noticed him.

Not him exactly, but the men. They were too polished for this part of the city, standing on street corners in tailored jackets, pretending to smoke or talk on their phones. Their eyes followed her, sharp and unyielding.

At first, she told herself it was paranoia. That maybe her exhaustion had twisted her thoughts. But when she turned down an alley, hoping to cut through to the marketplace, one of them was already there—leaning casually against the wall, waiting.

Her steps faltered.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just let his gaze settle on her, steady as stone, until her chest felt tight.

By the time she reached the market, her hands were trembling. She paid too much for a stale roll of bread, barely able to chew it past the knot in her throat. Every time she looked up, someone new was watching. A different man, a different angle, but the same message.

She wasn’t alone.

By late afternoon, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She spun on her heel in the middle of the street and shouted, “What do you want from me?”

Heads turned. Not from the strangers watching her—but from the ordinary people nearby. They looked at her with something like pity before quickly looking away. As if they already knew the answer.

A hand closed gently, too gently, around her arm. She flinched, whipping around to find one of Adrian’s men at her side. His expression was neutral, his grip firm but not cruel.

“You should come with us,” he said.

Her throat dried. “No.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled a phone from his pocket and murmured something into it, too low for her to hear. Then he released her, stepping back into the crowd.

Moments later, the black SUV slid to the curb.

The door opened.

And there he was.

Adrian Blackthorne sat in the leather seat like a king on his throne, one arm draped casually over the backrest. His eyes met hers through the rain-specked glass, unblinking, unreadable.

“Elena,” he said, as though he had known her name all along.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t told anyone.

“You’re afraid.” His voice was low, smooth. “Good. Fear keeps you alive in my city.”

Her stomach twisted. She wanted to scream, to tell him he had no right. But the words died when he leaned forward, shadows clinging to his scarred jaw, and spoke the words that made her knees weaken.

“You belong to me now.”

The SUV door clicked shut, the car rolling away before she could breathe.

Elena stood frozen in the street, heart pounding, hands trembling around the loaf of stale bread she still clutched.

And for the first time since she’d arrived, she realized she wasn’t running anymore.

She was being hunted.