The SUV moved like a predator—smooth, controlled, never in a rush.Alara sat stiff in the back seat, her eyes flicking between the two men in front and the one sitting beside her.
Her hand found the door handle. She pulled. Nothing. Child lock.
She forced her voice to stay steady. "You've made a mistake."
No one answered.
"I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not—"
The man beside her turned his head. His dark eyes met hers. "We know exactly who you are."
The words made her chest tighten. "Then why am I here?"
Silence.
She tried again. "Where are you taking me?"
The driver glanced at her in the mirror but said nothing.
The SUV slowed as they entered an underground parking garage. Bright lights reflected off the wet black floor. The sound of the rain faded as they rolled to a stop beside a set of elevator doors.
The man next to her opened the door. "Out."
Alara didn't move.
His voice dropped into something colder. "Now."
Her legs felt heavy, but they carried her out. The air in the garage was warmer, but it didn't make her feel safer.
He walked beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. At the elevator, he swiped a black card and the doors slid open.
Inside, the ride was silent except for the low hum of the motor. Alara kept her eyes on the floor. The walls felt too close, the air too thick.
When the doors opened, she was led into a hallway lined with dark wood and glass. No signs. No windows. Only quiet.
One door at the end stood open.
"Inside," her escort said.
She hesitated.
"Go."
Her feet moved on their own.
The room was huge, lit by soft golden light. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the glittering city below. Rain slid down the glass in long, slow lines.
A man stood with his back to her, hands in his pockets.
Even from behind, she could tell he wasn't ordinary. The way he stood was too confident, too controlled. His black suit was perfectly cut, the fabric catching the light in sharp lines.
"Leave us," he said without turning.
The men who brought her obeyed immediately, the door closing with a soft click.
Alara's pulse kicked harder.
The man finally turned.
His eyes were a cold, unreadable grey. He looked at her the way someone might look at a piece of art—measuring, evaluating.
"If this is about money," she said quickly, "I don't have any."
The corner of his mouth lifted, but it wasn't a smile. "Money is the last thing I need from you."
"Then what do you want?"
He stepped closer, his movements smooth and deliberate. "Do you know where you are?"
"In some… office?"
"This is my building," he said. "Every floor, every person, every brick—it belongs to me."
She swallowed. "And me?"
"You stepped into my territory tonight. People who do that don't usually walk back out."
Her voice caught. "I didn't know—"
"I don't care what you knew."
His calmness was worse than shouting. It made her feel like there was no way out.
"I have somewhere I need to be," she said quickly. "If you just—"
"You're not leaving," he interrupted.
Her stomach dropped. "You can't keep me here."
He leaned in slightly, close enough that she could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw. "I can. And I will."
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
He studied her for another moment, then straightened. "Your name?"
She hesitated. "Alara."
Something in his expression shifted—recognition, and something darker. "Of course it is."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
He didn't answer. His lips curved just enough to unsettle her. "Welcome to the cage, Alara."