Emma
I struggled to pull my hand free, but his grip was iron. Pain shot up my wrist as I yanked, but it was useless. Panic clawed at my chest.
"You'll find out soon enough." His voice was low, a warning.
My heart hammered in my chest. What had I gotten myself into?
He ignored me, speaking to the lawyers in black suits. His tone shifted, cold and businesslike.
"Please... let me go," I whispered, my throat dry. My voice felt swallowed by the weight of the room.
His eyes flicked to mine—cold and hard. "Sit still."
Fear shot through me as his grip tightened. My legs shook, hands slick with sweat. I glanced around, looking for an escape, but the walls felt like they were closing in.
The lawyer's words blurred in my ears. My mind raced, drowning in dread.
Then something slid across the table—a sheet of paper. I saw the words "Marriage Certificate" through the fog in my head. My stomach dropped.
This couldn't be happening.
"No, I can't do this," I whispered, shaking my head.
His fingers dug deeper into my wrist. "You don't have a choice."
I stared at the paper, my pulse pounding in my ears. This was real.
"You want me to sign this?" I croaked.
"Yes," he replied, the word hanging heavy in the air.
I searched his face for mercy, but there was none.
"Why me?" I demanded, shaky but defiant. "Why do you want me?"
A smirk tugged at his lips, dark and cruel. "Because you belong to me."
The words hit me like a slap. I couldn't breathe. "No... No, I don't."
His eyes hardened. "You do. Now sign."
"Please," I begged, desperation creeping into my voice. "Let me go."
He tilted his head, eyes sharpening. "Shout for help, and see how far it gets you."
Fear iced my veins. I tried to move, to stand, but his hold was unbreakable.
"I'll scream," I whispered, trembling.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ears. "No one will hear you."
A chill ran down my spine. I was trapped.
He shoved a glass of water in front of me, spilling it over the edge. "Drink."
I hesitated. The coldness in his eyes dared me not to refuse.
My hands shook as I took the glass, the cool liquid sliding down my throat, but it didn't calm me. It only made the silence feel heavier.
When I handed it back, he wiped his thumb across my mouth, and I recoiled. His touch sent chills through me.
"Sit still," he ordered, his voice low.
I didn't know who he was, what he wanted, or why we were here. The fear gnawed at me as I glanced at the cold, gray walls. The paper between us felt like a sentence.
"Sign it," he commanded.
I stared at the page, stomach twisting. His gaze never left me.
"I won't sign," I said, my voice trembling but firm.
His grip tightened. "You will."
I glanced at the paper again. Marriage. The weight of it made me sick.
"Why?" I whispered, eyes locked on his. "Why me?"
His jaw clenched. "Because I said so."
The words hit me like a slap. Panic surged in my chest.
"Please," I begged again, voice breaking. "Let me go."
His eyes were unreadable and cold. "Shout all you want. No one will hear you."
The room spun. The walls felt too close. The silence was suffocating.
He leaned in, his breath hot against my skin. "Sign. Now."
I gripped the table, mind racing for an escape. But there was none. Not anymore.
A dark gleam flashed in his eyes. "You'll regret it if you don't."
A knife appeared, gleaming sharply in his hand. I didn't even see him reach for it.
The blade ran slowly across my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. "Let's just say you don't want to find out what happens if you refuse." His cold smile sent a tremor through me. "The choice is yours."
My breath hitched, my hands trembling uncontrollably. The air felt thick, suffocating, and his unblinking, icy gaze was locked onto me, drilling through me.
"What do you want from me?" I whispered, barely able to form the words.
A smirk twisted his lips, but it didn't reach his dark eyes. He picked up a knife from the fruit bowl, running his fingers over the handle with unsettling familiarity. "Let's just say it won't be pretty," he replied, his voice low and dripping with malice.
The blade gleamed, and dread seized my stomach. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my legs refused to move.
His eyes never wavered, cold and calculating. "Be ready to face the consequences of your actions," he warned, his words laced with menace.
My heart thundered, pumping fear through my veins. I tried to move, but my body was frozen under the weight of his presence.
In a flash, his grip tightened around my wrist, yanking my hand onto the table. The knife gleamed, its edge as sharp as the danger hanging in the air.
"Let's play a game," he murmured, leaning closer. The scent of his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of fear. "I'll close my eyes, poke the knife between your fingers. If I hit one, you lose. If I miss, you still lose, but at least you keep your fingers. Your choice."
My pulse roared in my ears. Each second stretched like an eternity.
His eyes closed, that smirk still on his face. The knife hovered above my fingers, a razor-sharp threat. The tension was thick, crackling. I couldn't move.
The blade scraped my skin, sending a shock of pain through me. I gasped, blood welling up as my heart raced.
"1… 2… 3…" His voice was steady, the knife slicing between my fingers with calculated precision.
I squeezed my eyes shut, terror clawing at my chest. Another graze of the blade, sharper this time. I flinched.
"Please… stop," I pleaded, my voice shaking.
His smirk deepened. "Sign the papers, then," he said, his eyes still shut, the knife never stopping.
Tears blurred my vision. "I can't… I won't…"
"Tell me, Emma," he said, eyes opening but fixed on mine, "Will you sign the papers willingly, or do I have to make you?"
I fought to steady my voice, but it cracked. "I won't sign them."
His eyes remained cold, unwavering. "We'll see about that."
Without warning, the blade sliced across my finger, a hot burst of pain. I gasped as blood pooled in my palm.
The pain wasn't the worst of it. It was the fear, the helplessness, the realization that there was no escape.
"I'm begging you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Just… let me go."
He didn't answer. His hand tightened painfully on my wrist, pulling me closer until his breath brushed my ear. "You should have agreed when I gave you the chance."
I shuddered as the cold blade pressed against my cheek. I flinched, the sharp edge tracing a thin line of blood down my skin.
"Your pain makes you more beautiful," he murmured, his voice dark, sinful. The heat of his breath sent a shiver down my spine, at odds with the icy fear settling in my chest.
His gaze remained locked on mine, that sickening smile still in place. "You'll sign the papers. It's only a matter of when."
His thumb slid across my lip, smearing blood on it. My stomach churned at the intimacy of it. "I won't let you take pleasure in my suffering," I spat, my voice hoarse but defiant.
His grin grew wider, more twisted. "Oh, I'll make you beg for it."
The walls of the room seemed to close in around me, the air growing thick and suffocating. I wanted to escape, to run, but there was nowhere to go.
His grip was ironclad, and as he leaned in closer, his lips brushed my ear, his words a knife to my soul. "You're mine now, Emma. Your future, your freedom—they're gone. Your fate is sealed."
I tried to pull away, but his hold was unbreakable. His eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction. There was no escape. Not now.
"You say I'm the devil," he murmured, his voice low and cold, "but you're blood-bound to me now. There's no escape."
His words cut deep, chaining me to him, dragging me further into despair.
But I couldn't let him break me. Not yet. Not ever.