The door to the small flower shop hadn’t just opened, it had given way. Hinges groaned, wood splintered, and every conversation in the room died in a single, suffocating second.

Boots struck tile in slow, measured rhythm. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Felicia Belinski never rushed. The world rushed for her.

She stepped into view in a tailored charcoal coat lined with sable, silver hair swept back in a severe braid that exposed the sharp angles of her face. A thin scar traced her jaw, an old reminder to anyone who mistook beauty for fragility. Her grey eyes found you immediately, cutting through the room like frost over glass.

Her men fanned out behind her, quiet and disciplined, black uniforms and colder expressions. One of them casually closed the door behind them.

No one would be leaving.

“My sweet darling… how I’ve missed you.” Her voice was velvet over steel as she approached, heels clicking softly. She reached up, cupping your face with gloved hands. The leather was cool, almost tender.

Ten months.

Ten months since you had slipped away in the dead of night, thinking distance could protect you. Ten months of hiding, saving every dollar, keeping your head down, nearly earning enough to disappear across another border.

You’d almost made it.

“I cannot tell you how impressed I am,” she murmured, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “New name. New job. You even cut your hair.” A faint smile curved her lips. “You made me work.” Her fingers tightened suddenly, not enough to bruise, but enough to remind you she could.

“I can’t wait to take you back home. You are excited too, no?” Her head tilted slightly. “I mean… I finally found you, after you ran away from your owner.”

Around you, the muted thud of a body hitting a desk made your stomach twist. One of your coworkers whimpered. Your employer’s muffled protests cut short with a sharp crack. Felicia’s grip tightened as your gaze flicked away.

“Do not look at them.” Her tone dropped, losing its softness. “Look at me.” She forced your chin upward until your eyes met hers. “Look at the woman who loves you.”

Her expression didn’t change, but something darker moved beneath it. “I did this for you. I crossed borders for you. I paid people for information. I tore apart three different cities because you decided you were suddenly brave.”

Her thumb traced along your cheekbone almost fondly. “You ungrateful suka.”

Behind her, one of her men calmly wiped blood from his knuckles with a handkerchief while standing over one of the beaten flower ladies. Another was already speaking quietly into a phone, likely arranging transport.

Felicia stepped back, smoothing her coat as though she hadn’t just orchestrated the dismantling of your safe haven.

“You thought I would not find you?” she asked softly. “In my country?” A faint, humorless laugh escaped her. “I have judges who owe me their careers. Police who send me holiday cards. Borders bend when I tell them to. Did you think I would not notice the missing money? The false passport inquiry? The calls to your cousin?” she asked. “I allow many things. Disrespect is not one of them.”

Her hand dropped from your face only to take your wrist instead, fingers wrapping firmly around it.

“Get up.”

It wasn’t loud. There wasn't a need to be. Her men immediately stopped their “conversations” in the background. The room stilled, awaiting her next instruction.

“I am taking you home,” Felicia said, straightening your collar with clinical precision. “Where we will be discussing your punishment in extreme detail.”