A girl sprinted down the dimly lit corridor of a random hotel, her heart pounding as footsteps echoed behind her. A group of men was chasing her. The cold air brushed against her skin as she darted past door after door, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She couldn't stop now—not when she was this close to getting away.
Her eyes darted around frantically, searching for a place to hide. Just then, she spotted an open door. Without thinking, she rushed inside and pushed the door shut behind her. Her back hit the smooth wood as she pressed herself against it, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. She barely took a second to take in her surroundings before her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor. Her hands trembled slightly as she curled them into fists. Safe. For now.
Just then, the bathroom door swung open with a soft creak, and a young man stepped out, running a towel through his damp hair. His toned frame was only half-covered by his partially unbuttoned shirt, and his expression was one of pure confusion.
His gaze landed on her, and he immediately froze.
"Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?" he demanded, his voice sharp and alert.
The girl slowly got up, brushing imaginary dust off her clothes as she let out a disappointed sigh. "I'm a cat."
The boy blinked. "Oh? And what's the cat's name?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Why should I tell you?" she shot back, lifting her chin stubbornly.
"Excuse me, but this is my room," he pointed out, his tone laced with irritation. "If you won't tell me, then feel free to leave."
Before she could respond, a voice boomed from outside.
"Quickly! Find her and kill her!"
Her heart stopped. The words sent a chill down her spine, and for a moment, she felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.
The boy's eyes flickered toward the door, then back to her. He hadn't missed the way she stiffened.
With a reluctant sigh, she muttered, "Fine. My name is Calista. And I need your help."
He sat down on the bed, studying her with mild interest. "How?"
"Let me stay here for a while."
"Why?"
She hesitated. "I can't tell you that."
His gaze darkened slightly. Suspicion hung in the air between them, but after a pause, his lips curled into a smirk. "Okay, you can stay. But on one condition."
Her eyes narrowed. "What?"
"You have to do whatever I say."
Calista let out a breath. "Okay—" She agreed too quickly and then immediately regretted it, biting her tongue.
The boy chuckled, clearly entertained by her reaction. Without another word, he got up and strolled toward the bedside drawer. She watched as he pulled it open and retrieved something small and metallic. When he turned back to her, a pair of silver handcuffs dangled from his fingers.
"Why don't you take off your coat?" he said casually.
Calista's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Relax. I'm not like the men chasing you."
Her lips parted as if to argue, but she stopped herself. Something about his demeanor—calm, almost playful—made her hesitate. She studied his face, searching for any sign of malice.
Nothing.
"It's not like that," she muttered, finally removing her coat. "I'm trusting you."
His smirk deepened. "Glad to hear that."
He took a step closer. Then another.
The air between them grew heavy. Calista instinctively moved backward, her pulse quickening. She wasn't afraid of him—no, he didn't seem dangerous. But something about his confident, unreadable expression unsettled her.
Then, before she could react, the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and she lost her balance. She tumbled backward, landing with a small gasp.
In a swift motion, he leaned down and clicked one of the handcuffs onto her wrist, securing it to the bedpost.
Her eyes widened. "What the—? What is this?!"
He stretched lazily and lay down beside her, completely unbothered. "I'm glad you trust me," he said, resting his hands behind his head. "But I don't trust you. What if you sneak out in the morning without saying thank you… Kitty?"
Her jaw clenched. "What the—" She barely stopped herself from saying anything wrong.
His smirk returned. "Good night, Kitty." He shut his eyes as if the conversation was already over.
Calista stared at him in disbelief. Did he just… Did he seriously just handcuff her and then decide to sleep?
She exhaled sharply, glaring at the ceiling.
"I know I'm handsome," he murmured, voice laced with amusement, "but stop staring and get some sleep. It's late, Kitty."
Her lips parted in shock.