Lena’s POV
“You have got to be kidding me.”
I stared at my phone, the screen flashing Unknown Caller, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
I didn’t want to answer.
I shouldn’t answer.
But my fingers moved before I could stop them, and suddenly, I was pressing the phone to my ear.
“Lena, we need to talk. Now.”
His voice was low, smooth—like he already knew I wasn’t going to say no.
I could’ve hung up. Could’ve thrown the damn phone into traffic and disappeared again.
But I didn’t.
Because deep down, I knew the truth.
I had no choice.
The hotel was too expensive. Too sleek, too modern—too much for someone like me.
I felt the weight of my old sneakers against the pristine marble floors as I stepped into the elevator, watching the numbers climb higher and higher.
I should’ve turned around.
I should’ve run.
Instead, I walked straight into the devil’s den.
The suite was ridiculous. Gold accents, glass walls, a skyline view that stretched for miles. Everything about it screamed power.
And in the middle of it all, leaning against the bar, was Ezekiel Donahue.
He didn’t look surprised to see me.
Didn’t even look up right away.
He swirled the drink in his glass, slow and methodical, his posture relaxed, but I wasn’t fooled.
The tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes tracked every movement I made—Zeke wasn’t relaxed.
He was hunting.
“You came,” he said finally, taking a slow sip of his drink.
I crossed my arms, ignoring the way my pulse jumped at the way his eyes raked over me, assessing.
“You didn’t leave me much of a choice.”
Zeke smirked, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. “Good. You’re finally starting to understand how this works.”
I scoffed, glancing around the suite. “What exactly do you want, Zeke? Because I know damn well this isn’t a social call.”
His smirk faded. “You’re in danger.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking my head. “You think I don’t know that?”
His gaze sharpened, like he was trying to read between the lines of my words. “I think you know more than you’re saying.”
My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. “If you dragged me here just to tell me something I already know, I’ll save us both some time—I’m leaving.”
I turned toward the door, but his voice stopped me cold.
“Then let me help you.”
I froze.
Slowly, I turned back, finding him watching me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
I shook my head. “I don’t need saving.”
Zeke took a step closer, his presence swallowing up the space between us.
“No,” he said quietly. “But you do need me.”
My breath caught, because the way he said it—it wasn’t arrogance.
It was certainty.
Like he knew, no matter how badly I wanted to deny it, that he was right.
I clenched my fists. “And why would you want to help me, Zeke? You barely know me.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Five years ago, you saved my life.”
“And now you think you owe me?”
His lips twitched, but there was no humour in his expression. “No. I don’t like leaving debts unpaid.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.
Because for Zeke, this wasn’t just a favour.
It was a transaction. A deal with the devil. And I had no idea what it was going to cost me.
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his gaze burned into me.
“And what exactly do you want in return?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
Zeke stepped even closer, so close I could see the way his pulse thrummed at his throat, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he was holding himself back from touching me.
“Who are you really running from, Lena?”