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Chapter 1
Rosalie
Viktor; 25. Rosalie; 17.
I’m exhausted after all the studying. Thank God it’s done, and the only thing left is graduation day.
Dressed in my tight shorts and tank top, I always wear when I plan on taking a nap, I flop down onto my bed and put in my earbuds. I listen to my favorite playlist on repeat while lying on my stomach and looking at the list I made.
A smile plays around my lips. Bali. Portugal. Greece. Italy. Or maybe I should visit Finland, Norway, and Iceland. Then there’s also Japan, Scotland, and Ireland.
Damn, it’s hard to choose.
I’m taking a year off before deciding what to do with the rest of my life, and I plan on traveling to some of my dream destinations. The thought is both exhilarating and scary. I’m finally free from school to do anything I want, but I have no idea what that ‘anything’ entails.
My family is wealthy, so there’s no need for me to work. I could lead the life of a socialite, or I could do some charity work, or I could study further.Ugh.Scratch the last one. I don’t want to think about anything school related for a long while.
With the music blasting in my ears, my thoughts drift off to sandy beaches, all-night parties, and sleeping late.
The Mediterranean sea. Castles. Waterfalls.
It’s going to be ama–
An earbud is plucked from my ear, instantly making me frown. “What the hell?” I glance over my shoulder, and it’s as if my ability to comprehend anything up and vanishes into thin air.
I stare at the man.
The sound of gunfire registers.
Oh, God. There’s a strange man in my bedroom.
In a split second, I take in everything about him.
His dark brown hair. His black as night eyes. The strong jaw that looks like it’s been carved from stone.
He’s tall.Like freaking tall.His body is muscled. Not in a bulky way, but firm with the promise of a six-pack beneath the black long-sleeve that clings to his chest like a second skin.
He’s absurdly hot, giving off a bad boy vibe that would make most of the girls at school drop their panties in a heartbeat.
But there’s nothing hot or dreamy about this situation.
Alarm shudders through me, and right before my senses flood back with panic chasing their heels, it sinks in – his eyes are filled with brutality. His stance is ready for action. He’s holding a gun in his right hand.
Holy. Freaking. Shit.
Too slow, fear trickles into my veins, then, with a hell of a rush, panic hits me so hard, I fall off the bed.
My breaths instantly explode from my lips as I scramble to my feet. My heart pounds violently against my ribcage as if to spur me on to move faster.
I dart in the direction of the door but don’t make it as a strong arm wraps around my middle, and I’m swept into the air. My back slams against his solid chest, and feeling the strength in his body, which easily holds mine imprisoned, rips a terrified scream from me.
Hot air hits my ear, sending shivers racing over every inch of my exposed skin. “Do as I say and you’ll get out of this alive.”
W-w-what?
My lips part as my lungs greedily suck in a harsh breath while my eyes widen.
Survival mode courses through my veins, the random popping of gunfire sounding distant, the heat from his body too much to bear. It feels like he might set me on fire.
