Chapter 36: Captured
Elisa’s POV
Elisa walked briskly down the marble-floored hallway that led out of the restaurant, her heels clicking softly as she adjusted the strap of her purse. Her heart thudded with quiet exhilaration. Finally—some freedom. Just a moment to breathe, to feel like herself again.
The night air hit her like a soft sigh when she stepped out through the second exit behind the restaurant. The street beyond was alive but calmer than the crowded parts of the city she was used to. Lights shimmered across high-end boutiques and sleek cars that lined the curbs. The people here moved differently—richer, quieter, their laughter softer, as though even joy had a price tag.
She glanced down at her phone. A quick message popped up from Isadora, asking if she was okay. Elisa rolled her eyes but smiled. Just the bathroom, sis. She typed something simple and put the phone back into her purse.
She wasn’t planning to run off—not really. Just a little detour. The Razor Club was nearby, and she’d heard about it enough times to want to see it for herself. Maybe she’d grab a drink, listen to music, maybe even meet someone interesting and rich like her sister did.
Life wasn’t supposed to be lived in a cage. I also want to meet a billionaire that will spoil me!
Her heels clicked against the pavement as she followed the soft pulse of music that grew louder down the street. The club’s black marble front reflected passing cars like water, and two tall bouncers stood by the velvet rope.
Inside, the air was thick—scented with cologne, alcohol, and the faint trace of smoke. The music thumped steadily, vibrating through the floor. Flashing lights painted faces in shades of gold and red.
Elisa took a seat at the bar and sent her sister a quick text before she ordered something light just to blend in. Her reflection caught her eye in the mirror behind the bartender: sleek black hair, red lips, and the quiet confidence she had missed for so long.
She looked like herself again with a smile on her lips when someone caught her eye.
A man leaned casually against the bar, watching her from a few feet away. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in an immaculately fitted black shirt that hinted at muscle beneath. His presence was magnetic—something about the way he stood, composed yet commanding, made her heartbeat quicken.
When he caught her gaze, he smiled. It wasn’t boyish or forced—it was slow, deliberate. The kind of smile that made her skin warm.
"Did you come here alone?" His voice was deep, smooth, edged with confidence moving closer to sit right beside her.
Elisa hesitated for a moment, swirling her drink before answering, "For now."
"Good," he said with a quiet chuckle. "It’s a dangerous city. You shouldn’t be alone."
The irony made her laugh softly. "I have protection."
"Do you?" he asked, amused, stepping a little closer. "Because I could help with that."
There was something charming about his arrogance—dangerous, yes, but intoxicating too. She told herself she was just talking, just enjoying the attention. But when he suggested stepping outside to "get some air," she followed.
The night outside the club felt cooler now, quieter. Cars passed occasionally, but the narrow alley beside the building was dim and shadowed. She wasn’t afraid—not really. He seemed rich, clean, too self-assured to be a threat. And maybe, deep down, she wanted what her sister had—someone powerful, someone who made her feel small but seen.
They stopped near a sleek black car parked at the side of the alley. The man turned to her with that same lazy confidence.
"You’re not like the others," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers were warm, the touch deliberate.
Elisa smiled faintly. "You barely know me."
"Some people don’t need to be known," he murmured. "You just feel them."
Her breath caught. The world felt oddly distant—the hum of traffic muffled, the lights blurring slightly as if she were drifting. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something heavier in the air.
When his hand brushed the back of her neck, she thought he was going to kiss her. But instead, something rough and sudden pressed against her lips—a bitter-tasting cloth that filled her mouth before she could scream.
Her body jerked in shock. A sharp sound—metal against metal—echoed as she felt something clamp over her head, darkness folding around her face.
Elisa tried to pull away, but strong arms seized her from behind. Panic exploded in her chest. She kicked, clawed, but her wrists were caught, her legs yanked back. Muffled sounds escaped her throat, desperate and hollow.
"Quiet," a voice hissed near her ear.
She screamed harder.
A slap came next—hard, sharp, the taste of copper spreading across her tongue. Her vision, trapped behind fabric, spun and blurred. Another strike followed, harder this time, and her body went limp, dazed by pain.
The last thing she remembered before everything went black was the faint rumble of a car engine and the steady rhythm of her own heart pounding in her ears.
When she woke, the air was cold.
Elisa’s head throbbed as though her skull had been split open. Her body ached in places she couldn’t name. She tried to move, but her wrists didn’t budge—something bit tightly into her skin, binding her to what felt like a wooden chair. Her breath came out in short, uneven gasps as she blinked into the dim light aware that she was naked even before she fully opened her eyes.
The room was silent, save for the slow drip of water from somewhere unseen. The walls were concrete, gray and damp. A single lamp hung from the ceiling, its flickering light casting long, uneven shadows.
Then she saw him.
The man stood a few feet away, his face unreadable in the half-light. He was taller than she remembered—his build broader, his presence heavier. Tattoos crawled across his arms and his shirt folded up to reveal dark shapes she couldn’t decipher.
Her heart leapt to her throat.
"Please..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear—whatever this is, it’s a mistake!"
He didn’t respond. His eyes were dark and still, like glass. He didn’t even blink.
Elisa’s panic surged. "I have money—so much money. I’ll give you whatever you want, just please—please let me go."
Still nothing.
The man turned away, picking something up from a metal tray that rested on a nearby table. The faint clinking of metal made her stomach twist. She couldn’t see what it was through her tears—only the glint of silver under the light.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Please..." she whispered again, her voice trembling. "I’ll do anything."
"What do you want?" she screamed with tears sliding down her face.
He finally looked at her, head tilting slightly, as though studying a specimen. The silence was unbearable. Elisa felt her chest tighten until breathing became an effort. Every nerve in her body screamed to run, to escape, but she couldn’t move.
The man’s shadow shifted closer, and instinctively she pulled back as far as the restraints allowed.
"Don’t," she sobbed, "please don’t—"
Something cold brushed her skin, and she flinched violently. There was a sharp pressure against her hand, and before she could even comprehend what was happening, a burning pain shot up her arm—a brief, unbearable flash of white-hot agony that made her scream until her voice cracked.
The sound of her own scream echoed off the walls, raw and terrified.
He placed something down on the tray again. Metal clinked softly.
Elisa’s body shook uncontrollably. She didn’t dare to look. Her vision blurred with tears as her chest rose and fell in panicked, uneven breaths. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak.
All she could feel was the tremor of fear that spread through her entire body like wildfire.
When she finally looked up, the man hadn’t moved. He stood there, calm, watching her with an expression so empty it chilled her to the bone.
Her mind screamed at her to keep talking, to plead, to do anything to make him stop. But her lips wouldn’t move. Her voice had abandoned her.
The room seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker, pressing against her lungs.
Somewhere far away, in a world that no longer felt real, she thought of Isadora—of her warnings. She wished she had listened. She wished she hadn’t walked out that door.
Her tears fell silently now, her throat too raw to sob. The man reached for something else on the tray, the faint metallic clink and sharp her yes wider now for her to see what was going on. It was a surgical scissors one he placed right on her pinky finger.
Elisa’s gaze blurred again as she trembled in the chair, every nerve screaming in horror. She didn’t know what was next—but she knew, with terrifying certainty, that no one was coming for her tonight.
And for the first time in her life, she understood what true silence felt like just before she heard the sharp crunching of bone and heard screams that could only belong to her.
