Chapter 1 Run

Run. Just run. Before they lock you up again."

Sophia's lungs burned as she stumbled down the cracked sidewalk, her bare feet scraping against the rough concrete. Her thin summer dress stuck to her skin, damp with sweat and tears she refused to let fall. The taste of freedom was metallic fear, blood, and desperate hope all mixed on her tongue.

Behind her, the Stone mansion's iron gates loomed in her mind like prison bars. She could still hear Ava's fake sobs echoing in her ears "Daddy, she's trying to steal from us. She wants to take Grandma away. She doesn't love this family."

Lies.

Every word a lie.

But no one cared to see the truth.

Sophia clutched the small bag pressed to her chest - a single battered sketchbook, a half-empty wallet, her grandmother's silver hairpin. That was all she could take. Everything else her paintings, her name, her freedom was already theirs.

A shout carried through the warm California night. Car doors slammed shut somewhere up the street. John. He'd betrayed her too. He'd promised he loved her, promised they'd run away together. Instead, he told Ava everything.

"I thought it was just a misunderstanding, baby..." His excuse still replayed like poison.

Sophia ducked into a narrow alley between two old buildings. Her breathing came in shallow gasps as she pressed her back against the brick wall, praying the shadows would hide her. If they caught her now, they'd drag her back and this time they'd lock the door for good or worse. She'd heard Ava whisper about a rich old man. About selling her off like she was a painting to be signed and framed.

No. I'd rather die than go back.

She sank to the ground, knees drawn to her chest. Her fingers traced the butterfly birthmark on her collarbone the only piece of herself no one could steal.

Somewhere deep inside, a little girl's voice echoed: "Someone will come for you. Someone will find you."

She almost laughed at how childish that sounded now. She was alone. She had always been alone.

A muffled sound snapped her head up heavy footsteps, boots crunching glass underfoot. Sophia's pulse skittered. She pressed herself deeper into the shadows, hugging her bag tight. A tall figure emerged at the end of the alley, his silhouette backlit by the red glow of taillights. His steps were unhurried, predatory, like he owned the darkness.

Not John, her brain supplied. John slouched. This man moved like a panther all coiled power and lethal grace.

He stopped a few feet away. A single street lamp caught the edge of his face. Sharp jawline. Dark brown hair. And eyes ocean blue, glacial, scanning her like she was an inconvenient stain.

Sophia's breath caught. She could feel the danger radiating off him in waves. He wasn't one of her stepfather's goons. He was something worse.

"Get up," he said, voice low and deadly calm.

She flinched. "Please... I don't have anything. I'll leave. I"

"I said," he stepped closer, boots crunching glass, "get up."

She stayed frozen, wide eyed. She could almost see the gun holstered under his tailored black coat, the faint bulge near his ribs. Mafia. The word slid through her mind like a blade.

Before she could run, his gloved hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. The touch was ice against her feverish skin.

"Who... who are you?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

His eyes narrowed, lingering on her flushed face, the thin dress, the bruises she'd tried to hide. Something flickered there recognition? No. Just annoyance. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.

"Consider me your new problem, sweetheart."

Sophia's heart slammed in her chest. She tried to pull back, but his grip only tightened.

"Please... let me go. I'm not worth"

"Wrong answer." His lips curled in a cruel half smile. "From now on, you belong to me."