Page 10 of Captured By Fate

I snap a quick picture, capturing her spunk and determination in the frame. She tries to turn away, but it's too late. The camera clicks and I send the picture through.

"Hold on," the voice on the other side commands. I do just that, studying her every move as we wait. She wriggles in the chair, testing her bonds with growing desperation.

"She's familiar," the voice notes after what seems like an eternity. An unsettling chuckle reverberates in my ear. "Oh boy, Jackson...you've got yourself into a heap of trouble."

"I'm listening," I urge him to continue.

"Her name's Kelley McLander," he states flatly.

I keep my eyes trained on her. “Thanks,” I mutter, ending the call. I know that name. I know who she is.

“Kelly McLander,” I say, quietly. “The determined reporter.”

Her eyes widen, confirming she is who I accuse her of.

“However, am I going to punish you? We could get Patrick involved…”

My threat hangs in the air. A partial joke, but with undercurrents of truth. She’s afraid of me now.

“P-patrick? But this is just a…a stupid illegal racing club,” she stammers.

I throw my head back and laugh.

Just a racing club, huh?" I mutter, an icy grin taking over my normally impassive features. "You've got no idea what you've walked into."

She swallows hard, her defiance melting under the gravity of the situation. Her fingers twitch against the ropes binding her to the chair, her body stiffening. The sight amuses me, but now is not the time for amusement.

"Patrick... Patrick DeLacroix."

Now it's my turn to spit out a name that curls in the air between us like smoke from a smoldering fire. His name alone carries enough weight to pull down kings and I watch as it does its job, pulling color from her face. The blood drains from her cheeks, leaving a stark fear in those sparkling sienna eyes.

Patrick DeLacroix isn't just a man; he's a beast, and he works for me. And now with Kelley McLander—the persistent reporter—caught under his shadow, there are infinite ways this can go wrong. But, for me, there’s some delight hidden in this chaos.

"Please," she finally whispers, the word barely escaping her lips. "I didn't know..."

"Of course you didn't," I interject swiftly, my boots echoing through the room as I pace around her chair. Yet her plea doesn't move me; I was never known for my mercy. "Ignorance never exempted anyone from consequences, Miss McLander. You’ll be under my supervision from here on out.”

“What?” she screeches. “You can get fucked! You can’t keep me here.”

I chuckle again but ignore her while she continues to berate me. “While your presence is an utter inconvenience to me, I’ll not have you destroying the empire I built.”

She goes nuts, struggling against her bonds, trying desperately to free herself. “This is kidnapping,” she screams. “Let me go! Someone help!”

Her cries echo through the room, as meaningless as the sighing wind outside. I watch as she grapples with the ropes, twisting, turning, her efforts only making the knots dig deeper into her skin. Her defiance amuses me and simultaneously earns my respect.

"You have spirit, Miss McLander," I comment aloud, my tone a curious mix of admiration and annoyance. "But it's not going to help you here."

Sudden anger flares in her eyes. "You bastard!" she hisses again, her voice ragged from shouting. The words hang heavy in the air; a desperate curse from captive to captor.

Her insult draws a genuine laugh from me. My laughter fills the room; it's a dark, threatening sound that seems to bounce off the walls and back at us.

"Ah yes," I muse aloud, grinning devilishly at her. "I've been called that more times than I can count. But it won't change your situation, sweetheart."

Ignoring her furious glare, I continue speaking, my voice cold as ice. "Here's what you need to understand," I drawl, moving closer until I can see the fear dancing in her eyes.

It’s fascinating how expressive those big brown eyes are—like stormy seas trapped within an elegant cage.

"I mean it when I say you're under my supervision," I tell her softly but firmly. "Think of this as… house arrest."

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