The first thing she noticed was the silence.
No gunshots. No screaming. No chaos.
The second thing—
She was in a bed.
Ramona's lashes fluttered as she stirred, the plush silk sheets beneath her a stark contrast to the cold, blood-stained floor of the casino she last remembered. Her body felt heavy, her head pounding as though she'd been drugged.
But she knew she hadn't been.
What happened?
Then it came back—
Him.
Those red eyes. That devilish smirk.
And then—darkness.
Her pulse spiked.
She wasn't in her apartment. She wasn't in the casino.
Where the hell was she?
She forced herself to stay still, focusing on her surroundings. Dim, ambient lighting. Black and gold accents. A high ceiling. A penthouse.
Her captor's penthouse.
Killian…
The name itself felt like venom on her tongue.
And then—she heard his voice.
"She's fine," a man—no, a doctor—said from beyond the door. "Still asleep."
Silence.
And then—
A low growl.
Deep. Possessive. Dangerous.
A shiver ran down her spine.
The door creaked open.
She forced herself to remain still, breathing carefully, her body relaxed against the bed, though her mind was anything but.
She felt him before she saw him.
The air changed. Thickened.
Then—
A deep inhale.
Like a predator savoring its prey.
He was smelling her.
Ramona bit the inside of her cheek.
What kind of monster does that?
And then—
Her leg twitched.
Silence.
Then a low, amused chuckle.
He knew.
She barely had time to react before—
A guttural growl ripped through the room.
Her body jerked to life. She sprang up, her heart hammering in her chest.
And there he was.
Killian stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes still red, his presence suffocating.
He was watching her, drinking in the fear that rolled off her like a fine perfume.
And then—
He smiled.
Not a kind smile. Not even a cruel one.
A smile that promised destruction.
Ramona backed up, hands balling into fists as she dropped into a Taekwondo stance.
Killian cocked his head, amused. "Is that supposed to do something?"
She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm not scared of you."
He chuckled—low, dark, spine-chilling.
And then he stepped forward.
Her body went rigid.
She was lying. She was so fucking scared.
"What do you want with me?" she spat. "What do you want with me, you fucking monster?"
Killian let out a laugh. Not the kind that came from amusement.
No.
The kind that could make even the devil tremble.
And it did.
Ramona's fingers curled tighter, her entire body burning with the instinct to run.
But she couldn't.
Not with him blocking her way.
Killian tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "You know," he mused, "for a human, you were quite lucky to get away that day."
She stilled.
"I always wondered what it would be like," he continued, "snapping your neck off your body."
A pause.
A slow smirk.
"Maybe even eating your heart. It's been a while since I've tasted one of those."
Her blood ran cold.
This wasn't just some psychotic mafia boss.
This was something else.
Something inhuman.
Her breath hitched.
"You… Who the hell are you?" she whispered.
Killian simply smiled.
"You're in the mafia," she continued, forcing strength into her voice. "You're a bad man, and I swear you will pay. I will make sure you pay for all your bad deeds. For all the people you've—"
A hand lifted.
Sharp. Deadly.
The silent command was enough to make her stop speaking.
Killian's voice was calm, controlled.
"Not killed," he corrected, his tone almost amused. "Corrected. I corrected their ways."
Ramona's breathing was heavy, her mind spinning.
"What kind of monster are you?"
Killian's gaze darkened.
"The one you should be scared of."
Silence.
Then—
"Where's my phone?" she demanded, voice shaking with rage. "Where the fuck is my phone?"
Killian smirked. "Oh, that?" He feigned thought, rubbing his jaw. "That's probably, I don't know… maybe down the toilet already."
Her heart dropped.
"No," she whispered.
"Oh, yes."
She snapped.
"How dare you?" she screamed. "That was all the evidence I had to—"
"To what?" Killian interrupted, stepping closer. "To put me in jail?"
His lips twitched.
And then—
He laughed.
A dark, menacing sound that made her stomach twist.
He leaned in, voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"Listen, Dove."
Her breath hitched.
Dove?
A name so soft, so possessive, yet dripping with malice.
"Jail is far from where I will be."
His fingers brushed against her cheek, and she flinched.
His eyes gleamed.
"But as for you…"
His voice was a promise.
A threat.
"You'll visit hell, tonight".