#DS7Unbalanced #InoCent #SMCouple #DaggerSeries

CHAPTER ONE: CAPTIVE

TIARA'S POV

Ice bath and sleep. Two things that I've been looking forward to before I even finished my performance here in Moscow. Things that all I can think about even when they announced me to be the recipient of the first prize and gold medal.

The last thing I wanted was to be strapped into the passenger seat of a speeding car with bullets raining outside.

"Fuck!"

I looked at my kidnapper when I heard him curse. He looks panicked. Who wouldn't at this point? What does he expect? He kidnapped a woman during a prestigious event. He should have waited for me backstage, but instead, he snatched me off the stage after I put one foot on the platform to receive my award.

There were a lot of witnesses, and it was a surprise that he accomplished getting me out of the ballet theatre without a problem.

The thought made me angry. Their security sucks.

Another curse word fell from the man's lips when our car swerved when another hit it from behind. His attention is so focused on the road and how to evade the vehicle pursuing us that I could have opened the door and jumped out.

Which will probably break a lot of my bones. My body is everything to me. I couldn't risk any lasting damage to it, or my career would be over.

But is it really that bad? Maybe if I can't dance anymore, I can finally take a breath. I shook my head. I shouldn't think that way. Kung buhay pa ang babusya ko ay siguardong papagalitan niya ako. My grandmother had always been proud of me for doing ballet. She doesn't care if I win or not. She always told me that it was because whenever I dance, she could see how I'm full of light and love.

I have always loved dancing. I love ballet. It's just that I hate the things that sometimes make me want to stop doing it.

"This is fucked up!"

I sighed exasperatedly. "It is. Starting from when you kidnapped me."

He gave me a quick look, but his attention reverted back to the road. He managed to put a distance between us and the car following us that made me think that he's somehow knowledgeable about high-speed chases. What do I know? Maybe some people do this for a living. He clearly does.

Another gunshot sounded followed by a ping when it hit the surface of the car, which is obviously bulletproof, because if it's not, we're both probably ridden by bullets right now. Something that is making my temper flare more than the thought of being kidnapped. Because if the ones pursuing us were sent by the security team of the event then they really do suck.

It wasn't long before the gap between us and the car behind us widened until we finally lost it. So is my hope that I'll be saved.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with admiring someone. I've known people who used to follow my shows no matter what country I was performing in. That doesn't make them stalkers. That just makes them loyal fans."

I even have a fan that attempted to give me a house. I've encountered different kinds of people that admire me but this is the first time that this happened to me.

"I don't know if you live here, but you obviously have money," I said, continuing my monologue that seemed to fall on deaf ears. "You probably spend a lot to watch me perform, but that doesn't mean that I'm your property and that you can just take me whenever you want."

Again, he didn't say anything. He just concentrated on driving. Which is good, and I should probably let him focus. I don't want us to end up in a pretzel when he accidentally crashes us into some tree or something.

"You probably have this idea in your head when it comes to me, but I'm telling you, I'm not exactly fun to be around. I'm the most boring person I know. My life is dancing, so it's probably better if you just let me go, so I could do just that."

When he still stayed quiet, my grip on the seat belt tightened. It was a shot in the dark. I know there's a low chance that he will let me go. Someone crazy enough to abduct a woman in front of thousands of people wouldn't be that gracious.

I eyed the white classic tutu dress that I'm wearing. It's my costume for my Dying Swan performance. What an apt name for my current situation.

The car screeches into a stop when we enter what looks like a private airfield. From a distance, I could see what looked like a jet waiting for us.

I knew he wasn't the typical kidnapper. Ordinary kidnappers don't have a private jet. I mean, he doesn't look like what I expect a criminal to be. Can a kidnapper look this good? But what do I know? There's no exemption to being crazy, and this man probably has a lot of loose screws.

"You look American. If you're planning to take me to America, I'm warning you now, I'm going to make it the most unbearable eleven hours of your life."

