Shattered Vows

Black out

I stared at my reflection, my fingers moving mechanically as I tied back my hair. The quiet in the house felt heavier than usual, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. I couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at me, even as I tried to focus on my face in the mirror. Then, out of nowhere, a shadow moved behind me.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. I blinked, my eyes darting to the corner of the mirror where I swore I saw something—a figure, lurking in the shadows. I spun around quickly, but the room was empty. My breath hitched, and I felt foolish, shaking my head to clear it. "It's just your imagination," I whispered, though the words did little to calm me.

Just as I started to turn back to the mirror, the lights flickered. And then, everything went dark.

The sudden blackness sent a spike of fear through me. I stood still, holding my breath, listening for any sound, any movement. The quiet was suffocating, oppressive. My hands fumbled in the dark, searching for something solid to hold onto. I moved toward the cabinet, my fingers trembling as they finally closed around the familiar shape of a flashlight. I clicked it on, and a beam of weak light cut through the darkness.

The house was unnervingly empty. Marco's men were nowhere to be seen. I made my way downstairs, my footsteps unnaturally loud in the silence. My flashlight darted from wall to wall, revealing only more shadows. No one.

I called out, my voice sounding too small in the vast emptiness. "Hello? Is anyone there?" The silence pressed in around me, making my heart race even faster. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but then I heard it—a faint sound, almost like a footstep.

I turned quickly, shining the flashlight toward the noise, but before I could react, a powerful force slammed into me. I gasped, my back hitting the wall with a thud, knocking the air from my lungs. A hand clamped over my mouth, silencing the scream that threatened to break free. I struggled, but his grip was firm, his body holding me in place with an overwhelming strength that felt both controlled and commanding.

"Don't," he said, his voice deep and steady, resonating with authority. It wasn't a threat—it was a calm instruction, firm yet almost... considerate. The flashlight lay forgotten on the floor, casting a soft, flickering light on the scene. His body pressed against mine, but not with violence. His strength was undeniable, but there was no cruelty in it. He was in control, and he wanted me to know it.

I froze, breath shallow, my body trembling against his. His presence was overpowering, his hold firm yet strangely restrained. He was taller than me, his frame solid, but he didn't crush me. Instead, he kept me in place, as if he wanted to show that he could, but without causing pain.

"If you want to stay alive," he said, his voice low and firm, with a cold edge to it, "you'll stop fighting and do exactly as I say." His eyes bore into mine, unrelenting. There was no softness, only an unyielding command that sent a chill down my spine. "I'm not here to hurt you, but if you want to survive this, you need to behave."

I looked up at him, heart still racing, and met his eyes. Dark hazel, intense and piercing. There was something behind them—calculated, yes, but not heartless. I knew those eyes. They were familiar, though in the haze of fear, I couldn't place them.

His hand shifted slightly, moving away from my mouth but still keeping me pinned gently against the wall. He wasn't rough, wasn't cruel—just powerful in a way that left no room for negotiation. His strength was undeniable, but his control over it was even more striking.

"You're coming with me," he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. His tone was firm, but not unkind. It was more like a command from someone who expected to be obeyed. I could feel the authority in his voice, mature and grounded. This wasn't a game to him. It was something he had to do, and he wasn't taking pleasure in it, but he wouldn't hesitate either.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth. My eyes widened in realization, but before I could react, he pressed it gently over my mouth and nose.

I fought, kicking and thrashing as the world started to blur. He held me carefully, not letting go, but not crushing me either. His strength was overwhelming, but it wasn't harsh. It was controlled, measured, like everything he did had a purpose. My body grew weaker, my vision fading. Until I couldn't...couldn't...I... Black out