Kidnapped - A Beautiful Blessing

The house was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the turmoil that still simmered within her. The emptiness stretched endlessly, each hallway and corner heavy with the ghost of recent events. Sasha stood in the vast space, the weight of her thoughts pressing against her chest. She inhaled deeply, willing herself to push aside the tangled emotions threatening to consume her.

Seeking solace, she made her way to the bathroom, the sound of her footsteps swallowed by the thick silence. The moment the warm water cascaded over her skin, tension melted from her body. Droplets traced delicate paths down her spine, carrying away the remnants of the morning's confrontation. She closed her eyes, allowing herself a rare moment of peace as the steam curled around her, encasing her in a fleeting sanctuary.

Once refreshed, she wrapped herself in a plush towel, the fabric clinging to her damp skin as she padded barefoot into the bedroom. The vast closet loomed before her, filled with clothes that weren't hers. For a brief moment, she hesitated, fingers grazing the fine fabrics before instinctively reaching for one of Darius's T-shirts. The material was soft, worn in a way that hinted at frequent use, and the lingering scent of him—woodsy, dark, intoxicating—wrapped around her like an embrace. It was an unintentional reminder of their earlier clash, a silent echo of his presence in her absence.

Sliding into a pair of shorts, Sasha exhaled slowly, only to pause when something outside the window caught her attention. The room was bathed in golden light, the afternoon sun streaming in, casting soft shadows that danced along the floor. She moved closer, her fingers grazing the cool glass, and her breath hitched.

Beyond the grand estate, hidden from immediate view, sprawled a breathtaking garden—an untouched paradise of color and life. Dragonflies hovered lazily above delicate petals, their iridescent wings catching the sunlight. Multicolored butterflies flitted gracefully through the air, weaving intricate patterns of movement as if engaged in a silent waltz. Rows upon rows of flowers stretched out in a mesmerizing display—lilies, roses, sunflowers, and an array of wild blossoms swayed with the gentle breeze, their fragrance seeping through the barely open window like an invitation.

A sudden yearning stirred within her, an urge to step into that untouched world. She needed air—needed a moment to exist without the weight of her past clawing at her.

Deciding she would explore, Sasha detoured to the kitchen first. She moved with ease, tracing the unfamiliar space as though she'd been here a thousand times before. The sleek countertops gleamed under the warm glow of the overhead lights. She busied herself making a milkshake, the hum of the blender filling the void of silence. When the glass was finally filled to the brim with the creamy, chilled concoction, she took a tentative sip, the sweetness grounding her.

Glass in hand, she navigated through the house, her steps measured yet unhurried. The moment she pushed open the back doors and stepped outside, the world around her shifted. The air was different here—crisp, alive, tinged with the rich scent of earth and blossoms. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, dappling the ground in golden patches, while the rhythmic buzzing of honeybees filled the space like a whispered melody.

The soft grass yielded beneath her feet as she strolled leisurely through the garden, sipping her milkshake, taking in the sheer tranquility of it all. This peace was foreign to her. For years, she had been tangled in a web of deception, vengeance, and pain. To exist in a moment so still—so untouched by the weight of her past—felt almost unnatural.

She wandered, aimless yet entirely present, allowing the warmth of the sun to wrap around her, letting the wind tangle through her hair. Time blurred as she lost herself in the quiet beauty surrounding her. Eventually, she found herself beneath a towering tree, its sprawling branches offering a sanctuary of shade.

Sasha settled onto the ground, the rough bark pressing against her back as she leaned into it. Her empty glass rested beside her, forgotten as she pulled her knees to her chest. Her gaze drifted, landing on a single fallen leaf lying mere inches away. Unlike the rest of its companions, this one was brown, brittle—its once vibrant green now faded with time.

A contrast. A reminder.

Something about that lone leaf sent her thoughts spiraling, tugging at buried emotions she hadn't yet named. She exhaled, long and slow, her body growing heavier with each passing second. The garden, the warmth, the soft lull of nature—it all wove together in a comforting cocoon, lulling her deeper into thought.

Her lashes fluttered. The distant hum of life dulled.

And before she realized it, sleep claimed her.

By the time Sasha stirred awake, the sky had begun its slow transformation, shifting from the soft pastels of dusk into the richer, warmer hues of sunset. A gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the lingering warmth of the afternoon, now tempered by an unmistakable evening chill. She rubbed her arms, shivering slightly as goosebumps rose along her skin, the coolness a stark contrast to the heavy stillness of sleep.