Unless we're not going to America and he's going to dump me into some desert. Dread instantly filled me. What if he's just working for someone? What if some oil magnate took a liking to me when I had a performance in Middle East last year and he decided to hire someone to abduct me? That would explain the jet.

"I don't know how much you have been paid, but I can probably give you the same amount. Or maybe more." That's not exactly true. I have money, but I doubt I can compete with a rich, sick bastard. "In installment."

The man just exited the vehicle without saying anything. He rounded the car and opened the door for me. I would have resisted and stayed seated, but as if he could predict what I was going to do, he leaned down and unbuckled me himself so that he could help me out.

He closed the door and let me go instantly. Maybe his employer threatened him that his hands would be cut off if he touched me.

Standing there in the cold, he went to the trunk of the car. I hugged myself as I looked up at the dark night sky. I closed my eyes when I felt snow touching my face. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe I'm going to be one of a sheikh's wives. He'll soon forget me, and I get to live my life spending his money while lazing around. That's not so bad. I should demand a dance studio when I talk to him.

Despite my attempts to calm myself, I can't hide from the truth. Vile rose up my throat at the thought of what would happen to me.

I was starting to shiver from the combination of fear and cold when I felt something land on my shoulders. The man was back, holding a thick black material. He could have let me stay in the car so I wouldn't be standing in the cold, but I guess he was afraid that I would try to drive off. Not that I know how to drive. Which he doesn't know.

He looked down at my feet, and his eyebrows furrowed while he eyed my shoes.

"You know that Russia has an air defense, don't you?" I asked him.

"We have their permission."

Definitely a sheikh. "You don't have to do this."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I'll explain everything to you later. For now, we really need to go."

I held his eyes for a minute, but he looked away. Holding a bag in one hand, he pulled me in front of him, his huge body towering over me as he guided me forward.

It's exactly the reason why I didn't run when he went to get something from the trunk awhile ago. I know that no matter what I do, he will be able to catch me. I didn't want to risk changing his treatment of me. He hasn't hurt me, but that could change if I try to escape.

My kidnapper made me sit once we were inside the jet, and then he moved away to talk to the male flight attendant that greeted us. I notice that he's holding a familiar passport holder. So he took my things backstage before he abducted me.

The kidnapper wasn't away for long. When he returned, he bent down to strap me into my seat before taking the one in front of me.

I braced myself when the jet started to take off. This is really happening. I'm really going to be a captive in some isolated desert.

When the aircraft was flying in a stable position, the male flight attendant approached us with a tray. The kidnapper took it from him and put it on the empty seat beside him. He unbuckled his seat belt, and he proceeded to do it on mine as well. He pulled the material he placed on my shoulder awhile ago, which I realized was a hoodie.

I didn't protest when he gave it to me, as if telling me to wear it. I was cold, so I have no plans to complain. However, when I felt his hand on my feet, I let out a gasp and flinched away from his touch.

He sighed, and he took what seemed to be an ice pack from the tray. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Yeah. You probably wouldn't," I agreed, my tone sharp. "Your employer will just do sick things with me because he's obsessed with me. Maybe he's going to put me in a box and make me twirl like a living and breathing version of a ballerina on top of a music box."

"Have someone told you that you have a hyperactive imagination?"

I just gave him a death glare, which appears to have just bounced off him harmlessly because he didn't look bothered by it. He proceeded to take off my pointe shoes, and I stopped myself from flinching again. Instead, I sat there, my body tight with tension.

He applied the ice pack to my feet quietly. When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. "What am I going to do with you?"

I blinked at his question. "Why are you asking me? You're the kidnapper. Sir, for a criminal, you're very unprepared."

"Don't call me that."

"What do you expect me to call you? You're a crim—"

"I'm not a criminal," he said without looking up. "But that's not what I'm talking about."

"So what then? You're a kidnapper, so I doubt that's what you mean." I raise an eyebrow at him. "Is it the "sir" then?"

He just let out a "hmm" and didn't say more.

