Trapped in the Crime Lord's Obsession

Anna's POV

"My mother used to say, when there's a heavy downpour of rain, it means the Earth is mourning dead souls."

The sharp crackle of lightning lit up the night, followed by a rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the car.

The sound jolted me back to reality. I hated thunderstorms-the noise, the darkness, the way my chest tightened every time it struck.

I took a shaky breath, trying to focus. "Can you go any faster?" I asked the driver, my voice sharper than I intended.

"Sorry, ma'am, but I have to drive carefully. The roads are slick with rain," he replied, his hands steady on the wheel.

I bit my lip, drumming my fingers anxiously on my thigh, feeling like something was clawing inside me. I tried blaming the weather or the pace of the drive, but deep down, I knew there was something else, something I couldn't shake.

Desperate to distract myself, I reached into my bag, searching for my phone. Maybe scrolling through the internet would ease this gnawing anxiety.

But when I glanced at the screen, my heart dropped. A message from my sister.

"Hi Anna, call me as soon as you see this. It's about Mum."

I dropped my phone onto my thigh, frustration knotting in my stomach. My head sank against the cold glass of the window, and I closed my eyes briefly, fighting the heavy feeling pressing down on me. My sister never texts me-unless there's a problem.

With a deep sigh, I picked up my phone, staring at the screen for a moment before dialing her number. My fingers hovered over the call button, as if pressing it might make whatever she had to say all too real. But I couldn't avoid it.

Bracing myself, I tapped to call, listening to the rings echo in my ear, each one building the weight of whatever news was coming.

"Hello," Kate's voice came through, shaky and strained.

"Hi, Kate. I got your text. What's going on?" My voice wavered, a chill creeping over me as I picked up on the dread lacing her words.

"It's... it's Mum," she stammered, her tone brittle, like she was on the verge of breaking down. "Her health is failing."

A lump formed in my throat as tears pricked at my eyes, but I forced myself to stay steady. "What happened? Is it... is it serious?"

Kate took a shuddering breath. "The doctor says she needs immediate surgery. Her intestines are perforated from food poisoning, and the cost... we'll need $100,000."

"$100,000? Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?" I whispered, feeling the weight of it press down on me.

"I don't know, sis," Kate replied, her voice trembling. "Maybe... maybe we could try calling Dad?"

I closed my eyes, my mind racing with a hundred conflicting thoughts. "You know what, Kate? I'll call you back. I just... I need a minute to think."

"Alright. Just... don't take too long."

I dropped my phone onto the seat beside me, gripping the back of the passenger seat as I bowed my head, fighting to keep it together. "Oh no, no, no... this can't be happening," I whispered, a sob escaping despite myself. Memories of everything my mother had endured flooded my mind, making the pain sharper.

"Ma'am... are you alright?" the driver asked gently, glancing at me through the rearview mirror, concern etched on his face.

I forced myself to take a shaky breath, brushing away the tears as I tried to steady my voice. "Just... just keep driving, please."

The driver's voice had an undertone that struck a nerve, tugging at something buried, something painful. It reminded me of my father.

The thought of him, especially now that Kate had suggested we ask for his help, made my stomach twist in fury and heartbreak.

I pressed the handkerchief to my face, willing the tears to stop. What kind of man abandons his wife and children without a second thought? My father-no, he wasn't a father. He was the man who had shattered us.

Our world had crumbled the first time he'd raised a hand to my mother, his anger unleashed because she'd dared accuse him of cheating. And she'd been right. He didn't care about the wounds he left behind, about the nights we stayed up waiting for him to come home. He just walked out, trading us in for his new life, his new wife, like we meant nothing.

A sob escaped me before I could choke it down. I wasn't just grieving for my mother's pain-I was grieving for the family we should have had but lost because of him.

The driver's voice pulled me back to reality.

"We're here, ma'am," he said softly.

I quickly wiped my tears, digging into my bag for some cash. I handed it over with a faint nod, barely meeting his eyes. The cold air hit me as I pushed the door open and stepped out, the chill wrapping around me like a reminder of the reality I had to face.

