Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

As soon as Darius stepped into his bedroom, exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. His temples throbbed from the weight of the day—the fight with Luc had left him seething, his mother's tears had carved guilt into his chest, and frustration coiled tight in his muscles like a wound spring. He wanted nothing more than silence, a moment to breathe.

Then Sasha's voice cut through the air like a blade.

**"When am I leaving?"**

The carefully frayed threads of his patience snapped.

Before she could react, he closed the distance between them in a single breath. His fingers wrapped around her wrists, not cruel, but firm—unyielding. With a sharp gasp, she found herself pinned against the cold wall, her back pressing into the unforgiving surface. His body caged hers, the heat of him searing through the space between them.

The air crackled, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

Then he kissed her.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was a collision of tempers, of stubborn wills locked in a battle neither of them understood. His lips crashed against hers, forcing her to take every unshed frustration, every bottled-up emotion he refused to voice. His grip tightened ever so slightly as if daring her to push him away.

But she didn't.

A quiet gasp slipped from her lips, her body going rigid beneath his hold. His mouth moved against hers with an urgency that was almost desperate—angry, demanding, and yet devastatingly consuming. His tongue swept against her lips, a silent command, a challenge, igniting something deep within her that she wasn't prepared for.

Heat.

It spread through her veins, unfurling in slow, dangerous waves. Foreign sensations rippled through her, leaving her trembling, breathless. Her pulse thundered, her fingers curling at her sides, unsure whether to fight or surrender.

Darius felt it—the moment her resistance faltered, the second hesitation flickered in her body. His lips softened for just a fraction of a second, as if testing the fire he had awakened. Then, just as suddenly as he had consumed her, he pulled away.

The absence of his warmth sent a sharp jolt through her.

Sasha gasped, her chest rising and falling in frantic, uneven breaths. Her lips tingled, bruised from the force of his kiss, her mind spinning as she struggled to process what had just happened.

Darius remained close, his breath ghosting over her skin, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers racing down her spine. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

The silence between them was deafening.

And yet, something had shifted. Something irreversible.

Darius's gaze burned into her, dark and unreadable, a smoldering abyss that swallowed every flicker of resistance she dared to show.

**"This is the last time you dare to question me like that."** His voice was a slow, deliberate threat, each syllable pressing into her like the edge of a knife. **"No one questions a Don. Do you understand?"**

Sasha's breath hitched. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat. The pressure of his fingers around her wrists was unrelenting, a silent warning of what defiance would cost her. Tears welled in her eyes, slipping from the corners like silent confessions of her fear. She nodded frantically, terrified of what would happen if she didn't.

Darius's expression didn't soften. If anything, it became even more unreadable. **"Good."**

His grip remained firm, his hold on her inescapable as he continued, **"Now, there are things you need to understand if you want to live."**

A sharp tremor ran through her, but she couldn't move. His words were heavy, sinking into her bones like chains.

**"First,"** he said, his tone unwavering, **"you have been kidnapped by me."**

Sasha's breath stilled, her body turning ice-cold.

**Kidnapped.**

The word sent a jolt of sheer horror through her veins.

**"Second,"** he went on mercilessly, his fingers tightening around her delicate wrists, **"you're not allowed to leave. From the moment I laid my eyes on you, you became mine."**

The finality in his voice, the absolute authority he wielded, made her stomach churn. Her mind screamed at her to fight, to resist, but the suffocating aura surrounding him made it impossible.

A small, broken sound escaped her lips—half a plea, half a sob. She wrenched at his grip, twisting her wrists desperately, but he was an unmovable force, unyielding and relentless.

**"Please…"** she choked, barely able to form words past the terror constricting her throat.

Darius didn't react to her desperation. His grip didn't loosen, nor did his stance shift. Instead, he lifted one hand, his thumb tracing the damp trail of a tear as it rolled down her cheek.

Then, to her utter shock, he pressed his lips to the path it left behind.

