HAZEL

This isn't happening. I'm not going to become a victim to a greedy, evil plan made up by two idiots.

You wanted to leave the estate, didn't you, Hazel? You wanted freedom. Well, here it is. You're outside, away from the boring halls you've walked a thousand times. So thrive.

I keep my breath steady and feign sleep. The closet door opens and one of my kidnappers peers in, gripping my chin and twisting my face aside. I don't twitch a muscle.

I can do this. If I can handle a mysterious, unpredictable Lord like Ronan, then I can handle these men. I've been a maid all my life. I had my daily schedule planned my superiors. I had my uniform selected for me and wore it for years. I had rules drilled into my head. I was like a sheep, devoid of choices. But helpless? Never.

"She's still knocked out cold. How hard did you hit her?"

"Hard enough that her kid might come out with a few loose screws. Just give her a few more hours to wake up."

"You're a fucking idiot. How could you damage the property so easily?"

Property?

I make a mental note to set my erotic book aside and pick up one about assault to learn what's the best way to hurt a man. To punish evil ones like these.

"Come here. Let's eat."

The closet door shuts, and I'm once again submerged in darkness. I slowly reach out around me, careful not to knock anything over. I learn my surroundings. The closet is small. A few clothes dangle above me, but that's not what interests me. It's the gallons lined by the wall.

I pick one up and unscrew the lid, taking a small whiff before recoiling. It's a bottle of bleach, pungent.

I grin. I'm surrounded by perfect weapons. Mops, brooms, and gallons of chemicals that I've mixed and experimented with in all my years as a maid. I'm in my element.

I unscrew a few of the bottles and recognize the contents immediately. Ammonia and drain cleaner. I stop sniffing around to avoid getting light-headed by the chemicals. I think I've got what I need.

Bleach and ammonia would be a dangerous mix. The chloramine gas they create is toxic. This a lesson that I was taught long ago when I tried to mix them for a more effective cleaning solution. I was scolded for weeks.

The problem is that in this confined space, I can't inhale the fumes. While the plastic container will be unaffected by the mixing of the chemicals, it will still cause a fizzling sound that might alert my captors. I would have to catch them off guard while holding my breath. It won't be easy, given that my hands are tied. But I'm going to get it done. I won't sit and wait to be rescued. Waiting didn't get me past the wall and out into the world. My conviction did.

These bastards ripped me from Ronan's warm, strong arms. Interrupted our

intimate, pleasurable, mind blowing sex, and then they put a bullet in my man. They will pay dearly.

I take a deep breath and count how long I can hold my inhale. It takes a while. When I bathed at home, I often submerged myself in the tub as I imagined myself elsewhere. In my ritual to escape the estate, I trained my lungs to hold my breath for long periods of time. According to my counting, I can hold it for a minute and ten seconds. Enough time to pour the bleach and ammonia together, barge out of the closet, douse my captors with the mixture, and throw myself out the door.

This has to work.

I test my constraints. The rope is bound tight, and not even the gnawing of my teeth loosens it. I can't waste time trying to untie the knots. The men will only leave me alone for another hour or two before they check on me again. I must catch them off guard and attack first.

None of this will work if the closet door is locked, but I swear I didn't hear a lock click. It must be unopened.

I can't mix the chemicals without being sure that the door is unlocked. I need to test the doorknob.

— —

RONAN

Every passing hour rips a layer of my skin off. Painfully, slowly, mercilessly. Soon I'll be nothing but bones.

I'm miserable.

I left the estate with a dozen of my best guards, leaving the estate vulnerable to invaders. Walker was left in charge. I trust him to keep everyone safe. But as important as the estate is, Hazel is my priority. I must find her.

I went to the town and ruffled a gangster for information. I bribed prostitutes and bar owners. Everyone swears that they haven't seen or heard of any shifts in the crime world. Kidnappings are common in this day and age, but whenever there's a big catch like Hazel, rumors are bound to leak.

Confident that she's not in town, I hop in one of my SUVs and ride into the next town with my men in tow. We head to Fort Beyau, known for its huge power plant that fuels the nearby towns. There are many thugs and pimps there. Someone must have heard something by now.

I flinch when the car dips into a hole on the destroyed road and the motion pulls at my injury. I slapped plenty of bandages on the gunshot wound and took a shot of morphine, but there's still a gaping hole in me that needs to heal.

I need to find her at all costs, even if I bleed out. I'll rest when she's home.

The ride to Fort Beyau takes an hour. The roads are severely damaged, full of holes. There aren't many cars around since it's hard to access gasoline nowadays.

As soon as we arrive, my men and I separate. I send them to check the sheriff's office, clinic, and the town saloon. I send them everywhere.

I walk to the home of the richest man in town. The owner of the power plant, Oliver. A man with a deep, rumbling laugh and a permanent smirk. Eyes that stare unashamedly. The few times I met him for business were unpleasant.

My hoodie and figure reveal my identity. I'm led straight to his living room by his servant, and offered a drink that I turn down.

"I need Oliver. Now."

I wait for two minutes before I hear the bastard's laugh echo through his home as he walks down the staircase.

"Lord Ronan. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I stand from the couch and face him. "I'm looking for a girl. Kidnapped last night from my estate."

"Hmm... do you need medical attention?"

I grit my teeth. How the fuck does he know about my injury?

"You're not standing as tall today. You never slouch. That's how I know."

"I don't need anything but answers. Tell me what you know, and I'll pay you like I always do."

"I'm afraid I haven't heard anything."

Fuck! He must be telling the truth. The bastard never turns down an opportunity.

"Are you sure? Think hard, Oliver. If you're lying, you'll be in debted to death. And I'll make sure you pay."

"I have no business with anyone from your estate, Lord Ronan. No use for a girl under your jurisdiction. But I will be sure to call for you if anything rises."

I stand from the couch quickly, my injury pulling. I feel blood warming my clothes as I storm out and step back onto the street. I growl at a man that bumps into me. He blurts his apologies and scurries off.

There's too many people in this town. Too many sources to comb through. It will take days before I clear it and be able to move onto the next town.

But there's no other option. I have no home to return to if Hazel is not there.

I rip my hoodie off my head, revealing my scarred face to horrified onlookers. I don't give a fuck. I look around, searching for my love. For her short stature, brown eyes and hair. And her soft, perfect smile.

"Where are you?"