Kapittel 2: No Way Out

Liora's head throbbed like a drum as she slowly stirred awake. The world around her felt distant, muffled, as though she were submerged under water. Her eyelids fluttered open, and the dim light in the room made everything appear distant, like a dream she couldn't quite shake. The air was cool, a strange stillness hanging in the space. The walls seemed to close in around her, and she immediately felt the weight of something heavy around her ankles.

Her heart skipped a beat. She blinked a few times, trying to focus. The room was mostly dark, save for the faint light streaming through a high, barred window above her. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of her pulse and her own ragged breathing.

Liora shifted, her body protesting the movement. The bed beneath her was large and surprisingly comfortable, an unsettling contrast to the cold metal chains that now confined her. The shackles locked tightly around her ankles, their weight pulling her legs down as if to remind her of the hopelessness of her situation.

A surge of panic flooded her chest, her breathing shallow as she jerked upright, glancing wildly around the room. She instinctively reached down, her hands brushing over the cold, unforgiving metal. Thick chains snaked from the shackles, fastened to the bed frame with a determination that mocked her every attempt to escape. She pulled at them, testing their strength, but the chains barely shifted.

Her mind raced, and her throat tightened with a mixture of fear and confusion. She couldn't remember how she got here, or why.

Then, the sound of a door unlocking sliced through the silence. Her head whipped toward the sound, eyes widening. A figure stepped inside—a man, dressed entirely in black, his face obscured by shadows. He walked towards her with purpose, carrying a tray of food. His expression was unreadable, his movements calm, controlled. He set the tray down on a small, cluttered table beside the bed, never once meeting her gaze.

"Eat," he said, his voice low and emotionless.

Liora's lips parted, but her words were hoarse, cracked from dehydration. "Where am I? Why am I here?" She tried to sit up straighter, her muscles aching from the awkward position, but her eyes never left the man.

He remained silent, his expression unchanged. Instead, he gestured to the tray, almost dismissive. "Eat. You need your strength."

Her fists clenched, frustration bubbling up from deep within her. "I'm not eating until you tell me what the hell is going on." Her voice, though rough, carried an edge of defiance.

The man exhaled slowly, as though her refusal had barely registered. "You will eat," he said, the words carrying an unnerving calmness. "If you don't, someone else will come and make sure you do."

Liora swallowed, the bitterness of helplessness rising in her throat. She knew she had no choice. She looked at the tray, noticing the warm, golden pita bread, the creamy hummus, and the olives—simple food, but her body screamed for sustenance. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and broke off a piece of bread. She chewed slowly, barely tasting it, her mind spiraling in a thousand directions as the man stood there, silent, watching her every move.

She could feel his gaze on her like a weight, but she refused to look up, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her panic. She had to think. She had to get out.

Once she had eaten just enough to satisfy him, the man gave a curt nod. "Good. I'll be back later," he said, turning toward the door.

"Wait," Liora called out, her voice sharper now. "At least tell me who—"

The door slammed shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing through the room. The harsh finality of it sent a shiver down her spine.

She sat still for a moment, her thoughts racing, trying to make sense of her situation. What the hell was going on? Who were these people, and what did they want with her? But there was no time to dwell on that. She needed to get free.

She shifted her attention to the shackles. Her fingers brushed over the cool metal, feeling for any weakness. And then she found it—the lock. It wasn't as secure as she'd initially thought. There was a way to work it, a way to release herself if she could just—

Her heart pounded in her chest as she worked on the lock, twisting it carefully, her hands slick with sweat. Minutes stretched into an eternity. Finally, with a soft click, the shackle released.

Her breath caught in her throat as she quickly worked to free the other ankle. When she stood up, her legs felt like jelly, sore and stiff, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins kept her upright. She was free. For now.

Liora moved with caution, her bare feet silent against the cold stone floor as she approached the door. Locked. Of course. But there had to be another way out.

Her gaze flickered to the high window across the room. It was a long shot, but it was her only option. She spotted a sturdy wooden chair and dragged it across the floor, its legs scraping against the stone. Climbing up, she peered out the window. The view was dizzying. The ground below was a far drop, and the darkness outside offered little comfort.

But then she saw it. A thick, tangled mass of vines clinging to the side of the building, stretching down toward the ground. They seemed sturdy enough. She could do this.

Taking a deep breath, she swung her leg out of the window, gripping the vines as she lowered herself down. The air was sharp against her skin, and her heart pounded in her chest, but there was no turning back now. Each movement was slow and deliberate as she descended, the vines creaking under her weight, straining with every shift.

The ground was closer now. Just a little farther.

When her feet finally touched the earth, she exhaled sharply, a mixture of relief and fear washing over her. She was free. Or so she thought.

A distant shout broke through the silence, followed by hurried footsteps. They had noticed.

Liora's heart skipped a beat. She turned, her bare feet slapping against the cold pavement as she sprinted through the shadowed courtyard, her mind focused only on putting distance between herself and her captors.

But then, just as her hope flared, she rounded a corner and came face-to-face with a man standing in the shadows.

He was tall, his presence commanding, and his body seemed sculpted by years of discipline and training. His clothes were dark, a black dress shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing a hint of the toned chest beneath. His expression was unreadable, but his lips quirked upward, just slightly. An amused smirk.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, his voice smooth, dripping with mockery.

Liora froze, her heart hammering in her chest. She had no time for games. "You have to help me! Someone kidnapped me! I don't know where I am, but I need to get out of here."

The man's head tilted slightly, as though assessing her, before he let out a quiet chuckle.

Liora's stomach churned with confusion and fear. "Why are you laughing?"

