His Captive: Against my will

The bass from the speakers thumped gently through the walls of the private room, mixing with bursts of laughter and the clinking of cola bottles. Fairy lights hung carelessly around the ceiling, glowing warm against the dark wood panels. She stood in the middle of it all—cheeks flushed, hair a little messy from dancing with her friends, still holding a paper plate of half-eaten cake. Someone sprayed a streamer across the room and everyone yelled, "Happy birthday!" for the fifth time that evening.

She threw her head back laughing, brushing the glitter from her forehead. The reserved room's glass window looked out into the main corridor of the lounge bar, but she didn't notice the eyes fixed on her—cold, evaluating, like someone memorizing a puzzle piece he had been searching for.

A man in a fitted dark coat stood far away, behind the thick glass wall that separated VIP access from the rest of the place. His guards—two tall, silent men—stood slightly behind him, hands folded in front, scanning the crowd. But he wasn't scanning. He was watching her. His gaze didn't shift even when people passed in front of him. The corner of his jaw tightened as if some realization struck him.

Inside the room, her friend tugged her sleeve.

"Come on, let's go! We should return before it gets dark."

She nodded, grabbing her sling bag and waving at the others. They spilled out of the lounge, still giggling, still replaying moments from the small celebration. Outside, the air was cooler. Their cycles stood where they had left them, leaned neatly against the stand.

"Ugh, my legs hurt from dancing," one of her friends groaned.

"That's because you dance like an old lady," she teased, unlocking her cycle.

"Excuse me? I dance like a queen."

They all burst into laughter again, starting to pedal away from the lounge street, the faint smell of food and music fading behind them. Their chatter drifted along the quiet lanes.

"You saw that guy with the weird mustache?"

"Which one?"

"The one who kept dropping his drink?"

"Oh my god—yeah! I thought he'd faint!"

Their cycles rolled easily over the smooth road, the sun slowly sinking, washing the sky with shades of soft pink and fading gold.

Soon they reached the main junction. One friend raised her hand, pointing left.

"I'm going this way! Text me when you reach."

"Yeah, me too." Another turned right.

She smiled and waved. "Okay, bye! Get home safely!"

"Bye!"

"Bye-eee!"

The voices faded. She continued straight, now alone, the road unusually peaceful. Trees lined both sides, their shadows stretching long under the orange sky. Her Orange hair fluttered behind her with the cool breeze. Birds were returning to their nests, the world softening into dusk.

The moment felt comforting—quiet, calm. She pedaled slowly, enjoying the air brushing her cheeks, the leaves rustling, the warm glow on the horizon.

Then—

A car shot out from the narrow turn ahead and screeched to a stop right in front of her.

Her brakes squealed. She jerked backward on instinct, stopping her cycle barely a heartbeat before colliding with the black SUV.

"What the—?"

The driver's door opened first. A tall man stepped out. Another from the passenger side. And another from the back.

Her pulse spiked.

She turned her cycle slightly, ready to pedal away quickly—

Bang!

The sound cracked through the road. Her cycle jolted violently—her rear tire exploded, wobbling under her. She gasped, losing balance for a second before jumping off and abandoning it entirely.

She ran.

Her footsteps slapped the pavement, lungs tightening, heart slamming against her ribs. She didn't look back—she didn't need to. Heavy footsteps followed, rapid, closing in fast.

"Let me go!" she cried, stumbling over the uneven edge of the road.

A hand grabbed her arm. Another clamped over her mouth. Her scream suffocated halfway out.

A thick black mask—rough cloth, chemical smell—was pulled over her face, plunging her into darkness.

Her breath hitched, muffled.

They lifted her off the ground like she weighed nothing, her legs kicking wildly. Someone opened the back door of the car. She was shoved inside, her shoulder hitting the seat.

The door slammed.

Outside, her cycle lay abandoned in the middle of the road—tire shredded, handle slightly twisted, still spinning faintly as the engine roared and the car sped away with her.

_____________

Darkness wrapped around me like a heavy blanket when I finally began to wake. Something cold trickled nearby—water dripping, echoing. My hands twitched, but they wouldn't move. The second I tried lifting my head, something tugged sharply at my wrists.

My eyes snapped open.

A cold rush shot through my chest.

My arms were tied behind me, rope digging into my skin. My ankles were bound to the chair legs, the rough wood pressing into my calves. A weak bulb flickered overhead, casting shadows across stone walls. The whole place felt damp, ancient… wrong.

My throat tightened.

"Wh–Where am I…?"

A soft click sounded—like a lock turning.

My breath caught as I turned my head.

The far door creaked open. Light flashed for a second before someone stepped inside and shut it again. Footsteps followed—slow, unhurried. Like he wasn't approaching a terrified girl tied to a chair, but something he already owned.

When he stepped close enough for me to see his face, my heart lurched violently.

Chestnut hair.

Brown eyes that should've looked warm but didn't.

A face almost too beautiful—too perfect—to belong in a place like this.

My blood went cold.

He stopped in front of me, hands sliding into his coat pockets, tilting his head slightly as he studied me like I was some rare object he'd acquired.

"What's your name?"

It was a very stern voice.

"M-misty Bonnet"

I swallowed hard.

"Why… why am I here?"

His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes.

"Because," he said softly, "I want you here."

My breath shook.

"That doesn't… that doesn't make sense. Why? What did I do?"

He crouched down until his face was at eye level with mine. I felt the warmth of his breath against my cheek, too close, too calm. My chest squeezed painfully.

"I don't owe you an answer," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear—too gently for someone who'd kidnapped me. "You'll learn when I decide."

Fear crawled down my spine.

He rose slowly, his shadow stretching over me.

"But if you behave," he said, his voice smooth and patient, "if you're a good girl… I'll move you out of this dungeon. To my house. Where you'll stay."

My lips trembled.

"I—I'll be good. Please… I'll listen."

"Good," he whispered, almost like a praise. "That's what I wanted to hear."

He ordered his men to untie me,they complied.

He continued to watch me, studying every twitch in my face, every breath while his.

Then he smiled faintly.

"To see if you truly mean it…" he turned toward the door, "I'll leave you alone."

"No—please—"

"You'll stay," he said without looking back, "and I'll learn how loyal you really are."

The door clicked shut.

And the moment his footsteps faded…

my whole body began to shake.