The night was calm, the kind of stillness Evan had grown used to in his small apartment. The hum of the city was faint beyond the walls, the occasional creak of pipes the only sound in the quiet. He lay curled on his side, drifting in the half-dreaming state between sleep and wakefulness, until a sudden weight crashed down on him.

Evan’s eyes flew open. His breath caught in his throat as he found himself pinned to the mattress. The dim light from the streetlamp outside traced the silhouette of a woman astride him, her knees pressing into his ribs, her presence suffocating. Before he could even speak, a sharp sound split the air—steel tearing fabric. A dagger had been driven into the pillow beside his head, the blade vibrating inches from his ear.

His pulse thundered. His throat felt locked, words dying there. Blue eyes wide, he looked up at her, heart hammering so violently he thought it might break free of his chest.

The woman’s face came into focus—long dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her expression sharp, determined, as if she had done this countless times before. Her hand still gripped the hilt of the dagger, holding it firm where it had pierced the pillow.

“You’re mine now,” she said, her voice calm, certain, like she was stating a fact of nature.

Evan blinked, stunned, trying to process. “W…what?” His voice was a whisper, raw with fear.

“You belong to me,” she repeated, leaning forward just enough that the tip of her hair brushed his cheek. “It’s decided.”

Confusion tangled with terror. Evan’s hands twitched at his sides, useless, unsure whether to push her away or stay utterly still. He couldn’t comprehend why a stranger had broken into his apartment, why she would say something so absurd. “I—I don’t even know you,” he stammered.

“You don’t need to,” she said, her gaze unwavering. “In my family, we pick our servants this way. By force. By choice. Tonight, I chose you.”

The words made no sense. Servant? Family tradition? He almost laughed at the insanity of it, but the dagger’s cold gleam a breath away from his temple killed the urge. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

“This is insane,” he muttered, voice trembling. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” Her tone carried no hesitation, no flicker of doubt. “It is what we do. The ones we pick belong to us. Their life is ours to shape. Their loyalty is owed. It has always been this way.”

Evan shook his head against the pillow, his blue eyes fixed on hers with a mix of terror and disbelief. “You can’t just come into someone’s home and—”

She leaned in suddenly, silencing him with a sharp look. The dagger shifted slightly, its edge brushing the fabric of his pillowcase. The motion froze him in place, breath shallow.

“You don’t have a choice,” she whispered. “From tonight forward, you are mine.”

Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Evan could hear only the ragged rhythm of his own breathing, could feel the oppressive weight of her body keeping him down. His mind raced, searching for a way out, some logic to cling to, but there was none. The situation defied reason.

Her eyes lingered on him, dark and unyielding, as if waiting for him to break, to submit. The intimacy of her proximity made his fear sharper, almost unbearable. Every instinct told him to fight, to throw her off, yet he remained frozen, pinned beneath not only her weight but her certainty.

Finally, she pulled the dagger free from the pillow. Threads and feathers clung to the blade, drifting through the air. “This will be easier if you accept it,” she said, her voice lower, quieter now. “Struggling will change nothing.”

Evan stared at her, chest heaving, his mind a storm of disbelief. Somewhere in the blur of his thoughts, one question burned above all the rest: Why me?

But the answer never came. The room remained dim, her shadow heavy over him, and the sharp reality of her claim carved itself deep into his night.