I closed the door, and within seconds, he drove off, leaving me standing alone in the dark, under the weight of the storm and my own heartache.

The rain had stopped, but the cold clung to me, seeping through my clothes and chilling me to the bone. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself as I walked down the empty street, each step weighed down by exhaustion and dread.

When I reached my gate, a strange stillness settled over me. Normally, our dog, Chelie would be barking by now, announcing my arrival. But tonight, there was only silence. An unsettling quiet.

I hesitated, glancing around before pushing open the gate.

I made my way through the garden, calling softly, "Chelie?" But there was no response. A prickle of unease crawled up my spine.

The cold was biting, sinking into my bones, so I turned back toward the house, eager for warmth-only to stop short when I saw the front door ajar.

My heart skipped a beat. My mother and sister were still at the hospital, and no one else was supposed to be here. Fear tightened in my chest as the thought of an intruder crossed my mind.

Swallowing hard, I approached the door, weighing my options. I reached out, pushing it open just enough to slip inside, moving carefully, hoping to make as little noise as possible.

As I stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat at the horrific sight before me.

My father lay sprawled on the floor, drowning in a pool of his own blood, and hovering over him were two huge men in black suits, their faces shadowed and menacing.

Panic surged through me, and I covered my mouth to stifle a scream, the sound muffled by disbelief.

My bag slipped from my grip, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Just as my instincts screamed for me to run, I felt a sudden prick in my neck-a sharp pain that turned into an icy grip of fear. A tranquilizer.

My body betrayed me as I spun around, desperate to escape the nightmare, but my vision began to blur.

I fought to stay upright, my heart racing as the room swirled around me. I struggled to keep my balance, but my legs buckled, and I collapsed to the ground, the world fading to black.

Anna's POV

My head pounded as I came back to consciousness, a dull ache throbbing behind my eyes.

I blinked, my vision clearing just enough to catch sight of a man standing over me, his expression as cold as stone.

Panic set in, but I tried to keep it hidden, my eyes darting around the room. There were more men, rough, brutal-looking, and then my gaze landed on a particular one amongst them.

He sat apart from the others, watching, calm and unreadable. Unlike the others, he didn't look at us with hostility. Instead, he seemed almost bored, a quiet authority radiating from his relaxed posture.

"Get up," the man in front of me barked, grabbing my arm and yanking me to my feet. My heart raced, but I forced myself to stand steady.

"Please..." I wanted to speak but a stinging slap to my face stopped my words.

The man grabbed my chin, "You don't utter a sound unless you are asked." He said, shoving his scarred face in front of me.

"Wake the others," he commanded, his tone cold and dismissive.

The men obeyed immediately, moving through the room to where the other women lay unconscious. They shook each of them roughly until each woman woke up, blinking in confusion and fear.

"Stand up. All of you," he ordered again, his voice slicing through the air with authority.

Around me, the other women began to stir, each one rising unsteadily to her feet. They moved slowly, as though they feared any sudden motion might bring even worse consequences. One by one, they rose, heads lowered, hands trembling. Eyes wide and terrified.

I dared another glance at the man on the chair. He hadn't moved, his expression unreadable as he watched, almost as if he were weighing us silently, detached from the brutality around him.

The sharp click of a lighter snapped my attention back to the man in front of me as he took a slow drag of his cigar.

Trying to muster some courage, I straightened. "If it's money you're after, you're wasting your time with me. I don't have any. So why don't you just let me go?"

He raised an eyebrow, taking the cigar from his mouth, "Do I look like I give a damn about your money?"

Then he drew out a gun, and my chest tightened.

He studied me for a long moment, as if considering whether I was worth his time. Then, he shifted his gaze to the others.

"Strip. All of you," he commanded, his voice like steel. "Now."

The women around me stiffened, glancing at each other with wide, terrified eyes.

Our hesitation seemed to bore him. A sharp hiss escaped his lips.

