It was raining the kind of rain that soaked through skin and thoughts alike, the kind that made the city feel smaller and lonelier than it was. Elena Moretti stood at the edge of the pavement, clutching her book to her chest as if it could protect her from the night. She had stayed late at the library again. Law textbooks had a way of swallowing time, and by the time she stepped outside, the streets had thinned, lights reflecting off wet asphalt like broken stars.
She didn't notice him at first.
No one ever noticed Adrian Volkov until it was too late.
He stood across the street, still as the shadows behind him, his black coat unmoving despite the wind. Cars passed, people walked by, but the world seemed to curve slightly around him, as if it knew better than to intrude. His gaze fixed on her with an intensity that had nothing to do with curiosity. It was recognition. Possession. Something old and dangerous stirred in his chest, something he had buried under years of blood and power.
He had seen many women. None of them had made his pulse slow instead of race.
Elena felt it before she understood it—the weight of being watched. Her steps faltered. A chill crawled up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold rain. She turned her head, searching, and then her eyes met his.
The world seemed to tilt.
There was no smile on his face, no obvious threat. Just a man with sharp features, dark eyes, and a calm that felt unnatural. The kind of calm predators had. Her breath caught painfully in her throat. Every instinct she owned screamed at her to move, to put distance between herself and whatever he was.
She did.
Her pace quickened, shoes splashing through shallow puddles as she told herself she was being foolish. Cities were full of strangers. Staring didn't mean danger. And yet, with every step, her chest grew tighter. She didn't look back—but she didn't need to. She could feel him watching, could feel that gaze follow her like a hand pressed flat against her back.
Adrian finally moved.
Not hurried. Never hurried.
He stepped off the curb, the quiet authority of his presence parting space effortlessly. One of his men leaned closer, murmuring something low and cautious. Adrian didn't respond. His attention was locked elsewhere.
"She's not a coincidence," he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. "She's a message."
The black car rolled forward smoothly, matching Elena's pace. The sound of tires on wet road made her heart stutter. She stopped walking. The car stopped too. For a brief, terrifying moment, the city seemed to hold its breath.
The door opened.
Before she could scream, strong arms wrapped around her, lifting her clean off the ground. Her book slipped from her grasp and hit the pavement with a dull thud.
"Let me go!" she cried, panic ripping through her voice.
A hand covered her mouth, firm but not rough.
"Easy," a deep voice murmured close to her ear. "I won't hurt you."
The calmness of it shattered her more than violence would have.
She was inside the car in seconds, the door closing with a final, heavy sound. Darkness surrounded her, broken only by the faint city lights slipping past the tinted windows. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she pressed herself into the seat, eyes wide and wet.
Then she saw him.
Adrian sat across from her, unbothered, composed, as if he hadn't just torn her life apart. He studied her openly—her fear, her clenched fists, the way her chest rose and fell too fast. Not with lust. With focus. With ownership.
"You should be careful," he said calmly, as if offering advice. "The world likes to steal beautiful things."
Tears blurred her vision. "I want to go home."
Something dark and unreadable flickered through his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
"You are home."
Her head shook instinctively, denial bursting out of her. "This is kidnapping. You can't do this."
A slow smile curved his lips—not kind, not cruel. Certain.
"No," he corrected quietly. "This is destiny."
The car slowed, then stopped. Through the window she saw iron gates part, revealing a vast estate swallowed by darkness and guarded by men who looked like they'd never failed him. Her stomach dropped as reality settled in, heavy and suffocating.
No one knew where she was.
No one was coming.
Adrian reached out, lifting her chin with two fingers, forcing her tear-filled eyes to meet his.
"You can hate me," he said, his voice low, almost intimate. "You can fight me."
Then, softer still, like a promise carved into stone:
"But you will never leave me."