The rain hadn’t stopped for days. It was the kind that blurred vision, silenced footsteps, and cleaned blood from the pavement.

He leaned against the hood of his car, coat dripping, fingers brushing the silver ring on his hand as headlights swept past. He didn’t flinch. He’d been waiting.

At 7:43 p.m., she emerged from the library. Alone. Just like always. A scarf around her neck, books clutched like a shield.

“Consistent,” he murmured to himself, watching her through the black-tinted window. “Naive. Untouched by the filth her bloodline breathes.”

He opened the car door when she passed the alley—silent, fast, calculated. A hand around her waist, a cloth pressed against her lips. No scream. No fight. She was light in his arms.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, “You were simply born into the wrong family.”

The estate was cold, shadowed, and smelled of mahogany and secrets. He laid her gently on the armchair, brushing a damp strand from her cheek. For a moment, he watched her sleep.

“You’re nothing like him,” he muttered, straightening. “And yet… you will bring him to his knees.”

He didn’t chain her. Didn’t lock the door. Power wasn’t in force—it was in knowing she wouldn’t run, not yet. He left the lights dim, the fire low, her favorite book beside the cup of untouched tea.

Later that night, in the adjacent room, he stood before the window, lighting a cigarette with hands that rarely trembled. Outside, the rain struck the glass like bullets.

A phone call buzzed. He answered.

“She’s here. Just like we planned.”

He exhaled smoke slowly.

“Watson will crack. He always does when the press breathes down his neck. But this time, I won’t give him that option.”

He paused, gaze drifting toward the door that separated them.

“I don’t want her harmed. Not a scratch. She’s... not like the others.”

A silence answered. Then a chuckle on the other end.

He didn’t return it.

“Laugh again, and I’ll send you back in pieces.”

The line went dead.

He stayed there, the cigarette burning low, jaw clenched.

Because somewhere in his chest, a war was beginning. Between the mission… and the look on her face when she’d wake and find herself in his world.

“Don’t look at me like that, {{user}}...” he said under his breath, staring at the reflection in the dark window. “I’ve already gone too far to turn back.”