C2 Chapter 2: Abduction

For almost a week, I couldn't shake off what happened in the bathroom—or that bizarre conversation with Hunter. It clung to me like an itch I couldn't reach. And what was worse? Since then, I'd catch him watching me. Not the fleeting glances people share—no. This was intense. Constant. Like I was a book he was reading cover to cover.

Sometimes, when I caught him, he wouldn't look away. Blank face, cool as ever. Other times? He smirked—smirked—like he knew something I didn't. Like I was the punchline of some private joke. Creepy much?

Today was no different. His gaze lingered across the courtyard, burning a hole into my side. I tried to ignore it, busying myself with my phone. Not looking, not looking—stop looking, Dimaria—

"Are you okay?" My head snapped toward the voice. Meast. Just like that, Hunter dissolved from my mind. Meast slid onto the bench beside me, his presence effortless and oddly comforting. My eyes instinctively scanned the area. Where's Damon? Or his special someone?

Meast chuckled, catching on. "Damon's not here. He's finishing something."

"Oh." Great. Alone with Meast... Don't be weird, Dimaria. Play it cool.

A beat of silence stretched between us before I smirked, unable to resist teasing. "Why aren't you grumpy with me today? Do you... have a crush on me?"

I expected a scoff or an eye roll—but instead, he laughed. A warm, genuine sound that sent butterflies loose in my stomach. Then, as if sealing my fate, he reached out and ruffled my hair like I was some kid.

"I have a sister—you two aren't alike—but since you're Damon's sister..." He grinned. "I kind of see you as one too."

Ouch. Not just the friend zone—the sister zone. That was like falling down a pit with no bottom.

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't want to be your sister—it doesn't suit you. I'd rather be your girlfr—"

My mouth snapped shut. Oh no. No, no, no. Did I just say that?! My hand flew up, covering my lips, but it was too late. The words hung in the air like a neon sign flashing "EMBARRASSMENT."

Heat flooded my face. Dimaria, you absolute train wreck—

Peeking at Meast, I braced for awkwardness—but found him smiling. Not mocking. Not uncomfortable. Just... amused. He shook his head with a soft chuckle that felt like a pat on the head and a rejection wrapped into one.

Kill me now.

Please.

Someone? Anyone?

"I don't want to hurt you, Dimaria. I'm sincere when I say you're like a sister to me."

Rejected. The word echoed in my head, sharp and unforgiving. No! No, I haven't accepted it yet. I clenched my fists beneath the table, nails digging into my palm, masking the turmoil with a smile that barely held.

"It's fine," I said, voice lighter than I felt. "I'm lucky, anyway. While countless girls practically throw themselves at you, doing everything to get noticed... here I am, effortlessly able to talk and hang out with you." God, that hurt. But I wasn't giving up. Not yet.

The student park bustled around us, laughter and idle chatter filling the afternoon air. I focused on my laptop, working on my PowerPoint presentation for tomorrow, but my gaze kept drifting to him. His pencil glided across the sketchpad, precise and effortless. Damn it. Why did he have to be so good at everything?

Time slipped away faster than I wanted. "I have class," he said, gathering his things.

"Right... good luck," I mumbled, watching him walk off, the distance between us growing with every step. I hated how empty it felt when he left.

With a sigh, I stretched my arms and neck, trying to shake off the heaviness settling over me. That's when I felt it—a gaze. Burning. Unyielding. I turned, and there they were: sterling gray eyes locked on mine. Hunter Martinez.

My pulse spiked. Why does he always stare like that? I quickly looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, pretending to focus on my screen. But even without looking, I could feel it—his gaze, heavy as chains, dragging out memories I tried to bury.

Finishing my report felt like an eternity. Shoving my things into my bag, I decided to head to the coffee shop across the street. Better to wait for my brother there than rot in this park. At least coffee offered comfort.

I had barely stepped out of campus when a hand clamped around my arm, yanking me back. My breath hitched. "W-What are you—" I turned, heart dropping to my stomach. Hunter.

Panic clawed up my throat. "Where are you taking me? Let go!" I struggled, but his grip tightened, bruising.

"Quiet," he hissed. "Don't make a scene."

Fear churned in my gut. The campus wasn't empty, but no one was close enough to notice. His calmness was more terrifying than if he'd shouted.

"Hunter—" My protest died when something cold pressed against my waist.

No. No, no, no.

My gaze darted down. A gun.

Oh my god. My legs turned to jelly. Tears pricked my eyes, panic screaming in my head, but my body betrayed me, stiff with shock. He guided me toward a car, steps deliberate. No one looked. No one noticed.

I should scream. I should fight.

But the gun.

Inside the car, the door shut with a thud that reverberated through my chest, sealing me in with a finality that stole the air from my lungs. Panic clawed at my throat, thick and suffocating. I sat rigid, every muscle coiled tight, breaths shallow and uneven. My heart pounded—a relentless drumbeat that echoed in my ears, each thump sharp enough to hurt.

He leaned over. The warmth of his proximity sent a shiver down my spine, and instinctively, I flinched, recoiling from the space he invaded. His scent—clean and vaguely familiar—wrapped around me, twisting my stomach into knots I couldn't untangle. His fingers brushed against me as he reached for the seatbelt, his touch sparking a riot of nerves beneath my skin. Why was I trembling? Was it fear? Fury? Or something far more dangerous?

