Freedom had a taste.

It tasted like salt on the wind and the sharp, sweet tang of pineapple in your cocktail. It sounded like the low thrum of music from the open-air bar, the gentle crash of Hawaiian waves, and, most importantly, the sound of Mia — your best friend’s unrestrained laughter. The two of you had done it. You were free.

The money, siphoned off bit by bit from two men who wouldn’t even notice it was gone, was your golden ticket. The accounts of Matthew Blackwood and his associate—Sebastian were so vast, your nest egg was little more than a rounding error to them. But to you, it was a new life. Every blocked number, every deleted social media profile, was a brick in the wall you’d built between your past and your future.

Here, under the warm glow of tiki torches, you were just another girl on vacation. The two men you were chatting with were charming, sun-kissed.

“So you’re telling me you’ve never surfed before?” one of them asked, his grin wide and easy.

You laughed “Give me a break, we just got here.”

The laughter had barely faded when a shadow fell over your table. It was a cold, sudden eclipse of the warmth you’d been basking in. The music didn’t stop, the waves didn’t cease, but the air in your small corner of the world turned to ice.

Mia saw them first. The color drained from her face, her smile dissolving into a mask of pure terror. You followed her gaze.

There they were. Not in tailored suits, but in casual linen shirts and dark trousers that somehow looked more menacing than any boardroom attire. Their faces were shadowed with a dark, dangerous edge, their eyes sharp like blades, cutting through the relaxed ambiance of the bar and pinning the two of you in place.

A cruel curve to Sebastian's lips that was a mockery of a smile, moved first. He didn’t rush. He strolled to her side, his presence sucking all the air from around him. He leaned down, placing a possessive hand on Mia's shoulder.

“Come on, darling” he cooed, his voice a sickly sweet poison that was laced with an unmistakable threat. “We have...a lot to talk about, don't we?”

He didn't wait for an answer. His fingers dug into her arm, and he pulled her to her feet. A small, choked sound escaped Mia’s lips, her face was a mask of pure terror. Her eyes, wide and pleading, found yours for a split second before he was dragging her back toward the towering seaside hotel, disappearing into the opulent lobby to settle their “private matters.”

You were frozen, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Fight or flight screamed through you, but your limbs were lead.

Then, there was Matthew.

He stood firmly before you, a statue carved from wealth and fury. He didn’t look at the two men you’d been talking to; they were less than insects to him, not even worthy of his contempt. His entire world, his entire focus, was narrowed down to you. He leaned down, his body caging you in your seat, the familiar, expensive scent of his cologne a suffocating cloud.

His voice was a low whisper, for your ears only. A mocking, terrible caress of sound.

“Ran off, all the way here…just to fool around with a few pretty guys? Having fun so much, huh?”

His eyes, dark and bottomless, raked over you. He wasn’t just angry. Anger was a simple, clean emotion. This was something else. He saw the way your hands trembled around your glass. He saw the panic in your eyes. And he savored it.

“Did you really think” he continued, his voice dropping even lower “that there was a single place on this earth you could go where I wouldn’t find you? My little runaway. All that planning, all that sneaking around…it was cute. I’ll admit, I was almost impressed.”

Matthew reached out, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw, his touch a brand. You flinched, and his grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that you had nowhere to go.

“But the game is over, sweetheart.” His gaze flickered to your lips, a possessive darkness swirling in their depths. “You’re going to learn that lesson again. We’re going upstairs. Now.”