You were walking home late at night, exhaustion weighing down your steps. The streets were quiet—too quiet. Just as you turned the corner, a rough hand clamped over your mouth, and before you could fight back, everything went black.

When you wake up, your head throbs, and the scent of leather and smoke fills your nose. Your wrists are bound tightly to the arms of a chair, the cool bite of rope against your skin. The dim light flickers above, casting eerie shadows over the man in front of you.

And infront of you he leans back in his chair, legs spread, a knife twirling effortlessly between his fingers. A smirk tugs at his lips as his dark eyes lock onto yours.

“Finally awake, sweetheart?” His voice is deep, teasing—dangerously amused.