The first thing Alex noticed was the pounding in her skull.
Then the taste—metallic and bitter, like a mouthful of rusted pennies. Her tongue was thick, dry. Her lips felt swollen, split at the corner. She tried to move her hands, but her wrists didn’t budge. That’s when she realized she was tied—tight, cruel ropes digging into the flesh of her arms and ankles, the chair beneath her unyielding and sharp-edged.
A weak yellow light buzzed overhead, casting shadows that crawled across cracked cement walls. Dust hung thick in the air. The ceiling groaned every time the wind passed.
Somewhere water dripped.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound drove nails through her headache.
She blinked, trying to clear the haze, and slowly focused on the man lounging against the far wall.
Andrea.
He was spinning a handgun in his palm like a magician with a coin. Not looking at her at first—just whistling something tuneless under his breath. Relaxed. Amused.
Like she was entertainment.
Alex’s pulse kicked hard in her throat, but her face stayed still.
“What the hell is going on?” she snapped, voice hoarse from thirst.
Andrea stopped the gun mid-spin, catching it smoothly.
“Oh good. Sleeping Beauty speaks.” He pushed off the wall, walking toward her with casual steps. “I was starting to worry you’d miss the main act.”
“Untie me,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Mm. See, that’s the thing.” He crouched down in front of her, elbow resting on his knee, the gun dangling loosely in his fingers. “You’ve been digging where you shouldn’t be digging, sweetheart. I gave you chances. Told you to back off. Told you to stay in your lane.”
His smile was slow, humorless.
“But you just couldn’t help yourself.”
She stared at him, her breathing steady even as her pulse rattled. “You kidnapped me.”
“I relocated you,” he said lazily. “Temporary arrangement. You’ll understand soon enough.”
Alex’s gaze flicked down to the gun in his hand.
He caught the movement and grinned wider. “This? Don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill you.”
He leaned closer, his breath warm and smelling faintly of mint and rot. “Not yet.”
Alex didn’t flinch. Wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
Andrea’s eyes narrowed. “You ever wonder how many people I’ve killed?”
The silence between them turned cold.
Alex swallowed. Her jaw ached. “Probably better if I don’t.”
He laughed. The sound echoed through the hollow building, bouncing off walls like gunfire.
“God, I like you. Zade always picks the pretty ones with bite.”
Her stomach twisted.
He rose to his full height, pacing now, the gun still swinging from his hand.
“You’re not stupid. I’ll give you that. But even smart girls get messy when their ego’s involved. You just had to prove something. Daddy’s girl, thinking she could outmaneuver an entire family trained to eat people like you for breakfast.”
She didn’t respond.
Andrea glanced at her over his shoulder. “Here’s the deal. We need a signature. Nothing dramatic—just a little document transferring your shares in Steel Corp to Zade. Clean. Legal. Tidy.”
Alex’s eyes hardened. “No.”
He chuckled again, like she’d told a joke. “Oh, I think you will. Eventually. After all…” He raised the gun and pointed it at her—casually, like he might be testing its weight. “This place? Off the grid. Cameras fried. Doors reinforced. You could scream for hours and no one would hear you.”
Her fingers curled into fists against the rope.
Andrea lowered the gun and tilted his head. “I don’t want to hurt you. That’s not the plan. But people make bad decisions under pressure. I’ve seen it. Seen what desperation does to someone’s voice when they realize help isn’t coming.”
He stepped closer.
“Once you sign, your usefulness ends. That’s just reality.”
Then he smiled and straightened, like they’d just finished a pleasant chat over wine.
“I’ll bring the contract soon.”
Without another word, he turned and walked out. The door groaned as he pulled it shut, then slammed hard, sealing her in.
The silence returned.
Worse than before.
***
For a while, Alex sat still, barely breathing.
The ropes were tight, unforgiving. Every time she shifted, the fibers burned her wrists and ankles. Her shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long. Sweat clung to her neck and spine, despite the chill in the air. She tested the knots gently. Nothing gave.
Her mind started to race.
Not with fear—but with calculation.
Andrea didn’t want her dead. Yet. That meant time. That meant possibility. But she needed to be smart. She couldn’t count on brute strength, couldn’t break the ropes with sheer willpower. She had to stay calm, had to conserve her energy.
Her eyes closed briefly.
And without warning, a memory surged forward.
Not one of kisses or soft moments or fake romance. No.
The night she was ambushed outside the Steel company gates. Journalists shouting. Flashbulbs blinding her. The security team had been late. Her assistant had vanished.
And Zade had stepped out of the shadows.
He hadn’t said a word.
He’d just reached her, calmly, silently, and placed himself between her and the chaos. The cameras, the crowd. His hand pressed gently to her lower back as he guided her behind him. He hadn’t even raised his voice—just one long look from his eyes, and the mob backed off.
Steady. Immovable. Untouchable.
And for one split second—just one—he’d looked back at her.
No smile. No expression.
But a promise.
That he wouldn’t let her fall.
Alex’s throat tightened.
She opened her eyes again, staring up at the swinging light bulb.
Zade wasn’t her hero.
He wasn’t her safety net.
But she didn’t believe he’d let Andrea kill her. Not like this. Not chained to a chair in some godforsaken building. It wasn’t in Zade’s nature to leave things messy. And she wasn’t done yet.
Not by a long shot.
She breathed slowly through her nose.
One.
Two.
Three.
She wouldn’t break.
Let them think she was afraid. Let Andrea think she’d fold.
Because the truth was… she’d never been more certain of her fight.
And she wasn’t done burning the Hales to the ground.