A thick neck covered in ink that snakes down his chest and over his shoulders, the type of shoulders built for hard work and heavy lifting.
He leans forward, his body massive. Broad-shouldered, with a quiet intensity radiating from every inch of him.
But it’s the way he watches me that makes my skin crawl and burn at the same time. Like he alreadyownsme. Like the chase is over, and he already knows exactly how this ends.
He has ten minutes, give or take, before I make him regret not kidnapping literallyanyother woman but me.
I should hate him.I do… I do hate him. But somewhere, under the hate, is something worse. Dangerous.
Something that feels like… fascination.
I stare before I ask again, “Who are you?” I pretend it takes all my energy to say this, like I’m more drugged than I am. I have to play into this if I’m going to escape, and Iamgoing to fucking escape.
No one cages Anissa Laurent and lives to tell about it.
He doesn’t answer. Just watches me, taking up space in a worn leather chair, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the armrest—like he has all the time in the world. Like he’s about to crack open a beer and watch a game.
My stomach tightens.
His voice is low, rough, and full of dark amusement. “Finally awake? Makes sense; I guess you were sleep-deprived.”
I glare at him. The weight of his gaze bears down on me. I wait, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t snarl. Doesn’t gloat or threaten.
Just watches. Unmoving. Patient. Like a wolf who’s already sunk its teeth in but enjoys the struggle too much to end it yet.
This hunt is over.
That’s what he thinks.
I force my breathing to steady. Panic is useless. I’ve been here before. I had to wait, bide my time until I could run.
I need information. A plan. My eyes flick to the corner of the room, searching.
He chuckles, low and lazy. I shiver. “Looking for an exit, little witch, so you can cast your spell?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Cute.”
His eyes narrow, even as he lets loose another chuckle that curls around my spine.
“Go to hell,” I snarl.
“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “I already told you.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “That’s where I came from. Do you want me to take you along with me?”
Right. I try to hide the shiver that rolls through me.
I don’t know who he is. I don’t know why I’m here. But I will not break.
I will not let him win. Iwillfind a way out.
I can’t fucking wait. Finally, a chance to do what I do best, but to save my own damn hide.
Little does he know he’s in for the fight of his life.
He tilts his head, watching me as if he can hear my resolve, before he stands.
Ofcoursehe’s tall. Legs like tree trunks. Hands as big as fucking dinner plates. None of that lankiness I’ve seen from other men. A full-grown man where others are boys.
“Let’s get one thing straight, little witch.” His voice is low, soft—almost gentle. “There’s no hiding anymore. No more running. Nowhere else for you to go. No one to save you.”
