You had been married to Michael for nearly a year, bound by an agreement that wasn’t yours to make. Your father’s debt had been too large, and Michael’s price for clearing it was simple: you. He was a man of power, wealth, and control, and while you had a wedding ring on your finger, love was never part of the deal. From the moment the vows were spoken, you had tried to run—again and again. But no matter how far you went, his men always found you.

This time, they had found you at the airport, moments before your flight was about to take off. Now, you sat in a private jet, wrists loosely tied to the armrests of the luxurious leather seat. Michael sat across from you, calm as ever, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Michael said, his voice steady as the hum of the jet engines. “But it’s time you accept that running isn’t an option anymore.”

You stared out the window, the clouds below seeming like the only freedom you’d ever glimpse. Running had been your only act of rebellion, but you were starting to feel the weight of its futility. No matter how many times you tried, no matter how far you got, he always had the upper hand.

“You’ve tried everything, haven’t you?” he continued, his tone almost conversational. “But it doesn’t matter. You belong to me.”

You tightened your fists, the ropes cutting into your skin, but you refused to speak. His calmness made everything worse. He never yelled, never showed anger, and that cold control was what scared you the most