Before he could respond, another voice sliced through the night air.

"Is this the girl?"

Liora's blood ran cold. The man stepped aside, revealing another figure. This one was even taller, broader, and his very posture radiated authority.

Lucian, the first man, didn't break his gaze from Liora as he answered, "Yes. This is her."

A wave of ice rushed through her veins. Something was very wrong.

Liora's instincts screamed for her to run, but before she could move, Lucian's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with an iron grip.

"Tsk, tsk, little rabbit," he murmured, his voice like silk, but laced with something far darker. "You really thought you could run from me?"

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing as she tried to wrench free. "What... what do you mean?"

Lucian's smirk deepened. He leaned in close, his voice a whisper in her ear, his lips brushing against her skin. "You never stood a chance."

Before Liora could react, the man behind Lucian gave a sharp motion, and in an instant, strong hands grabbed her from behind. She fought, kicking, screaming, but it was useless.

Lucian stood there, watching, his eyes cold and unflinching, the smirk never fading.

"Take her back," he ordered, his voice firm. "Make sure she dosen't step out of her bedroom."

Liora screamed, her freedom slipping through her fingers like sand. The last thing she saw was Lucian's face, bathed in moonlight, his icy blue eyes locked on hers—unshaken, unapologetic.

Liora raged against the darkness, but the struggles were in vain. Her body was exhausted, and it was clear to her that there was no escape. Her hands were locked in an iron grip, strong and unyielding, and she barely had the strength left to protest. They dragged her through corridors, her feet bloodied from running barefoot, and soon they led her into a room that was icy cold and completely stripped of warmth.

Lucian's office was more of a prison than a workspace, dark and furnished with heavy wooden furniture, a stark contrast to the eerie cleanliness around her. The moment they threw her into the chair in front of the large, polished desk, she knew exactly who was sitting behind it—the ice-blue-eyed man from the plane.

He sat there, completely calm, his gaze cold and superior, almost disinterested. He took a slow drag from a cigarette, the grey smoke swirling around his head like a ghost. The harsh sound of the window slamming shut behind her made Liora stifle a deep sigh.

"I suppose you have some questions," Lucian finally said, his voice cold and unyielding.

Liora lifted her head, her mind boiling with frustration. "Why am I here? What do you want from me?" Her words were sharp, but there was a gnawing fear in her stomach she couldn't shake.

Lucian studied her in silence, then put out the cigarette and leaned forward, his arms crossed on the desk. "It's simple. You're here because you don't need to think about anything other than following orders. Listen, don't cause trouble, and everything will go smoothly."

Liora's heart sank at his words. "What?" she demanded, disbelief creeping into her voice.

Lucian's lips curled into a smile, but it was not a kind smile. It was a smile full of secrets she would never understand. "You're here because I need you to understand your place. We'll be married in a few days. Until then, get used to staying here."

Panic surged through her body, her thoughts racing. "Married? You think I'm just going to go along with this? Are you some kind of... psycho?"

Lucian stood and walked toward the window, his back to her as he stared out into the darkness. "Don't get sassy with me, bunny. You won't like the consequences."

Liora didn't know what to believe. All she knew was that she was trapped, and the man before her was a danger she couldn't comprehend. He was a mystery, a force she couldn't predict. "So... what happens now?" she asked, her voice laced with anger and confusion.

Liora's frustration boiled over, and she shook her head. "You can't keep me here forever. I'm going to escape, and people are going to ask questions. My family is going to search for me."

Lucian's smile grew faint, but there was no warmth in it. "That has been taken care of," he said, his presence looming over her.

Without another word, he turned and made his way back to his desk, sitting down.

Liora sat back in the chair, her body tense, her mind spinning with fear and confusion. She had no idea what was happening or how she could escape, but one thing was clear: she wasn't going down without a fight. Lucian may think he had her cornered, but she wasn't about to make it easy for him.

A guard knocked at the door and entered, taking hold of Liora to escort her back to her room.

Lucian watched the scene unfold with an unreadable expression, then sat back at his desk, picking up a glass and taking a slow drink. He flicked a button on his desk, and the video feed from the surveillance cameras flashed to life on the screen. His eyes narrowed as he watched Liora's earlier escape attempt, her determination clear in the way she moved. He sighed, setting the glass down, his gaze hardening as he thought.

There was a knock at the door, and it creaked open. Another figure stepped in—a man who looked like he belonged in this world of shadows and power.

Antonio walked toward Lucian and stood behind him, watching the video feed in silence for a moment. He raised an eyebrow as the footage showed Liora trying to escape, her legs bound with a broken lock.

"Lucian," Antonio finally spoke, his voice low but questioning. "Why did you bind her legs with a broken lock? And why let her try to escape?"

Lucian didn't look away from the screen, his expression calm but unwavering. "I wanted her to believe she could get away. She's got spirit, and that's something I need to break down. It's not about the lock or her escaping—it's about getting her to understand she doesn't have control here."

Antonio leaned in slightly, watching the footage intently. "But she did get away, at least for a moment. You could've stopped her. Why let it happen?"

Lucian's gaze hardened as he turned to face Antonio. "It's important that she understands the consequences. Letting her feel like she can win only makes the moment she realizes she can't even more effective."

Antonio studied him for a moment before nodding. "If you say so. But you're playing a dangerous game with her."

Lucian's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "She's stronger than you think. And that's why I need her to understand what happens when she tests her limits."

He turned his head and watched another footage, live from Liora's bedroom. She was trying to get the window open but wasn't able to anymore. Giving up, she went to the bed to cry until she fell asleep.