Trapped II
1220 Words
Lena's head was heavy, pounding with a relentless ache that refused to subside. Her eyelids fluttered open, slow and reluctant, revealing a blurred ceiling above her. The room was dim, shadows dancing across the walls, and her throat was parched, a dry, gritty sensation making her cough softly. She blinked a few times, trying to orient herself, but her mind was sluggish, fogged with confusion.
For a moment, she had no idea where she was. The darkness in her mind was thick, suffocating. Then, slowly, fragments of memory began to surface—sharp, jagged pieces that refused to fit together at first but grew clearer with each passing second. Her stomach clenched as the truth started to unravel, dread pooling in her chest.
Zayn.
The nightclub. She remembered him saving her from the chaos, pulling her away from the shadows of the club, his grip firm but strangely protective.
The confrontation from the next day.
The icy glare he had thrown her way when she refused to be bought, refused to give in to his threats. How he had cornered her again, refusing to let her go until she signed that damn NDA, the photos of her… actually of her sister, with his father flashing in her mind, incriminating and humiliating.
And Zayn’s cold voice: You’re not leaving until this is resolved.
Her stomach sank further as the memories deepened—how Zayn had refused to release her, how they had a tense standoff, words sharp and bitter, the air thick with unspoken accusations. She’d been desperate, exhausted, and overwhelmed, trying to figure out her next move, but now… now she was here… and she had no idea exactly where.
Slowly, she pushed herself upright, her limbs shaky from the ordeal. Her eyes drifted to the window, drawn by an inexplicable urge. She made her way forward, her steps cautious, her heart pounding in her chest. As she approached the glass, her breath caught in her throat.
The sight that greeted her was utterly terrifying. Water—vast, endless, shimmering beneath the window. The realization hit her like a freight train: she was on a vessel, a yacht or a ship perhaps. The cold, blue expanse stretched out before her, and panic surged through her veins.
What the hell was she doing here?
How did she end up on this floating prison?
Her last clear memory was the staff bringing her lunch: grilled fish, fruit, mineral water. She’d refused at first, suspicion prickling under her skin, but hunger had won. She’d eaten just enough to stop the trembling in her hands, then sat on the couch, watching the light fade behind the windows. After that—only fragments. Voices. Motion. The low hum of an engine. Then nothing.
Now she was here.
Now, looking around this unfamiliar, claustrophobic space, she understood one thing with absolute certainty: she was trapped.
Her mind raced, frantic and desperate.
Was this Zayn’s plan all along?
Had he really kidnapped her? She just thought that he was bluffing!
Her heart thudded painfully as the reality settled in—she was a prisoner, and her escape seemed impossible with the vast water surrounding her.
Tears welled up, but she blinked them away, clutching her trembling hands into fists. Her secret—her true identity—was still buried deep inside her, hidden.
But one thing was clear: she clearly misjudged and underestimated Zayn Specter.
--
The door opened behind her with a soft click.
“Good, you’re awake,” a man’s voice said. Calm. Controlled. It wasn’t Zayn—it was one of the men she’d seen in his penthouse. “Mr. Specter will see you shortly.”
She spun. “Where am I?”
“Safe,” he said simply. “Breakfast will be brought soon.”
“Safe?” She gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “I’m on a boat in the middle of nowhere!”
“Yacht,” he corrected mildly. “We’ll reach the marina later today.”
“Then I want to leave now.”
He didn’t answer, only inclined his head and left, the door closing with an efficient thud that made her heart pound even harder.
She pressed a shaking hand over her mouth. The room was beautiful, quiet, and it terrified her. Every surface gleamed; everything was designed for control.
When the second door opened, she didn’t need to turn to know who it was. The air changed. He had that effect—Zayn Specter filled spaces with the weight of his presence long before he spoke.
“Feeling better?” he asked, his tone deceptively polite.
She whirled on him. “Better? You brought me here without telling me where here is! You kidnapped me! Are you insane!!! ”
He regarded her for a long moment. Sunlight carved silver lines through his hair, his expression unreadable.
“You fainted,” he said finally. “I couldn’t exactly leave you on the floor of my penthouse, could I? I had business to attend to, and this was the safest option.”
“This is BS! On the water?” she snapped. “How is this the safest option?”
“Privacy,” he said simply. “No photographers. No leaks. No interruptions.”
Her pulse thudded. “You mean no witnesses.”
His mouth twitched—half amusement, half warning. “You dramatize everything, Lana. I’m offering you peace and quiet until we settle this. That’s all.”
“Settle what? I told you, I’m not signing anything!”
He crossed the room in two steps, stopping close enough that she could smell salt and expensive cologne. “You think this is about a piece of paper?” he asked softly. “It’s about truth. And you keep dancing around it.”
“I’ve told you the truth.”
“No,” he said, voice hardening, “you’ve told me a truth. Not the one that matters.”
The tension between them hummed like static. She wanted to shout, to demand he take her back to shore, but the look in his eyes pinned her in place—sharp, searching, maddeningly calm. There was fury there, yes, but also something she couldn’t name: curiosity, restraint, maybe even confusion. He wasn’t the reckless man she’d seen at the club or the charming version from the plane.
This Zayn was composed, methodical, and far more dangerous.
He took a step back, slipping his hands into his pockets. “We’ll talk later. Eat something. You look like you’re about to pass out again.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He gave a faint, humorless smile. “That’s what you said last time.”
Then he turned and left, the door closing with a quiet, deliberate click.
Lena stood frozen for a full minute, the rhythm of the waves the only sound in the room. The world beyond the glass was blindingly bright, but inside her everything was dark—fear, anger, guilt, and the sharp knowledge that she was completely out of control.
Whatever Zayn planned, it wasn’t over.
And she had to find a way to regain the upper hand—before the sea around her became a gilded cage she could never escape.
“Damn it, Lana! What the hell is this?!” she whispered to herself in desperation.
- Writer