The man's eyes flicked back to me, narrowing. He tilted his head slightly, his expression darkening with annoyance.

He lifted the gun and fired at the girl beside me, sending a chill down my spine.

The gunshot echoed through the room. She crumpled to the floor, lifeless, her eyes still opened in shock.

The women stifled their gasps.

I covered my mouth to hold back my scream.

"I won't repeat myself," he said.

Some of the women, trembling, began to undress.

The men standing around smirked with hungry eyes as they were eager to watch.

The man with the gun twisted his lips, whistling in amusement as his gaze swept over us.

"Trying to act tough, huh?" he sneered, waving the gun inches from my face.

My hands shook as I slowly slipped off my Jacket, exposing just my arms and shoulders. I paused.

"That's as far as I can go." I Snapped, "I'd rather die than strip naked before you and your men."

The men around us chuckled, folding their arms as though watching a show.

His face twisted with anger and he snarled, "Death it is, then."

He raised his gun at me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the worst.

A gunshot rang out. I flinched, but felt nothing.

Then another shot, and another. Gasps echoed around me.

Opening my eyes, I saw the brutal man who'd held the gun lying lifeless.

Several others were shot too.

But the man who'd sat silently in the chair earlier, he was standing now.

Why had he saved me? Is he a special force?

He walked towards us, his gaze locked onto me.

A chill ran down my spine as he stopped in front of me, tilting his head slightly as he examined my arm.

"Where did you get that tattoo?" His voice was calm, but something in his eyes held me captive.

"It's been there since I was a kid," I replied, wondering what interest he had in my tattoo.

H looked directly into my eyes, and for a second, the fear in my chest stilled.

Without moving his head, he rolled his gaze toward the other ladies. "The rest of you can go."

They didn't hesitate. Each one grabbed her clothes, hurried out of the room.

As the other women ran out, my heart hammered in my chest, torn between fear and something I couldn't quite place.

He was everything I should be terrified of, calmly holding a gun, his gaze intense.

But there was something about him that pulled me in, like the calm after a storm, dangerous yet strangely comforting.

I knew I should have been afraid. Every rational thought screamed for me to run, but something about his presence made it hard to move.

"What's about me?" I asked, still confused.

He shifted his gaze back to me, I felt my breath hitch.

His face was rough yet striking, with dark eyes that seemed to look right through me, his dark hair, falling over his forehead

"What's your name?"

I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... I'm Anna."

"Anna, come with me," he said, that smooth tone of his, so sure of obedience.

I stood rooted to the spot. "I'm not going anywhere with you," my voice steady.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. "Don't test me," he warned.

I squared my shoulders, lifting my chin. "You can't force me.

Before I could say another word, he lifted me onto his shoulders.

"Let go of me!" I screamed, twisting against his grip. "I'm not some prize you can just carry off!"

He walked straight out of the building, ignoring my pleas as though they were nothing more than background noise.

Outside, his men stood waiting by a luxurious black car, heads bowed and hands clasped, awaiting his orders.

Without a word, he handed me over to them. The men held me firmly, and before I could twist free, they wound thick tape around my wrists and pressed another strip across my mouth, muffling my protests.

My heart raced as I was lowered onto the seat of the car.

He slid in right beside me, unfazed by my muffled cries as he injected me with a tranquilizer. "Not again," I muttered, before drifting off to sleep."

Anna's POV

I slept through the night in a room he'd prepared for me in his mansion, but it felt more like a prison than a sanctuary.

The memory of my father's lifeless body, drenched in his own blood, haunted me. What about my sister? My mother? Were they safe? Did they even know I was gone?

A fierce anger bubbled within me, directed at the man who had taken me against my will, my so-called "savior." He was nothing but a demon in disguise, dragging me into a world I wanted no part of.

A sharp knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts.

Before I could even gather my rage, it swung open, and two young maids stepped in, their heads bowed.

"Good morning, miss," one of them said softly. "We've brought breakfast. Master requests that you put this on and join him in the main hall when you're ready."

