Captured by him

Captured by him

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Introduction

I left behind the lies, the fear, and the mafia world my ex dragged me into. A new apartment was supposed to be my fresh start to focus on my photography and life ahead.

Then I met the man across the hall. Dante Voss was everything I didn't know I needed–kind, patient and very attentive. He made me feel safe for the first time in months and even my stalker seemed far away now. Everything was perfect until cracks started to show up as he knew things I never told him, isolated me and the more I fell for him, the more I started to wonder if our meeting was ever an accident at all.

Because the truth is far worse than I imagined.

Now I'm trapped between two ruthless mafia kings, hunted by the past I ran from and protected by the man who has been watching me from the shadows all along. The stalker I've feared for months and the man I've fallen in love with are one and the same.

Some men don't pursue you, they simply make sure there's nowhere else to go.

Chapter 1

MIA

"Girl, your post has over two million likes. Two whole million. Can you at least pretend to be excited?"

"Mm." I kept scrolling through the edits on my laptop, not looking up.

Yuna made a sound like I'd personally offended her. She was sitting cross-legged on the studio couch, phone in my face, showing me a photo I'd posted three days ago which was a candid photo of a street vendor at 2am, the steam from his cart catching the light in a way that looked almost cinematic. It had done numbers on the Internet with a lot of reposts and shares and I knew I couldn't bring myself to care right now.

"Mia. Two million." She repeated. “Do you know what that is?”

"I heard you the first time."

"Then why do you look like someone ran over your dog?"

I finally looked up. "I don't have a dog."

"That's exactly the problem." She dropped her phone on the cushion beside her. "When's the last time you slept? Actually slept."

"I'll sleep when the magazine deadline passes."

"That was three days ago."

I didn't answer because she was right. The shoot had wrapped up on Wednesday and it was now Saturday. I'd been in the studio every day since because going home now felt different these days and I always needed to mentally prepare myself for it but I couldn't bring myself to explain that to Yuna without sounding unhinged.

"Call Ren," she said. "Have him pick you up tonight. You don't need to be alone right now. Heck you should be celebrating"

Her suggestion made my chest feel tight and uncomfortable. Not because I didn't want to see him but because a lot had been going on and I hadn't even come to terms with why I had been avoiding him.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're running on coffee and whatever sad granola bar I saw you eat at noon." She stood up and started gathering her bag. "I'm serious. Call him. You look like you need someone to actually take care of you tonight."

"I'll be okay." I lied.

"You keep saying that." She slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at me properly. Not teasing anymore. "You've been off for weeks, Mia. Not tired-off. Something else-off. Has something happened?"

My mind went to the messages and the feeling of being watched I had been getting at the train station and it always vanished when I looked back.

It was nothing. I was probably just tired.

"I'm just burnt out," I said.

She studied me for a second. I could tell she didn't fully believe me and I could tell she was deciding whether to push but she decided not to.

"Okay," she said. "But call Ren. Don't go home alone tonight.

She left twenty minutes later. I packed up slowly, turned off the studio lights, and stood in the dark for a second longer than necessary.

Then I called Ren.

It rang out.

I called again.

Nothing.

I texted: “Heading home. Are you around?”

No reply. With a sigh, I shrugged and took the train.


I heard them before I opened the door.

There were several low voices in my apartment which I lived in all alone. I froze. Yes, Ren had a key but I knew Ren’s voice and these weren't just his.

After a minute of pulling on my big girl panties, I pushed the door open.

There were four of them. Ren was standing near the window. The other three were spread across my living room in a way that showed they had been here for a while and had made themselves comfortable.

But that wasn't what made my blood run cold. It was the gun that they each had visible holstered to their hips.

I stood in the doorway. My bag was still on my shoulder but my hand gripped the strap tighter.

"Ren."

He turned. "Hey. I was going to call you back."

"What is this?"

"Come in and close the door."

"I'm not—" I stepped inside anyway because standing in the open hallway felt worse. I pulled the door shut behind me. "Who are these people?"

One of the men glanced at me, then back at Ren unbothered.

"Business associates." Ren said simply like that explained why they had guns. What sort of associates were these?

"In my apartment."

"It was the closest location—"

"Get them out."

He looked at me then with an expression I didn't like. He looked a bit fed up like I was being unreasonable and he was allowing it by being patient. "Mia."

"I'm not doing this. Get them out of my apartment, Ren."

He crossed his arms. "We're in the middle of something."

"I don't care."

"You need to start caring," he said, and his voice had shifted into a lower and darker tone. "Things are moving right now. There's going to be a clash with a rival faction in the next few weeks and I need you to understand that my schedule is going to be—"

"A what?" What was he even talking about?

He didn't repeat it.

I turned to look at the men and how they carried themselves and then back a Ren and the switch in behaviour and then it all clicked.

He told me he had stopped and he was out but that clearly was a lie.

"How long?" I asked.

"How long what?”

"How long has this,” I pointed at the men. “ Been back in your life?"

He held my gaze. "Get used to it."

That was it. He didn't offer any information or try to pacify me and had seen enough.

I put my bag down on the floor, went to the bedroom, pulled my suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and started filling it with clothes, my hard drives, the envelope of cash I kept in the nightstand, my film rolls, my passport.

Ren appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

"Mia—"

"Don't." I didn't look at him. "Don't do the calm voice thing right now."

"You're overreacting."

I zipped the suitcase and finally looked at him. "I'm leaving. We're done. Don't fucking call me. Ever."

He stared at me for a moment and I saw something in his eyes. Not hurt but just irritation like I was an inconvenience right now.

That made it even easier.

I wheeled the suitcase past the three men without making eye contact, picked up my bag and my camera case by the door, and left.


Yuna opened her apartment door in a face mask and immediately pulled me inside without a single question. That was the thing I loved most about her. She didn't need the explanation to show up for me.

I showered, changed, and ate the leftover rice she reheated without being asked.

Around midnight I opened Instagram. I wasn't going to make a post but I just needed to do something with my hands or else they would be punching through a dry wall with the imagination of Ren’s face right now. Instead, I typed a vague post that anyone who had been following me for a while would be able to read between the lines.

“Funny how some chapters close themselves.” It said then I attached it to one of the 2am street vendor shots and posted it before I could overthink it.

I wasn't one to bring my personal life to social media but I needed an outlet right now.i set the phone down then immediately picked it back up because I couldn’t help it.

It already had two comments and seven likes, one of the comments being from Yuna from the other room — she'd typed it instead of walking the six feet to the couch, which was so her.

I frowned as one DM from a Blank account. A blank account was an account which didn't have a profile picture, post or followers.

I opened it hesitantly. Something about it felt odd. The hairs on the back of my neck stood as I read the message.

“Happy breakup.”

My stomach dropped.

"Yuna," I called out.

She appeared in the kitchen doorway still in her face mask. "What?"

I held up my phone. She walked over, squinted at it, then looked at me.

"Mia, who the hell is sending you that?"

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