My hands were trembling, knees shaking, heart racing—
and then everything played its part.
I collapsed.
When I woke up, I found myself in a place that looked a lot like our imagination of hell—except there was no dramatic fire everywhere. Instead, the whole building looked worn-out and abandoned. Half-burnt papers and cigarette butts were scattered on the floor, filling the air with a disturbing smell.
Then I noticed it.
I was tied up like an animal about to be slaughtered. The ropes were so tight my hands felt like they might fall off any second. And that was when it hit me…
I was kidnapped.
It was dark, scary—like a church rat's hideout.
Then I heard it: muffled voices, like people fighting somewhere far away.
"God," I prayed, "please don't let me die."
"Hey, honey-bun," a voice said.
A complete stranger I had *never* seen stepped in. He was fit, muscular, annoyingly handsome. He had a sharp jawline, deep brown eyes, and dark hair—not long, not short, just that perfect low-cut that makes a guy look like trouble. Tattoos covered his arms and climbed up the sides of his neck, and one stood out: *"Jamo."*
Whatever that meant.
He loosened the excruciatingly tight rope around my **legs**.
"Yes, just my legs."
God, I hated him already.
"Wanna have dinner or something?" he asked, smiling the kind of smile that screamed, *If you say no, you die.*
So, of course, I said exactly what you'd expect:
"Well… I don't wanna die, so… if you insist."
Instant regret.
He smirked. "All I have to do is insist."
That was definitely a threat.
I swallowed so hard I choked on my own saliva. I coughed, and suddenly he handed me a glass of water.
"Thanks, I guess," I muttered.
"By the way, I've sorted out your room, clothes, and most importantly, a shampoo—because that hair… hmm."
I almost called him a frog, but instantly remembered who I was about to insult.
Though honestly? He didn't look like a frog at all. More like one of those enchanted frogs that turn into princes when kissed.
And who would the princess be?
Obviously me.
Not that I'd kiss him.
Relax.
I *was* a princess though, on princess duties before getting kidnapped by tattooed strangers. But no need to think about my past—I had enough present problems.
He walked me to my so-called room.
"Oh God," I said. "Why do I have a room in this cave?"
He held my hand gently—too gently for a kidnapper—and my heart did a stupid little dance.
He wasn't that much older… maybe five years.
I snapped out of it and asked:
"What's your name?"
"You're a curious type, aren't you?" he said, grinning.
"Well, everyone calls me Jamo."
I stared at him, waiting.
"I won't hurt you," he said softly. "I promise."
**MY ROOM**
The room was tiny—SO tiny it could only fit one bunk bed and nothing else.
Barely half the size of my bathroom back at the palace.
"No thanks," I said, trying to walk out.
But he blocked the door and whispered in my ear:
"You could stay in my room instead."
"Wha—what?" I stuttered.
Share a room with a gang member?
Yeah right.
Then I finally asked the questions burning inside me:
"Why am I here? Why did you kidnap me? Why are you being nice?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he handed me a handmade map—obviously drawn by him.
It led to his room.
Labeled boldly:
**'Jamo's Dungeon'**
"Yeah… there's no way I'm ever stepping into a dungeon," I whispered as I backed into my tiny hole—I mean, room.
Then he left.
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