Clara's breath hitched as Moriarti approached, his gaze cold and calculating. The notorious rival of Benjamin stood before her, exuding danger with every step.
"Such a delicate flower," Moriarti mused, circling her like a predator stalking its prey. "I can see why Benjamin is so... enamored."
Clara squared her shoulders, refusing to show fear. "What do you want from me?"
"Straight to the point. I like that," Moriarti said, smirking. "You, my dear, are leverage. The only person who can make the great Benjamin Scott vulnerable. That makes you invaluable to me."
Clara's stomach churned. She'd never felt like a pawn until now.
"You're making a mistake," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Benjamin won't let this slide."
Moriarti chuckled, his laugh cold and devoid of humor. "I'm counting on that. This is about more than just you, Clara. It's about power. Control. Benjamin has gotten too comfortable ruling from his throne, and I'm here to topple it."
Before she could respond, the door opened, and two of Moriarti's men entered, their expressions stoic.
"Take her to the safe room," Moriarti ordered. "Make sure she's comfortable... for now."
The men advanced toward Clara, and despite her instincts screaming at her to run, she knew there was no escape. Reluctantly, she allowed them to lead her down another dimly lit corridor.
The safe room was anything but inviting. It was small, with a single bed, a desk, and a locked door. The air was stale, and the faint hum of surveillance cameras filled the silence.
"You'll be staying here until your boyfriend comes to his senses," one of the men sneered before slamming the door shut.
Clara sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing. She had no idea how long she would be here or what Moriarti's next move would be. But one thing was clear: Benjamin wouldn't rest until she was safe.
As the hours dragged on, Clara resolved to stay strong. If Benjamin was as determined and ruthless as she believed, Moriarti had no idea what he was up against.