Pushing herself upright, she took a steady breath, feeling the stiffness in her muscles from sleeping outside. The world around her had quieted, the once lively chirping of birds fading into distant echoes. The scent of earth and faintly lingering flowers clung to her as she stepped back toward the house, her bare feet barely making a sound against the smooth stone floor of the terrace.

Inside, the air was different—heavier, untouched by the breeze. The house seemed even quieter than before, as though it had settled into an unnatural stillness in her absence. She walked into the kitchen, her fingers tightening slightly around the empty glass she had left behind. The quiet clink of glass against metal as she placed it in the sink was the only sound that broke the silence.

As she moved through the dimly lit halls, her steps slowed when her gaze landed on the phone Darius had given her. It sat exactly where she had left it on the bedside table, untouched and undisturbed, as if waiting for her to acknowledge its existence.

Her stomach clenched.

She reached for it with hesitant fingers, pressing the power button. The screen flickered to life, illuminating her face with a cold glow. Eleven missed calls.

Her chest tightened as she swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. Then, her eyes caught the single unread message.

**"Where the hell are you?"**

Short. Blunt. Laced with restrained anger.

Sasha hesitated, her thumb hovering over the keyboard.

After a brief pause, she typed her response.

**Was sleeping in the garden.

Forgot to take the phone.**

Her finger pressed send before she could second-guess herself. Setting the phone down, she exhaled slowly and turned toward the window.

The sky had darkened considerably, the deepening blue now dusted with streaks of silver as the moon emerged from behind a veil of scattered clouds. The once-lively garden she had found solace in earlier had stilled, the wind barely rustling the leaves. Shadows stretched long across the ground, draping everything in a quiet, almost eerie calm.

Then, the low hum of an approaching engine broke the silence.

Her gaze snapped toward the front gate just as the headlights of a sleek black car cut through the night. The guards moved swiftly, unlocking and pulling the heavy gates open, allowing the vehicle to glide inside without pause. The moment it passed, the gates shut with an air of finality, sealing off the outside world once more.

Sasha's pulse quickened.

She turned away from the window just as the door creaked open. She didn't need to see who it was—she already knew.

Darius entered, his presence filling the room with its usual intensity. He stood tall, his expression unreadable, but there was something sharp in the way he looked at her, something simmering beneath the surface.

"Slept for hours, didn't you?" His voice was smooth but carried a mocking undertone, a quiet reprimand hidden within his casual remark.

Sasha met his gaze head-on, refusing to let his tone unnerve her. "Yeah. Normal humans do sleep. Unlike someone who prefers… other ways."

The corner of his mouth twitched—just a fraction. It wasn't quite a smile, more of a ghost of amusement that never fully formed.

"Normal humans also prefer sleeping at night," he countered.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Then maybe you should try it sometime."

He didn't reply, but something unreadable flickered in his gaze. Before she could press further, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Without hesitation, he pulled it out, answering with a clipped tone as he turned and walked away.

His posture was stiff, his shoulders tense as he spoke into the device, his words low and measured. It wasn't a conversation meant for her ears, and she knew better than to ask.

Minutes passed.

Then, a soft but unexpected knock echoed against the door.

Sasha frowned. Darius never knocked. He never asked permission. He only took.

"Come in," she called out hesitantly.

The door opened to reveal a woman in a crisp black-and-white uniform, her posture straight and disciplined. A maid.

Sasha's brows lifted slightly.

Without a word, the woman stepped inside, her movements precise as she placed a tray of food on the small table near the window. The dishes were arranged with meticulous care, the meal steaming and fresh. After ensuring everything was in place, she turned, bowed respectfully, and exited the room as silently as she had arrived.

Sasha stared at the tray.

It was… strange. She had never been served like this before. The formality of it felt foreign, yet oddly unsettling.

Still, hunger gnawed at her, and she knew better than to let pride keep her from eating. She sat down, picking up the silverware, the first bite easing the tension she hadn't realized was coiling in her stomach.

The meal was quiet, but the awareness of Darius's looming presence—somewhere beyond that door—kept her on edge.

Once she finished, she noticed a small black button placed beside her plate. She hesitated before pressing it.

A loud beep echoed through the room.

Moments later, the door opened again, and the same woman returned, her expression unreadable as she cleared the dishes with the same silent efficiency. Without a word, she disappeared once more, leaving Sasha alone.

