful."
"He's keeping me prisoner."
"He's keeping you safe. There are people out there who would torture you just to get information about him. By keeping you here, he's protecting you."
"I don't want his protection. I want to go home."
Dante was quiet for a moment. "Give him time. Once he's sure you're not a threat, he might let you go."
"And if he doesn't?"
Dante's smile faded. "Then you should probably learn to like it here."
He left, and I was alone again.
I walked to the window, looking out at the darkening sky. Somewhere beyond these walls was my life my classes, my apartment, my dreams of becoming a doctor. All of it felt impossibly far away now.
The door opened again. This time it was Adrian.
"Dinner is ready."
"I'm not hungry."
"I didn't ask if you were hungry. I said dinner is ready." His voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "You'll find that life here is much easier when you follow the rules, Ava."
Something in his eyes made my breath catch. It wasn't cruelty exactly. It was something darker. Something that looked almost like hunger.
And in that moment, I realized that being his prisoner might be the least of my problems.