Isabella's POV
I woke up to the scent of cedar, smoke, and something colder beneath it like expensive danger bottled into a man's skin.
My head was heavy, My mouth dry, My instincts? Screaming!!
Where the hell was I?
Silk sheets, A marble floor, Walls too clean, Windows too high, Too secure.
Not the bus terminal, neither the mansion I run away from.
I sat up slowly, my body stiff from sleep or drugs. My jacket was gone. So was the switchblade I'd sewn into the lining. I was in someone else's clothes, loose and soft. A robe. A trap disguised as comfort.
And then I heard him.
"I was wondering when Sleeping Beauty would wake up."
I turned my head toward the voice, already hating it.
Lucien Vale sat in a velvet chair like he owned the room. Like he owned the world. His legs were crossed. One hand held a glass of whiskey. His expression? Calm, Watchful. Too calm,Too dangerous.
"What the hell did you do to me?" I demanded.
"Nothing permanent," he said with a shrug. "You were exhausted, I helped you sleep."
"You drugged me."
He didn't even blink. "Would you have come here willingly?"
My skin prickled. "No, And I still won't."
"You're here now, Isabella."
Hearing him say my name like that… smooth, low, as if I were something he'd already claimed I hated it. I hated how my hands were shaking.
I forced myself out of bed and stood tall.
"You don't get to touch me," I said. "You don't get to keep me."
Lucien tilted his head slightly, like I'd amused him.
"Your father would disagree," he said. "He's kept you your whole life."
"I ran."
"Yes," he murmured. "Right into my arms."
My fingers curled. "If you think for one second I belong to you..."
"Isabella, I want you. Untamed, unwilling, dangerous."
I froze. My mind went silent for half a second.
Then I laughed. Bitter and loud.
"You kidnapped me because you're turned on by rebellion?"
He smiled, slowly. "I didn't kidnap you. I offered you safety. You're still free to leave."
I raised a brow. "You expect me to believe that?"
Lucien stood now, graceful and smooth, like a panther in expensive shoes. He walked to the door, opened it wide, and gestured.
"There's a car parked downstairs. No guards. Keys on the front table. Leave if you want. But if you step outside, your father's men will find you in under an hour."
I didn't move.
"Go ahead," he said, voice low. "Be brave Or be smart."
God, I hated him.
I hated how calm he was... How sure, How right.
I crossed my arms. "What do you want from me?"
His gaze sharpened. "I want you to realize what you are."
I didn't answer.
"I see it," he continued. "The fury in you. The hunger to be more than some old man's trade deal. You don't want their war. You want your own power."
He was reading me like a map I didn't give him permission to hold.
"And you think I need you to get it?"
"No," he said. "But I think you'll need me to survive what comes next."
I walked toward him. Close enough to see the scar just below his right ear. Close enough to make it hurt if I wanted to.
But I didn't move.
I let the silence speak.
Lucien stepped back, slowly. "Think, Isabella. Rest, Eat, Plan. This isn't a cage. It's a weapon. One I'm handing to you."
Then he left the room.
The door stayed open.
I stood there, heart thudding, every nerve in my body burning with rage and calculation.