The seatbelt clicked into place. Safe? No—anything but.

Then came the cold press of metal against my wrist. My pulse spiked as I stared at the cuff in his hand, horror blooming like wildfire. No, no, no— My breath caught, panic surging anew as the cuff encircled my wrist. My mind raced for an escape, but my body betrayed me, frozen in place.

"I h-hate you..." The words slipped out, a fragile whisper. His jaw tightened.

"Hate me all you want, Divecca. Just don't push me. Don't test my patience. Divecca. Hearing my name in that voice made me shiver. Why me? What did I do?

My fingers inched toward my bag, fumbling for my phone. Call Damon. Call anyone. Please, God—He noticed. Effortlessly, he snatched the bag and tossed it to the back seat.

"Really?" His voice was a blade. "You want to test how thin this thread is?"

"What do you want?!" My voice cracked, desperation pouring out. "Why are you doing this? I don't even know you! I've never done anything to you—why me?" Tears blurred my vision, hot and relentless. His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. No answer.

"Is this some sick joke? Are you mad at my brother? Is this revenge? Or is it because I bumped into you that one time? I said I was sorry! What do you want from me?!" My voice rose with each word, fear and frustration spiraling. Why?!

His silence was worse than yelling. Worse than threats.

"Oh," I laughed bitterly, hysteria creeping in, "so that's it? Jealous of someone else's success? Pathetic—"

"Shut the fuck up!" His roar cracked through the air. The steering wheel slammed under his fists. I flinched, body curling in on itself. Tears spilled over, chest heaving with sobs I couldn't swallow down anymore.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

But it was. The fury in his voice wasn't petty. It was deep. Old. Dangerous.

God, what did I get myself into?

Minutes dragged. Hours. I didn't know. Fear stretched time. My throat ached from holding back cries, hands shaking as I wiped at useless tears. From the corner of my eye, I saw him exhale harshly, fingers raking through his hair, tension radiating off him like heat.

The car stopped. My heart did too.

A house. Secluded. No neighbors in sight. The world outside looked darker here, suffocating. The kind of darkness that swallows people whole.

I used to find comfort in the dark.

Not this one.

This darkness reeked of danger.

"Get out," he ordered in a tone that left no room for argument. I quickly obeyed, but I wasn't even fully out of the car before he yanked me by the arm. He grabbed my bag—my phone still inside—and dragged me toward the house. My knees were shaking, nearly giving out, and I stumbled after him.

"W-Why did you bring me here? W-What did I do to you?" I stammered, my mind racing. I've only been in college for two weeks. I don't even know this guy. What grudge could he possibly hold against me?

He threw me onto a couch, sliding his gun into the waistband at his back. In front of me, he pulled off his uniform top, leaving a plain white undershirt clinging to his frame. His gaze—cold and unreadable—met mine before he walked over to a table and threw a black folder onto it.

"W-What is that?" My voice shook.

"The thing that'll decide your fate. Sign it, and you live. Be stubborn, and I'll kill you." His words drained the color from my face. With shaking hands, I picked it up and read through the pages.

It was a contract. One declaring that I was willingly giving myself to him as a fungible asset in exchange for him sparing my brother.

"A-Are you crazy?" My voice cracked.

"No."

"You think I'm something you can buy? Own? Pay off like some debt?" I snapped.

He smirked. "For what your brother owes me, even your life isn't enough." His voice was calm, but each word was like a blade.

"I... I don't understand—what the hell did my brother do to you?" I stood, anger bubbling through the fear. But he grabbed my jaw roughly and shoved me back down. My breath hitched when he pulled out his gun, aiming it at me.

"You have a pen. Sign," he ordered.

My body refused to move. "F-Fuck you—"

"Sign the damn thing!" he roared, slamming the steering wheel with a force that made me flinch. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I pulled out my pen. My hand trembled with every stroke of the signature. I didn't care that my tears splattered the paper. It was done.

I felt... empty. Had I made the right choice? Or just the biggest mistake of my life?

Hunter grabbed the contract, tucked it away, and holstered the gun. "From now on, you're not seeing Damon or Meast. Tomorrow afternoon, we leave the country without a word to them. Vegas. We'll get married there—but don't expect some fairytale wedding." His words sounded distant, muffled through the fog of my thoughts.

"Go to the room with the white door," he added. "Don't even think about running. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

I didn't fight back. I just obeyed. Once inside the room, my legs finally gave out. I collapsed to the floor.

Is this what I've become? A payment for Damon's debts? But if this was how I could protect him... then so be it. Damon protected me all my life4 Now it's my turn.

The next afternoon, we left. Just like he said. No goodbyes. No explanations. My chest ached with the thought of Damon and Meast searching for me. But what choice did I have? Every attempt to escape could cost me—or worse, Damon—our lives.

Walking through the airport, surrounded by Hunter's men, reality hit me. This wasn't some petty rivalry or misunderstanding. Damon and Meast seemed dangerous... but Hunter?

Hunter was on an entirely different level.

He wasn't just some engineering student with a pretty face and money.

He was darkness itself.

And I'd just been dragged into his shadows.

. . .