"Requests?" I spat, "More like demands. Why should I even think about doing anything he says?"

They exchanged worried glances, but I didn't care.

I crossed my arms, glaring at them. "I'm not a prisoner, and I won't be treated like one. I won't wear whatever ridiculous thing he picked out for me."

The first maid set a tray of food down, but I ignored it, my eyes locked on the second maid as she unfolded a garment bag that caught my attention.

Inside lay a wedding gown, elegant and extravagant, clearly meant for some twisted purpose.

"Master wants you to wear this," the second maid said, her voice trembling slightly.

"This is for the wedding," she explained.

I couldn't help but laugh, "You're all crazy in this damn house!" I hissed, "Go tell your fucking master that I am not his fucking slave! Over my dead body will I marry a cruel creature like him."

The maids flinched at my outburst, their eyes wide with shock. I didn't care.

My heart raced, fueled by a mixture of anger and desperation. "I'm not playing his stupid game. I refuse to be a pawn in whatever sick plan he has!"

The first maid opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. "I don't want your pity or your damn food. You can't force me to wear that dress or marry him. I'd rather die than submit to that monster!"

With a heavy sigh, they backed away slowly, leaving the gown and the tray of food behind.

I was alone, but my anger blazed brightly. I wouldn't let this man break me. I would fight back with every ounce of strength I had.

The door swung open again, and he stepped in, wearing a fitted black shirt and matching trousers instead of the suit from the night before.

He was tall and handsome, his muscular build reminiscent of Captain America. The sight of him stirred a conflicting mix of admiration and fear within me.

I met his gaze, trying to keep my face composed despite the quiver in my chest. "I'm not afraid of you," I said quietly, my voice steady, though it revealed a fleeting slip in confidence. "And I'm not wearing that wedding gown."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I see you're still full of fire. I like that." His voice was smooth, almost teasing, as he stepped closer. "But You know you don't have a choice."

I forced my body to remain still despite the fear that threatened to betray me. I had to keep my composure. I couldn't show him how much he scared me.

"Choice?" I forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow, even to me. " You're delusional if you think I'd ever willingly marry you! You're nothing but a monster in a pretty package!"

His eyebrows furrowed in anger, and the playful smirk vanished from his face. "Watch what you say. I don't want to have to force you. Just do as you're told and put on the wedding gown."

I bit my lip, the sudden fear almost making my knees buckle. But I fought it back, pushing it down, focusing on staying composed. "I don't care. You can't make me."

His eyes flashed with something darker, and for a moment, I feared he would lash out.

My heart hammered in my chest, and I held my breath, bracing myself for whatever would come next.

He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Leaning closer, he handed it to me, and my heart raced as I unfolded it.

Confusion washed over me as I stared at the image-it was a picture of my mother. My breath caught in my throat.

He nodded slightly, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I suppose the woman in this picture is your mother. Refuse to marry me, and she dies."

My chest tightened as the reality of his words sank in, a cold dread wrapping around my heart. How could he wield my mother's life as a weapon against me?

He casually checked his wristwatch, "You have five minutes to decide. Meet me downstairs when you're ready. But remember this: whatever choice you make, you won't be leaving this mansion."

With that, he turned on his heel and opened the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. How could he be so heartless?

Author's POV

As Anna sat in stunned silence, the door clicked shut behind the man, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

He stepped into the big parlor.

His right-hand man looked up from his spot on a leather armchair, concern etched across his face.

"Master," his right-hand man greeted, rising from a leather armchair. "

He hesitated, "Mr Damon, are you really serious about this? Why marry her? She's not worth it. You have options far better than her."

Damon sank into his chair, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "The tattoo on her arm belongs to a very powerful rival. My guess is she's the daughter of the Don."

Tiger's eyes widened in surprise, the weight of the revelation settling in. "That's a big jackpot, boss. What do you want me to do?"

Damon leaned back, rubbing his temples. "Run a background check on her. DNA test, anything that confirms she's the daughter of Kane Blackwood."