Sasha stiffened. The kiss wasn't harsh or cruel; it was slow, deliberate, almost tender. But it wasn't affection—it was control. A silent declaration that he could take what he wanted, when he wanted, and there was nothing she could do about it.

A shiver coursed through her.

**"The sooner you accept this,"** he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and steady, **"the happier you will be."**

She turned her face away sharply, but it didn't matter. There was nowhere to go, no way to escape him. His presence was all-consuming, swallowing the air around her until she felt like she was suffocating.

Darius didn't step back. Instead, his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear, the barest graze of heat against her skin as he continued, **"We're getting married this weekend."**

Sasha's body locked up.

A sharp, strangled gasp left her lips as her mind reeled. **"No,"** she whimpered, shaking her head violently, panic clawing at her chest. **"No, you can't do this. I don't want to marry you! You can have any woman you want!"** Her voice cracked, raw with desperation. **"I—I don't even belong to your culture!"**

She didn't know why she added that last part. Maybe she thought it would matter to him, that it would be enough to deter this madness. But the moment the words left her lips, she saw the mistake in them.

Darius let out a low chuckle, though there was nothing remotely amused about it. His fingers slid under her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his.

**"I choose how my things will be, Sasha,"** he said, voice eerily calm. **"Don't fucking test me."**

The air in her lungs turned to ice.

He didn't see her as a person. Not as an individual with her own choices, her own will. To him, she was a possession—something he had claimed, something that now belonged to him whether she accepted it or not.

His lips brushed against her ear again, but this time, he bit down harshly, the sudden sting making her flinch. She tried to jerk away, but he was immovable—solid as stone, as relentless as a predator toying with its prey.

His voice dropped lower, a whisper that felt more like a noose tightening around her.

**"As for your culture,"** he said smoothly, **"you'll learn. I believe in you."**

A fresh wave of terror slammed into her, so strong she thought she might collapse.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Darius released her wrists, stepping back just enough for her to breathe. But it didn't help. He was still too close. His scent, the heat of his body, the weight of his presence—it all suffocated her.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice as she whispered, **"C-Can you leave me now?"**

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied her, dark eyes tracing every inch of her face, every shaky breath she took, every fear-filled flicker of emotion that passed through her gaze.

Then, without a word, he turned and strode into the washroom, leaving her standing there—shaken, breathless, and more trapped than she had ever been in her life.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Sasha stumbled onto the balcony, her body trembling as though the weight of his presence had finally crushed her. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed against the cold wall, her fingers clawing at the slick surface as though grasping for an escape that no longer existed. A sob tore through her, raw and violent, shaking her fragile frame like a storm trapped within her chest.

The rain had begun to fall—soft at first, a whisper against the city's restless heartbeat. Then, without mercy, it grew heavier, cascading from the heavens in thick, unrelenting sheets. It soaked through her thin dress, clinging to her skin, wrapping around her like an embrace she neither sought nor welcomed. Droplets streamed down her face, mingling with the salty tracks of her tears, indistinguishable from one another, as if the sky itself had chosen to weep alongside her.

The distant hum of the city blurred beneath the sound of the storm, but Sasha heard nothing beyond the hollow ache in her chest. Her vision swam, the lights below smearing into golden smudges through the veil of rain. Her breath came in broken gasps, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and despair.

Inside, Darius stood frozen, his hands braced against the marble sink, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. His reflection stared back at him in the mirror, dark eyes shadowed with something unreadable, something even he refused to acknowledge. The muffled sound of Sasha's sobs cut through the steady drum of the rain, piercing through the walls, through his chest—through whatever part of him still remained human.

But he didn't go to her.

He didn't step out onto the balcony, didn't pull her into his arms as she shattered under the weight of everything he had just forced upon her. He stayed rooted in place, jaw clenched, his heart warring against the choice he had already made.

Because he had decided.

And so had fate.