Madness

Isabella’s POV

Pain. That was the first thing I felt. A deep, dull ache in her wrists, the lingering tightness of the rope pressing into my skin even though it had loosened slightly overnight. I stirred, wincing as the sting flared again.

Where am I?

A shiver ran down my spine. The air was cold, the room dimly lit by the faint morning light slipping through a window I couldn’t quite see. I shifted, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me, but then—

I froze.

A presence. Heavy. Intense. Watching.

My heart pounded against my ribcage as I turned my head, my breath catching in my throat.

He was there.

Sitting across the room, unmoving, his dark eyes pinned to me as if I might vanish if he blinked. His broad shoulders were tense, his chiseled face unreadable. He looked… haunted. Possessive. Like a man staring at something that could slip off his hand any second.

Did he stay here watching me sleep all night?

A shudder of unease crawled down my spine.

Fucking creep.

I shrank back instinctively, pressing myself against the headboard. I wanted distance, space to breathe, to think—but there was none. My pulse was erratic, my throat dry.

Why is this happening to me?

All I had wanted was a break, a quiet holiday. A chance to unwind. If I had known my trip would result in me being kidnapped by a man who kept calling me someone else, I would’ve never left Texas.

The frustration built in my chest, mixing with terror. I needed to escape.

I cleared my throat, willing my voice to sound calm, steady. “I… I need to use the restroom.”

A flicker of something passed through his dark eyes. His fingers twitched on the armrest, his body tense as if he were debating whether or not to trust me. But then he stood, slow and controlled, towering over me.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

He was massive. Even in the dim light, I could see the sheer power in his build, the effortless way he moved, the quiet storm brewing beneath his composed exterior.

He reached for me, and I flinched.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice was deep, smooth, but there was something dangerous underneath.

I didn’t believe him.

Still, he moved carefully, undoing the last of the rope around my wrists. The moment my hands were free, I pulled them close to my chest, rubbing at the sore skin.

His gaze lingered there. His fingers twitched again.

It seemed like he enjoyed this view—seeing me marked, seeing the evidence of his control.

A sick wave of realization crashed over me.

This wasn’t just about keeping me here. I could tell that he wanted me. And not just in some fleeting way. There was a hunger in his eyes, dark and unrelenting. A twisted mix of obsession and possession.

“I’m waiting,” he murmured, tilting his head toward the bathroom.

I swallowed hard, rising to my feet. My legs were shaky, but I forced myself to walk with as much dignity as I could manage. He followed me, staying close, his body heat licking at my skin like fire.

Once inside the bathroom, I turned to shut the door.

He didn’t let me.

The moment I tried, his hand shot out, gripping the edge of the doorframe. “Leave it open.”

A spark of defiance flared inside me. “Are you serious?”

His expression was unreadable, but his voice was unwavering. “Yes.”

My nails dug into her palms. “I can’t exactly escape through the toilet, you psycho.”

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. He took a slow step closer, until I could feel the ghost of his breath on my cheek. “Do you really want to test me right now, Ariana?”

The way he said that name—low, deliberate—sent an unwilling shiver down my spine.

I hated him. Hated the way he made me feel like I was prey caught in a hunter’s snare.

But I couldn’t fight him just yet.

Grinding my teeth, I turned my back to him and did what I had to do. Every second was excruciating, knowing he was right there, watching.

When I finished, I spun around. “Happy now?”

Something in his expression shifted. He stepped forward, reaching out—

I recoiled.

His jaw clenched. His hands flexed at his sides, as if restraining himself. “You’re afraid of me.”

“No shit,” I spat. “You kidnapped me, tied me up, and kept calling me some other woman’s name. Should I be thankful instead?”

He let out a slow, heavy breath. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain,” I shot back. “Because I’d love to know why I’m being held hostage by a lunatic.”

His gaze darkened. “You are her.”

My stomach twisted.

“No,” I whispered. “I’m not.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

Then, suddenly, he moved. Fast.

Before I could react, he had me pinned against the cold tile wall. His hand gripped my throat, his body pressed so close I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

My breath hitched.

His fingers brushed along my jaw, the touch almost gentle. Almost reverent. But his eyes… His eyes told a different story.

“Let me go,” I choked out, hating how weak my voice sounded.

Something in his eyes shifted.

In an instant, his lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot and unsteady. A shiver ran down my spine as he traced a slow, teasing kiss before grazing my earlobe with his teeth. His voice was low, possessive. “You belong to me.”

I trembled. Not just with fear—but something deeper. Something unspoken.

This was madness. This was dangerous.

And worst of all?

A part of me wasn’t sure if I should still be scared.

This man could be a monster for all I knew. A twisted, dangerous bastard. I should be terrified. Men like him should be avoided at all costs.

And yet, instead of cowering, I met his gaze head-on, my voice sharp with defiance. “I don’t belong to you. You’re nothing but a sick bastard, and the moment I get out of here, I’m going straight to the police.”

That was my mistake.

His lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. Before I could react, his fingers closed around my wrist, yanking me forward with effortless strength. A gasp barely left my lips before I found myself pressed against the bed, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Leather straps circled my wrists, securing them to the bedposts. I twisted, fought, but he was already fastening my ankles, rendering me completely at his mercy.

“What the fuck?” I snarled, thrashing in vain. “Let me go!”

He only chuckled, dark amusement flickering in his eyes. His hands skimmed down my body, slow, deliberate, claiming every inch as if I already belonged to him.

“You fight so beautifully,” he murmured, his voice like silk over steel. “But let’s see how long that lasts.”

Within seconds, I was lying in front of him, naked, exposed, defenseless.

His fingers ghosted over my bare skin, igniting a shiver I couldn’t suppress. My breath hitched, torn between fury and something far more dangerous—something that made my body betray me.

“Please,” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face but he covered my exposed breast with his large hands, kneading them in a slow rhythm.

“Let me give you a glimpse of what it truly means to be a sick bastard,” he whispered.

My breath hitched as I felt his tongue on my wet fold.