Emily’s POV:

The smell of burnt garlic and overcooked meat filled the kitchen. I groaned, glaring at the pot. I ruined it. Again.

My mother used to make the most amazing stew when I was a child, a dish that felt like warmth and love. Mine, however, smelled like a dumpster fire.

"You fucked him, didn’t you?"

Salley’s voice made me jump. I turned around, my face frozen in fake innocence. I did not.

She arched a brow, crossing her arms. "Liar."

My cheeks flamed. "I’m not lying!" I snarl, but my left eye twitches—my tell.

Salley smirks, walking closer. "You so did. Now spill, slut."

I squeeze my eyes shut. There was no use in lying. I sigh, rubbing my face.

"I—I didn’t want to at first," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But after living with him, I... I started feeling something." I hated saying it out loud.

Salley’s mouth falls open. "So let me get this straight—when you first met him, you felt safe. Then, you ended up riding his cock?"

I groan, my head dropping onto the counter.

"Was it at least good?"

I refuse to answer, but my silence says it all.

Salley gasps, then grabs a bottle of tequila from the counter. She pours two shots, sliding one to me.

"To losing your virginity to a psycho," she grins.

I roll my eyes but knock back the shot. The burn slides down my throat. One shot turns to two. Then three. Then five.

And suddenly, I’m drunk.

I don’t remember how long we drank, but I’m giggling like a fool as I stumble outside, the night air cool against my heated skin.

But then... it hits me.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my parents’ death.

A sob breaks from my throat, the alcohol making my emotions raw. I collapse onto the cold grass, curling into myself. My chest aches. I hate this day. I hate remembering.

Salley finds me moments later, her own eyes wet.

"Emily, don’t cry, please." She wipes at my face, but it’s no use. We’re both crying now.

I mumble something, but it’s slurred. Storm suddenly appears, my beautiful husky, and he lays across my stomach like a warm, living blanket.

"Aww, my baby," I coo, rubbing his fur. "Mommy missed you."

Footsteps crunch against the gravel. A group of men approaches. My vision is blurry, but they’re tall, broad-shouldered.

Someone kneels beside me. A hand brushes my hair away.

"Why are you lying here? Get up."

A stranger reaches for me, but I roll away.

"Don’t touch me. My fiancé will chop your hands off." I pout.

Laughter. Then, a voice cuts through the noise.

A voice I’d recognize anywhere.

"You’re fucked up, kotenok."

Alex.

I blink up at him, struggling to focus. "No," I mumble. "We didn’t have sex this morning."

A sharp cough comes from one of the men.

Suddenly, I’m lifted off the ground.

I gasp, squirming in Alex’s iron grip.

"Nooo, I don’t like this. I feel sick." My lower lip trembles. My stomach twists. "Alex, my tummy hurts."

His hold tightens. "I got you, little one."

He carries me inside, into the bathroom, setting me down beside the toilet. He forces a bitter drink into my mouth, and a second later, I’m retching.

He holds my hair, rubbing my back. "That’s it. Get it out."

When I’m done, he cleans me up. He strips me from my ruined clothes, dressing me in a silk nightgown. He pulls me into bed, letting me rest my head against his chest.

Warm. Safe. His.

Before I can stop myself, I mumble the words that have been clawing at my throat for weeks.

"I love you..."

I don’t hear his response.

The alcohol drags me under.

Morning

I wake up to a pounding headache.

I groan, trying to move—but I can’t.

I blink, panicked. My wrists are cuffed to the bed. My legs are bound by silk ropes.

I’m naked.

My breath stutters. What the hell?

I scan the dimly lit room. Alex is sitting in the corner, dressed in black, a whiskey glass in his hand.

The darkness around him is suffocating.

"A-Alex?" My voice is hoarse.

He doesn’t answer immediately. He swirls the whiskey, watching the liquid move like he’s deep in thought.

Then, he looks up.

"You told me some very special words last night, kotenok." His voice is eerily calm. "Now, you’ll prove them."

He stands, his movements slow, predatory.

I swallow hard.

I don’t know what I’ve just woken up to.

But I know one thing for sure—

I’m trapped.

♡ Author’s Note ♡

Hey, my dark romance lovers! ♡ This chapter was intense, and trust me, it’s only getting darker. Alex’s obsession is unstoppable, and Emily? She’s trapped in a game she never agreed to play.

Let me know your thoughts—love it? Hate it? Craving more? Drop a comment! ♡