And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't truly alone at all.

Sasha climbed into bed, restless, her body exhausted but her mind refusing to quiet. She tossed and turned, frustration building with each passing minute. Sleep remained elusive, teasing her just beyond reach. With an exasperated sigh, she threw off the covers, the cool air brushing against her bare arms as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

The room was silent except for the faint rustling of the trees outside. Drawn by an unknown force, she wandered to the window.

A full moon hung in the sky, its silvery glow spilling over the landscape like a soft veil. The garden below shimmered in the ethereal light, each leaf and flower bathed in shades of silver and shadow. A gust of wind slipped through the tiny crack in the windowpane, sending a chill through her bones. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms to fight off the cold.

Her gaze lingered on the moon, entranced. It reminded her of an old painting—beautiful yet burdened with secrets. It felt like her own reflection, distant and untouchable.

Time blurred. Minutes stretched into an hour, maybe more. It wasn't until a wave of exhaustion finally began to pull at her that she realized how late it had become. With a slow exhale, she turned away from the window and climbed back into bed, tugging the blanket up to her chin.

Just as sleep started to take her, the sharp ring of a phone shattered the silence.

Her eyes snapped open, disoriented.

That wasn't her phone.

It was Darius's.

Frowning, she turned her head toward the dimly lit corner of the room. The device lay on the table, its screen glowing brightly as it vibrated insistently. But before she could process anything, her attention locked onto something else entirely.

Her breath hitched.

Darius.

He was there, sitting on the sofa, his broad chest bare—**his shirt discarded on the floor, soaked in blood.**

Sasha's stomach twisted in alarm. She scrambled out of bed, rushing toward him.

His fingers gripped the handle of a knife, pressing the blade against his own skin, his jaw clenched in steely focus. He was trying to dig out a bullet.

Her breath caught at the sight of him—his skin streaked with crimson, the deep wound in his chest raw and exposed.

"**What the hell are you doing?**" she demanded, her voice sharp with horror.

"Taking care of it," he muttered, barely glancing at her. His voice was tight, strained.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You could get an infection!"

"It's a clean shot." His frustration bled into his words, his face pale from blood loss.

"Have you done this before?"

His hand didn't waver. "Many times."

"Then why don't you call a doctor?"

"There's a problem with that."

Before she could ask what problem, he exhaled harshly and yanked the bullet free. The small piece of metal clattered onto the table, slick with blood.

More crimson seeped from the wound, and Sasha inhaled sharply. Instinct took over. She surged forward, pressing her hand firmly over the gash in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Darius's entire body tensed. His gaze flicked up to hers, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

"What?" she snapped, breathless. "It's not like I'm going to use this opportunity to kill you. I'm human, not a monster."

A slow, almost exasperated exhale left him. "Then what's your purpose? Just touching me for fun?"

Heat rose to her cheeks. Scowling, she snatched her hand back. "I don't know how to stop the bleeding, but I know you need help."

Darius had already started cleaning away the excess blood, reaching for the antiseptic. But as he opened the first-aid box, his movements stilled.

The dressing was missing.

Sasha didn't hesitate. She darted toward the wardrobe, her hands flying over the shelves as she searched for anything that could be of use. Finally, her fingers closed around a soft white cotton T-shirt. Without wasting a second, she yanked it free and rushed back to him.

Her heart lurched at the sight of him—his normally powerful frame slumped, his abdomen slick with blood.

She pressed the shirt firmly against the wound, watching in morbid fascination as the fabric turned crimson.

Darius didn't flinch, his breathing slow and measured despite the obvious pain. But his eyes—dark, piercing—were locked onto her. Studying her.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

His lips quirked slightly, as if amused by her sudden concern. "Some enemies thought they could outsmart me."

She arched a brow. "With a gun? Sounds smart to me."

Despite himself, he smirked. The expression was brief, fleeting. But the pain in his eyes remained.

The bleeding finally began to slow. Sasha tore off the stained portion of the shirt, folding the clean part before pressing it back against his wound. Carefully, she wrapped a long strip of cloth around his torso, tying it off with a firm knot.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged.

She was close to him now—closer than she had been in weeks. Close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her fingertips.

Darius tilted his head slightly, watching her with unreadable intensity. "You're good at this."

She scoffed, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened. "Don't get used to it."

But as her hands lingered on him for just a second longer, she knew they both felt it—**the pull that neither of them could resist.**