"Why not?" I pressed.

He met my eyes. "Because I like it."

It took me a second to understand the meaning of his answer. "Bozhe miy!" I exclaimed under my breath. Babusya, my grandmother, told me to never say the Lord's name in vain, but I couldn't help it. "You're a pervert!"

He leaned on the chair and massaged his temple. How does he expect me to react? He just told me that he likes being called "sir". I doubt that's just his preference for being regarded with authority.

"I am not going to hurt you."

"See how you didn't even deny that you're a pervert?" I snarled.

He held my gaze, and I wanted to look away. I don't want to acknowledge that he has beautiful eyes. I don't want to acknowledge a lot of things that I noticed the moment I saw his face when he snatched me off the stage. Because if I did, that would make me as sick as him.

"That's because I'm a lot of things, Tiara Millicent," he murmured softly. "Pero hindi kita sasaktan. I'll cut my own arm before I do that." He let out a sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you. I wasn't planning to approach you, but I was left with no choice."

My mouth dropped open. He could speak Tagalog!

My mother is Ukrainian. She's pure blood, and she loved making it known. She was an orphan, and she was adopted when she was eleven by a Filipina who was married to a Ukrainian-Italian man who lives in Ukraine because of his metallurgy business.

I grew up knowing different cultures. My didus, my grandfather, might be only half Italian, but he shared a lot about his Italian heritage to me. The same goes for babusya who taught me a lot about her motherland that she missed terribly. She's the person who taught me how to understand and speak Tagalog, which is something my mother didn't want me to learn.

I know Ukrainian and English the best because it's the language I use outside and inside the home. I speak good Filipino because that's how I talk with my grandmother. I love having our secret language, and I love how it makes her happy that I talk to her in Filipino. My Italian and French are okay. The latter I only learned because of ballet.

"You can speak..." I shook my head to clear it. "That's not important. I don't care if you can speak Greek, Latin, or the Martian language. How can you say that you wouldn't hurt me? Even if you don't, how can you assure me that your employer won't? That I wouldn't end up in a desert?"

"Sweet doll, you really do have a wild imagination." He let out a heavy sigh. "No one has hired me."

"So you're really an obsessed fan?" Niyakap ko ang sarili ko. Despite the hoodie, the cold still seeped through my skin.

"You said it yourself, there's nothing wrong with admiring you. That doesn't make me a stalker. Just a loyal fan."

My eyes bugged out at his words. "A loyal fan wouldn't kidnap me!"

"I didn't kidnap you."

"I certainly didn't come with you because I wanted to!" I tightened my arms around my body when I started shivering. This is bad. Like really bad. I don't care if he's hot. I don't care if he has a face that looks like it has been sculpted by masterful hands. If he does the things that are inevitable to happen, he's still a monster. "You..."

"Tiara—"

"Don't call me that! You don't have the right to call me anything!"

Umangat ang kamay niya na para bang hahawakan ako. When he saw me tremble, his jaw tightened, and he pulled his hand back. "I'm not going to do anything to you, doll. I understand why you're afraid. Naiintindihan ko kung hindi ka maniniwala sa akin agad. But I have no intention of hurting you. I am not that kind of person."

"But—"

"I wasn't planning on approaching you. I was there just for the show. As of now, I can't tell you much. I acted on impulse. You were in danger."

"I don't understand," I whispered.

"I wasn't the danger. I was the one that saved you from it."

I racked my brain with all that happened. From the car chase to the awarding. The only thing that made sense was that I was kidnapped, and the event's security was in pursuit so that they could save me.

Except if it wasn't them that was following us.

"No harm will come to you. I'll make sure of it. I'm not planning to hold you captive for any sick reason. I don't have plans to deliver you to some make-believe employer."

I swallowed, exhaustion starting to engulf my entirety. "Who are you? Where are you taking me?"

"I'm Domino Dawson, and I'm taking you somewhere safe."

"W-Where?"

"Home."