Wish you were mine

41. Game Changer

The room was shrouded in darkness, the silence oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic drip of water leaking from a pipe somewhere in the distance. In the center of the room, a lone chair stood under a weak beam of light, and in it sat a girl, her limbs bound tightly by ropes. Her head hung low, and her dark brown hair spilled over her face, obscuring her features.

She stirred, a soft groan of pain escaping her lips as her muscles screamed in protest with each small movement. Slowly, she lifted her head, her mind sluggishly pulling her from the haze of unconsciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, but the room was a void, the darkness absolute. Frustration flared as she shook her head, trying to toss the strands of hair away from her face, but they stubbornly clung to her skin.

Her body tensed as she tested the restraints on her wrists and ankles. The ropes bit into her skin, and she exhaled sharply, a resigned sigh escaping her. Bound. Trapped. Yet, she wasn't surprised.

A sound pierced the silence-footsteps. Slow, deliberate, and heavy. They echoed in the emptiness, drawing closer. The creak of a door being pushed open followed, then a sharp bang as it was slammed shut. Her pulse quickened.

The scent hit her first-sharp, musky cologne filling the air, and immediately, a smirk tugged at her lips. She knew that scent. Knew it far too well.

"So, you finally decided to show up," she said, her voice laced with mock amusement, though her throat was dry. "I was starting to get a little bored."

Though she couldn't see him, she didn't need to. Even in the pitch-black darkness, she could recognize him anywhere. Some people were nightmares you never forget.

A click. The light overhead flickered on, flooding the room with a harsh, blinding brightness. She flinched, eyes squeezing shut to shield them from the sudden glare. Slowly, she cracked them open, squinting through the haze until his silhouette came into focus. He was standing mere inches from her, tall and imposing.

Her blue eyes met his dark, onyx ones, locking in a tense, wordless exchange. For a moment, neither of them moved nor spoke. It was as though they were communicating silently, a battle of wills in the brief stillness.

"For someone who was kidnapped just hours before her wedding, you seem awfully calm," he finally said, his voice smooth as he casually slid his hands into his pockets.

She glanced over his attire, taking in the sharp lines of his tailored black suit, the matching shirt, the tie knotted neatly at his throat. He looked like a man dressed for a funeral, though she had to admit-black suited him.

Sophie smirked, a defiant glint in her eyes. "What did you expect? For me to cry and beg?" A short, mocking laugh escaped her. "Please. You must've forgotten who I am."

Her voice lowered, fierce and unwavering. "I'm Sophie Davis. I don't cower in fear. I don't need saving. Don't mistake me for some damsel in distress. I'm a lioness. I stare death in the eyes and dare it to blink first."

Their gazes remained locked, her words a clear challenge. For a brief moment, surprise flickered across his face, but then he chuckled softly, a low sound that filled the room. "Of course, you are."

Her expression softened, though the defiance never left. "Alright, enough jokes. Could you untie me? These ropes are killing my wrists, and I could really use a stretch."

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You do realize I kidnapped you, right?"

She rolled her eyes at his question, as though it was obvious. "Yes, I noticed," she replied dryly. "But what, you think if you untie me, I'll just run away?"

"Wouldn't you?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"Why would I?" She shrugged, as if the idea was ridiculous. "You've probably brought me to some godforsaken place in the middle of nowhere. Running is pointless. Besides," her smirk deepened, "you'll drop me off yourself in a few hours anyway, so why make things harder than they need to be?"