I had sworn I would never be here again.

Never in his grasp. Never under his control. Never his prisoner.

And yet, here I was.

Back where it all began.

Back in the hands of the man who had once loved me.

Back in the hands of the man I had tried to destroy.

Back to being his captive.

The scent of leather and expensive cologne filled my lungs as I stirred, my body sluggish, my mind still wrapped in the fog of unconsciousness. My head lolled to the side, and when I opened my eyes, all I saw was darkness—the dim glow of the cabin lights barely illuminating the space around me.

The hum of the jet's engines thrummed beneath my skin, a cruel reminder of just how far away I was from escape.

I tried to move, but my body felt heavy, useless.

Distantly, I knew why.

Chloroform.

Again.

My throat tightened as memories slammed into me all at once.

The gala.

The mask slipping from my face.

Antonio's expression—a war between disbelief and fury.

And then—

The feeling of his arms catching me as the world faded to black.

A slow, burning rage coiled inside me, bitter and sharp.

He had caught me.

Again.

I inhaled, steadying myself before forcing my gaze across the small cabin.

And there he was.

Antonio Bianchi.

Sitting across from me in the same jet he had used to take me the first time.

His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped together. His suit was slightly rumpled, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the tense muscles beneath. He was staring at me, unmoving, silent, but his dark eyes burned with something raw.

Anger.

Betrayal.

Disbelief.

I held his gaze, refusing to look away.

If he was waiting for me to beg, to plead, to crumble beneath his control—

He would die waiting.

My voice was hoarse, but steady when I finally spoke.

"You drugged me."

His jaw clenched, but he didn't respond.

"You kidnapped me," I continued, my fingers curling into fists. "Again."

Nothing.

A heavy, suffocating silence stretched between us.

Finally, he exhaled, slow and controlled, before leaning back against his seat.

"Don't act surprised, Isabella." His voice was smooth, calm—too calm. "You ran. I chased. You lost."

I bared my teeth in something that wasn't a smile. "So what now?" I demanded. "You keep me locked up again? You think chaining me to your world will make me obedient?"

Antonio didn't flinch.

His gaze was unreadable, but the sharp edge of his anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

"You don't get to ask questions," he murmured. "Not anymore."

A cruel laugh escaped me. "That's rich, coming from a man who thought I was dead."

His eyes darkened.

Good.

Let him feel the fury I had carried for months.

Let him feel the rage of knowing someone you loved had been ripped away from you.

He didn't say anything, but the tension in the cabin became suffocating.

I turned back to the window, watching the clouds drift below us. "Where are we going?"

"Home."

I swallowed hard, keeping my expression neutral.

Home.

His home.

Never mine.

The plane descended slowly, the engines shifting as we neared the runway. I forced my breath to remain steady, even as my heart pounded inside my ribcage.

I had no illusions about what was coming next.

Antonio wouldn't kill me.

Not yet.

Not until he had answers.

Not until he understood why I had come back from the dead to destroy him.

And I wouldn't give him what he wanted.

Because no matter how tightly he held me—

No matter how many walls, locks, or chains he wrapped around me—

I was not his captive.

Not really.

Because I still had a secret.

One final move in a game he didn't know he was playing.

And as the wheels touched the ground, my lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile.

Because Antonio thought he had won.

But he had no idea—

This was only the beginning.

To be continued...