Erika

I woke with a strange sense of lightness, my body unusually refreshed. The thick carpet beneath me, far softer than any bed I’d known in recent days, had cradled me into an unexpected sleep. For a moment, stretching my limbs, I allowed myself that small comfort—until I felt it.

A gaze. Heavy, heated, clinging to me like an invisible hand.

I turned sharply. A man lounged on the couch across the room, watching me with a crooked smile that danced dangerously between charm and something more unsettling. His eyes swept over me from head to toe, brazen and unapologetic.

The prickling unease in my chest snapped into instinct. My fingers darted beneath the cushion until they brushed cool metal. The knife.

His hands flew up, palms out. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m gay, not into women that way. I was just… appreciating the view.” His grin widened, light but mischievous. “And you are stunning, darling. No need for knives. Here—this is for you.”

He slid a crisp white bag toward me, the kind with embossed lettering from an expensive designer store. Then he gestured toward the tiny bathroom. “Change over there. But please—don’t touch anything.”

Suspicion twisted in my stomach, but curiosity got the better of me. Inside the bag, folded with care, lay a simple knee-length dress in the softest shade of sky-blue—and a scattering of basic women’s essentials. Not mine. Not chosen by me. Someone else’s decision about who I should be.

I followed his direction, slipping away into the bathroom. The dress felt strange against my skin, both light and suffocating at once. I braided my hair with shaking fingers, forcing some semblance of control, and stepped out.

The room was empty. Daniel—the man—was gone. So was the other one from last night.

The silence was a gift.

Heart hammering in my chest, I crept toward the suite door. My hand hovered over the knob—salvation within reach—

Bang!

The bullet splintered the floor by my feet.

Bang!

A vase exploded between my legs, shards scattering across the carpet.

Bang!

The last round screamed past my ear, tearing into the door just inches ahead.

I froze. Every drop of blood drained from my face as a hollow, ringing silence followed. My body refused to move, rooted in raw, primal terror.

A deep chuckle broke the haze. His voice slithered over my skin, calm, unimpressed.

“I was told to shoot you if you tried to flee. But consider that… a warning.” A pause, deliberate. “Now, come sit. Eat. You’ll need your strength. We’ve got a long way to go.”

He slid the gun back into his waistband as if it were nothing more than a belt accessory. With a flick of his head, he beckoned me toward the dining table. And like a cornered animal too tired to fight, I obeyed.

“Oh, forgive me,” he said casually, pouring himself a glass of water. “I should introduce myself properly. I’m Daniel. Mr. King’s third-in-command.” His eyes glittered dangerously. “And from now on… you’re under my watch.”

The growl of hunger in my stomach betrayed me. I ate greedily—pasta, bread, an omelet—anything within reach. I didn’t know when I’d be fed again, so I devoured every bite.

Daniel smirked, watching. “You really do look radiant in that dress. Master told me to pick up whatever, but I pride myself on having a keen eye for a woman’s needs.” He winked.

I forced a thin smile, biting back the urge to roll my eyes. My silence did not dissuade him. He talked in lazy circles, playful, harmless on the surface—but the memory of bullets shattering inches from my skin kept me rigid and polite until the meal ended.

Hours later, I found myself shoved into the backseat of a car, the city blurring away behind us. Daniel drove without a word, humming occasionally, a predator strangely at ease in his cage. By the time we stopped, the horizon blazed with the sight of a colossal cruise ship.

It glimmered with extravagance, a floating palace made for luxury. My breath caught despite myself. For a moment, I forgot who I was—a prisoner, not a guest—until Daniel’s hand closed firmly on my arm and he dragged me aboard.

The cabin he locked me in was nothing like the glimmering halls of the ship. A single bed. Sparse furniture. A bathroom attached. No windows. No air. Just walls that pressed too tightly against me.

I turned the handle in vain. The door shut with a mechanical click that silenced even hope.

“Hey! Open the door! Please!” My fists slammed against the wood until my arms trembled. But no footsteps came. Daniel’s absence was total, smothering.

Three days bled together in hunger and exhaustion, the silence gnawing at me louder than my stomach.

When the door finally opened, Daniel stood there casually with a bag of food.
“Eat. Collect yourself. We’ve arrived.”

I glared at him, fury boiling under the weakness of my limbs, but I still tore the bag open. The first gulp of sweet juice spilled warmth through my veins, reviving me just enough to chew, swallow, breathe.

Outside the door, two guards waited. Their faces were blank masks as they motioned for me to follow.

I stumbled after them, merging into a silent procession of men and women who, like me, were herded off the ship. A crowd of unwilling travelers.

And then I saw it, towering against the dusky sunset.

A building the color of burning embers. Its shape like a hostel, commanding and cold, perched beside the white sands of the shore. Its beauty almost stole my breath—until my eyes caught the words painted across it in bold letters.

Training Center.

The fragile hope I had been nursing shattered. A fresh shiver twisted down my spine. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t sanctuary.

It was a trap?

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