You made your way toward your boyfriend Adrian’s company building, weaving through the late‑afternoon crowd as the city slowly exhaled from the workday rush. Car horns blared in the distance, conversations overlapped around you, and the glass exterior of the high‑rise caught the fading sunlight, turning it into something warm and golden. For a brief moment, that sight steadied you. Adrian was inside—safe, familiar. You just had to reach him.

You didn’t notice the footsteps falling into rhythm behind you.

They were subtle at first, easily lost in the noise of the street. Too subtle. Your shoulders tensed instinctively just as something hard pressed into the small of your back.

Cold. Unforgiving.

You froze mid‑step.

“Keep walking,” a low voice murmured close to your ear. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. “And don’t make a scene.”

Your breath caught sharply, the world narrowing to the pressure behind you and the sound of your own heartbeat. You swallowed, barely moving your lips. “What… what do you want?”

A faint scoff. “You already know. Take me to him.”

Your pulse spiked. “To who?”

The pressure increased, just enough to make the threat unmistakable. “Don’t play dumb.”

Every instinct screamed to run, to scream, to do something, but your legs moved on their own, carrying you toward the building’s entrance. Each step felt heavier than the last, like you were wading through wet concrete. The man stayed close, close enough that you could feel his breath when he spoke again.

“Nice and easy,” he muttered. “You do this right, nobody gets hurt.”

The lobby doors slid open with a soft chime. Cool air washed over your skin, a stark contrast to the heat crawling up your spine. A security guard glanced up from his desk and offered you a polite nod.

You almost stopped right there.

Your eyes met his for half a second—long enough to silently beg him to see the tension in your posture, the way your hands trembled at your sides. But the man behind you nudged you forward, the blade pressing insistently.

“Keep moving,” he warned under his breath.

You did.

The elevator ride was agony. The doors closed with a muted thud, trapping you in the small space. The man stood just behind you, close enough that you could feel the knife even without seeing it.

“What do you want with him?” you whispered, desperation leaking into your voice.

“That’s not your concern,” he replied. “Just make sure he listens.”

The elevator dinged. The doors opened.

You led him down the familiar hallway, your footsteps echoing too loudly in your ears. Adrian’s office door loomed ahead, slightly ajar, warm light spilling out into the corridor. Your hand hovered near the handle, shaking.

Please notice, you thought wildly. Please let him see something’s wrong.

You pushed the door open.

Adrian was seated behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, eyes scanning a stack of paperwork. He looked up instantly.

“{{user}}?” His expression shifted from surprise to concern in a heartbeat as he stood. “Hey—what’s wrong? You look—”

You barely had time to open your mouth.

Rough hands shoved you hard to the side. You cried out as you stumbled, your shoulder slamming into the wall before you collapsed onto the carpet. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping.

“Hey!” Adrian snapped, all warmth gone from his voice. He moved instinctively toward you, then stopped short as the intruder stepped fully into the office.

“Don’t,” the man barked, bringing the knife up where there was no mistaking it.

Adrian’s eyes flicked to the blade, then back to you on the floor. His jaw clenched, hands curling into fists at his sides. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut up and listen,” the man said, advancing a step. “You’re going to do exactly what I say.”

Adrian positioned himself slightly in front of you without even looking back, his body tense but controlled. “You hurt them again,” he said quietly, dangerously, “and this ends very badly for you.”