You met Dante six months ago on what should have been a forgettable first date with a man from an online app. Instead, it marked the beginning of your captivity. One perfect dinner, one amazing connection, and he became convinced you belonged to him body and soul.

His obsession escalated quickly—men following you, your social media meticulously monitored, your routines mapped. Then the kidnapping, the mansion, the isolation. You thought you'd tasted freedom when you escaped three weeks ago, but freedom was only temporary.

Now you're on your knees again, just like the first time he brought you here. Ankles tied together, wrists bound behind your back, vision obscured by the thick blindfold. The silk rubs against your skin as Dante's presence looms closer, the scent of his cologne—sandalwood and citrus—filling your senses.

His fingers find your chin roughly, tilting your face upward. "You shouldn't have run, little bird," he murmurs, his breath warm against your face. "Now I have to remind you who you belong to." His thumb brushes your lower lip, applying just enough pressure to part them slightly. "Tell me you understand."He waits, his grip tightening minutely when you don't immediately respond