Victoria

I can't move.

I can't see. From the dark fabric that's blocking my view, for my eyesight to gather only blackness, an uncanny darkness still mixes with the confusion in my gut.

Who did this?!

Someone took me....

Why?!

I struggle moving around my wrists, but they seem to be tied - some rough material tight against my hot skin. And I'm seated in a hard chair, I feel. The only sound to pound in my ears is the incessant hammer of my heart.

But I'm anything but afraid. I'm angry. Angry at the fact that I was taken just when everything was...perfect. We were content. And I just got engaged! SO WHO ON EARTH WOULD TAKE ME?! WHAT DID I DO?!

Suddenly there's a squeak, coming from nearby. It sounds like a door opening.

I swallow, clenching my perspiring palms that are slick with sweat.

All I see, still, is black.

That is, until a forceful tug is acted out on the dark material hovering my face. Watching the black cloth being thrown onto the floor, my breathing exceeds once I catch my breath.

Then I face ahead. Meeting the familiar, inscrutable dark brown irises of Isaiah. Darkness consumes me.

I clench my jaw hard, glaring at the tall enemy who steadies on my gaze with perceptive eyes beneath his black and ruffled hair.

Isaiah's arched brows escalate. "Hello again." He starts, his raw tone sending chills down my spine. I swallow again, hard - my light brown irises sparking a lethal flame.

"What do you think you're doing?" I spit, "You took me?!"

Isaiah's lips purse, before they cryptically quirk up. And just like our last encounter, trouble radiates off of him.

He brings a hand up to run it through his ruffled hair, his curved lips releasing a small chuckle - a cold one.

"Relax, Princess. You're not in harm's way. This is just a little..." his husky tone is relaxed, while he scratches the back of his neck - his black V-neck shirt clinging onto the muscles in his arms. I watch Isaiah shrug, carelessly. "Bait. I guess you're just bait." He chuckles sickly, his bright teeth soon showcasing.

My blood begins to boil. My brows furrow in his direction. "What do you mean bait?" I ask abruptly, watching him search my gaze from where he claims ground across the room.

The room is quite small, desolate, even. With one armchair embellished in the corner of the dull walls, the ceiling light casts down on our two figures.

And just like last time, Isaiah's voice and my own are the only one's to hang in the thick air.

I remember how I pondered on his recognition of me, and if he ever remembered our past encounter before the grand hotel - when he was just a seemingly innocent guy with a bow tie to show up at my door with strawberries.

That curiosity has far abandoned my veins. That guy in my memory wasn't even the one that stands before me now. No, for this one is darker. Mysterious. Dangerous.

"You see," His deep voice tears me from my thoughts, my shoulders tensing slightly when he starts in his deliberate steps toward me, "what went down back at East Wayward... now that just wasn't fair." He frowns, leaning down to align with my grave gaze.

Either of his hands rests upon either arm of the chair I'm seated in; his muscly arms just inches away from brushing against either tense shoulder of mine. I hold my breath.

"I intended on getting my revenge. You killed one of my men in Puerto Rico. You even took back your money." He explains, his dark irises glinting with something unreadable. "Then you and your men took down half of mine. When mine didn't even lay a finger on yours, yet."

"Rio gave you thirty grand." I remind lowly.

"In exchange for you." He responds rather quickly, his jaw visibly hardening. "Only one revenge attempt left for us to bond our ties. For us to be even and final."

My heart races coldly, near him. Finally, Isaiah stands upright. And he takes one step back, widening the tensed space between our figures.

Tight tension hangs loose in the air.

Isaiah shrugs again, in his black V-neck. "Sorry, Princess. But we're just gonna have to wait it out."

"Wait what out?! Why is it that you kidnapped me?" I ask through gritted teeth, wanting nothing but to charge at him. But the ropes are tight on my skin, on either wrists, and I struggle in the hard seat.

Unlike last time, I have no limits. I couldn't hurt him last time due to the fact that I was outnumbered, by his aggressive men. If only I wasn't tied up...

And speaking of, what are they to him anyway? Is he even their leader?

"Please, don't make yourself sound special, sweetheart." Isaiah rolls his mystifying eyes, before walking away from me.

What's up with all the nicknames under the sun?!

Sweetie.

Princess.

Sweetheart.

One more and I will-

"Oh!" Isaiah's low voice pipes in realization, whilst he turns on his heel to face me again. "And before you deliver me all the hate, I'm not the one who tied you up. It was one of my men. So that's a plus-"

"Untie me." I interject darkly, offering daggers through my brown irises.

Isaiah cocks his brows, before he licks his lips briefly, and crosses his arms across his chest.

A faint, certainly not weak, humorless laugh escapes me. And I settle on his inscrutable dark eyes again.

"So what, you're just gonna wait it out, see if Rio is gonna make a special appearance and you make an attempt to take him down?" I question, seconds before a sick laugh escapes my pink lips, and I shake my head.

"Oh no, love. Rio isn't your problem." I clarify lowly, within a mere whisper. "Why target Rio when you have a much bigger bomb, right in front of you?" I finish, lips curving up sadistically.

Isaiah watches me with an unreadable expression, a moment, while he examines my defying brown eyes.

Then, his lips twitch immensely.

And he purses his lips, when he glances elsewhere. "And to think I was gonna untie you." He sighs, when meeting my gaze again.

I roll my eyes in disbelief.

His mischievous irises twinkle, under the ceiling light.

"Guards," He calls out, but never removes his searching irises from my own, and a smug smirk forms cryptically across his face - reaching each brown iris of his. He props his hands on either side of the waist his shirt clutches onto.

Just then three men enter the room with solemn and grave expressions upon their faces. I smirk, in return of such the sight.

"Three is a little extreme. Don't you think?" I say, my voice stern. I succeed in suppressing a grin, locking onto Isaiah's perceptive eyes.

Afterward he forms a smirk, staring at me - that unrecognizable glimmer still lurking behind his dark brown irises.

"What do you want us to do with her, Bossman?" One out of the three buff guards question him, circling around my captivated frame.

Isaiah turns his back, whilst combing a hand through his black hair again. I peer up at the three men hovering me, and I grunt from my failed attempt at launching toward them. I struggle under the tight rope, enveloping either burning wrist of mine - my flaming irises latching onto Isaiah's back simultaneously.

I watch him shrug, while swinging the squeaky door open for his dismissal.

"Feed her strawberries." He orders huskily, carelessly, never showing mercy or turning around to meet my gaze.

I stop struggling suddenly, on the hard chair, and watch the tall door deliberately shut after he's disappeared behind it.

My pink lips part.

He remembers.

---

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