Evan packed with shaking hands.
Not because Victor Kane had threatened him—but because he hadn't.
The card lay on the table beside his bed, untouched, like it didn't need his attention to exist. The number burned into his thoughts anyway. Evan folded clothes he barely wore into a backpack that felt too small for whatever was coming.
He didn't know what cooperation meant.
He didn't know what would happen if he refused.
But he understood one thing clearly:
Victor Kane hadn't asked.
Evan left his apartment just after midnight. He locked the door, paused, then unlocked it again—slid the key under the mat like he always did.
A stupid habit. One that wouldn't matter anymore.
The street was quiet. Too quiet. No black cars. No men waiting in the shadows. Evan almost laughed at himself for expecting them.
He walked two blocks before his phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
Stop walking.
Evan stopped.
His pulse spiked as he slowly looked around. A black sedan idled across the street, lights off, engine barely audible. The back door opened.
No one gestured.
No one rushed him.
The door simply waited.
Evan's legs felt numb as he crossed the street. The car smelled clean—leather, faint smoke, something expensive. He slid into the back seat.
The door closed.
Only then did the driver speak. "Seatbelt."
Evan obeyed.
The car moved.
They drove for nearly forty minutes. Evan stopped trying to track the route after the first ten. He stared out the window, watching familiar neighborhoods dissolve into industrial roads and private gates.
No one spoke to him.
No music. No small talk.
Just motion.
When the car finally stopped, Evan didn't ask where they were. The doors opened, and he stepped out into cold air and silence.
The building in front of him wasn't flashy. No neon. No guards in sight. Just a tall, dark structure that looked like it had nothing to prove.
Inside, everything was quiet and immaculate.
Victor Kane stood near a window, hands behind his back.
He didn't turn when Evan entered.
"You came," Victor said calmly.
"I didn't have a choice," Evan replied before he could stop himself.
Victor turned then—not slowly, not dramatically. Just enough to face him.
"You always have a choice," Victor said. "You just didn't like the alternatives."
Evan clenched his fists. "What do you want from me?"
Victor studied him for a moment, eyes unreadable. Then he gestured toward a chair.
"Sit."
Evan hesitated.
Victor waited.
The silence pressed down on Evan's chest until he gave in and sat. Victor remained standing, maintaining distance—never invading Evan's space, never touching him.
That made it worse.
"You're not here because you saw something," Victor said. "People see things all the time."
"Then why—"
"Because you noticed," Victor interrupted. "And you ran. And you didn't talk."
Evan swallowed.
"That tells me two things," Victor continued. "You're observant. And you're controllable."
Evan flinched. "I'm not—"
Victor's gaze sharpened—not angry, just precise.
"You are," he said. "Because you're sitting in my building, in my chair, answering my questions."
Silence again.
Victor walked to the table and poured himself a drink. He didn't offer Evan one.
"You'll stay here," Victor said. "You'll continue your life—college, job, routine. Nothing changes unless I say it does."
Evan stared at him. "That's it?"
Victor took a sip. "Those are the rules."
"What happens if I break them?"
Victor met his eyes.
"You won't," he said simply.
Evan felt it then—not fear exactly, but something heavier. Like his life had shifted slightly off its axis, and gravity now pointed somewhere else.
Victor set the glass down.
"You'll have a room," he added. "No locks. No guards. You're not a prisoner."
Evan laughed softly, bitter. "Then what am I?"
Victor stepped closer—just once—close enough that Evan had to tilt his head to look up at him.
"You're mine to manage," Victor said quietly. "Until I decide otherwise."
Evan's breath caught.
Victor straightened, already done with the conversation.
"Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow, we see how well you follow instructions."
As Victor walked away, Evan realized something chilling:
No one had taken his phone.
No one had threatened his life.
No one had raised their voice.
And yet—
Evan knew with absolute certainty that every step he took from now on would be watched.
Because ownership, he was beginning to understand, didn't need chains.