Swamp Murder

Swamp Murder. 9

Inside, Black was lounging behind his computer, a smirk already on his face as I entered. He looked up, eyes narrowing. "Zhan," he says, his voice smooth, but laced with something dangerous. "You're late."

I swallow hard, my gaze dropping. I force myself to stand taller, refusing to let him see my troubles. "Had things to do."

He narrows his eyes. "Things to do?" He leans forward, his fingers tapping on the desk, each tap loud in the quiet. "Do you think I'm someone to be kept waiting?"

"Sorry! I got carried away with what I was doing." I reply.

"Thought you'd be hiding with that old lady forever." he hissed.

"I wasn't hiding," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. "I was just helping my grandmother."

Black laughed a dark sound that sent chills through me. "Helping, huh? You belong here. I don't like you going off without me knowing where you are."

I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay calm. "I can't just drop everything every time you call. I have a life too, you know?"

The smirk disappeared, and his eyes hardened. He leaned forward, his fingers tapping against his knee. "You think you have a choice? After what your mother did, I own you. Or did you forget that little detail?"

I felt the familiar surge of anger and hurt rise, but I swallowed it down, knowing better than to argue. "No," I said quietly, my gaze dropping to the floor. "I haven't forgotten."

"Good," he replied, his voice smooth and satisfied. "Because if I have to remind you, it won't be pretty. Just ask your mother what happens when people don't pay their debts."

I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting back the urge to scream. This wasn't a life—it was a trap, a cage that felt like it was closing in tighter every day. I hated him, hated the way he looked at me like I was a possession, something he could control. But I had to keep that hatred buried, hidden, because showing it would only make things worse.

Black leaned back, his smile returning. "I want you to stay here tonight."

I shook my head, summoning every ounce of courage I had left. "I need to get back. Grandma's expecting me.""I opened my mouth to tell him the truth, but the thought of his mocking smile stopped me. The silence felt safer."

He scowled, annoyance flickering across his face. "I don't care what she's expecting. You're staying here." His tone was final, cold.

Panic surged in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Please, Black. She's old, and I don't want her worrying. I'll come back tomorrow, I promise."

"Freshen up and get dressed, I have a party and I want you to be my plus-one. If you behave, I'll drop you at home," Black says, his tone commanding yet casual.

I don't answer him. I simply open the door to his room, step inside, and head straight for the bathroom. I can hear his soft chuckle, but it doesn't matter. The water from the shower hits my skin like a gentle reminder of all the things I've been running from lately. I finish, towel dry, and pull on the fresh clothes laid out on the bed for me. They fit perfectly, yet they're the kind of clothes that make me feel out of place. Stylish, yes, but I'm not sure they suit me. Nevertheless, I look in the mirror, steady myself, and walk toward the office.

When I step into the office, Black looks up from his phone. His lips curl into a smile. "You look good," he says, standing up and walking toward me. He places his hand on my chest, a soft gesture that doesn't quite match the intensity in his eyes.