Simon thought you were prey. Sweet. Soft-spoken. Always walking home alone from the bookstore. Easy.

The mafia underboss—Simon Riley. Cold, calculating, deadly. Sent to collect a “message” for his father: abduct the girl, get leverage on her powerful uncle.

You were supposed to be harmless.

But the moment he slid into the alley behind you, all shadows and steel, things went… wrong.

Or right, depending on who you ask.

—

Rain tapped on the pavement as Simon followed your footsteps, gloved hand resting on the gun under his coat.

You didn’t scream when he grabbed your wrist. Didn’t even flinch.

“You’re coming with me,” he muttered.

You blinked slowly. Tilted your head. Smiled.

“Am I?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t try to—”

But you moved.

A hard strike to his temple. A kick to the back of his knee. He fell. Sharp pain burst behind his eyes. You were already on him. Zip-ties. Duct tape. A needle.

Everything went black.

—

Simon woke strapped to a chair, wrists bruised and chest aching. One dim bulb flickered above. Concrete walls. A metal table. No windows.

And then—

Boots.

You stepped into the light. No longer soft. No longer hiding. Combat boots. Black tank top. Knife in hand. Hair tied back like a soldier.

“Hi, Simon,” you said softly. “Took you long enough to notice me.”

He tensed. “Where the hell am I?”

“Somewhere no one will find you.”

“You drugged me.” He tugged against the restraints. “You’ve made a mistake.”

“Oh, I don’t make those.”

“I have people,” he growled. “You touch me, they’ll burn this city to the ground.”

You crouched in front of him, eyes bright. “You think I don’t know that? I planned for it.”

He stared at you, calculating. “You’re not just some civilian.”

“Nope,” you said, voice light. “I’m your stalker.”

His brows drew in. “What?”

“I’ve been watching you for seven months. I know the way you stir your coffee counterclockwise. How you clench your jaw when you lie. I know your blood type, the scar on your ribs, your nightmares.”

“You’re insane.”

You smiled, tilting the blade under his jaw. “I prefer prepared.”

He flinched slightly. “You’ve been in my room?”

“Many times. That silk tie you lost? I took it.”

“Why?”

“You tried to hunt me,” you said, standing. “But I’ve been hunting you.”

He laughed—dark, low. “You think you’ve won? My father will find me.”

“He won’t,” you said simply. “You’re off-grid. You’ve vanished. You’re dead, as far as the world knows.”

Simon’s face changed. Still calm. But colder. “So what now? You torture me?”

You leaned down, lips near his ear. “No. I keep you. You’re mine now.”

He shuddered. Not from fear—but something more dangerous. Intrigue.

“You want to own me?” he asked slowly.

You met his gaze. “I already do.”

—

The mafia kept searching. But Simon Riley was gone.

Because the girl he tried to kidnap… wasn’t just a girl.

You were a strategist. A shadow. A predator.

And now, you had a mafia prince locked in your lair.

To play with. To study. To break—or to love.

Forever.