Page 17 of Impure Vows

Marco’s voice comes through the speakerphone on my desk. “We’ve got eyes on her, Boss. She’s in room 305.”

“Good work,” I reply, my eyes glued to her unsuspecting form. “Make sure she doesn’t slip away again.”

“She won’t,” Marco assures, his tone confident.

“Anything else I should know?” I ask, my voice steady.

“We’ve got the place under surveillance. If she makes a move, we’ll know.”

“Perfect. Keep me updated.”

I end the call and lean back, a smirk playing on my lips. The game is in motion, and she’s the unwitting pawn. She thinks she can run, hide in the shadows of this city. But she’s wrong. I always get what I want.

I click through the photos again, savoring each one. I can already picture her in my mansion, trembling under my gaze, submitting to my every whim. The thought sends a thrill through me, making my blood race.

I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes there’s no escape. When she understands that she belongs to me.

The anticipation is a sweet torture, the thrill coursing through me. I’ve waited this long; I can wait a little longer. After all, the best things in life are worth the wait.

And Aliyah? She’s definitely worth it.

9

ALIYAH

The creaky wooden door of the hostel slams shut behind me, and I exhale a shaky breath. The lobby smells faintly of disinfectant and old carpet. This is the kind of place where people don’t ask questions.

"Checking in?" The bored receptionist barely looks up from his magazine.

"Yeah," I say, trying to sound casual, though my voice wavers slightly. "One night. Under the name... Jane... Doe." I force a smile, hoping he doesn't notice the obvious hesitation. The receptionist's eyes flicker up briefly.

His eyebrow arches but he doesn’t comment. "Cash or card?"

"Cash," I reply, handing over the crumpled bills. I want to avoid leaving a trail.

With a sigh, he hands me the room key. "Room 305, third floor. No pets, no parties," he says flatly. Something tells me I'm not the first Jane Doe he's come across here.

"Thanks," I mutter, grabbing the key and heading for the stairs. Each step creaks, echoing in the dimly lit corridor. Paranoia wraps around me like a suffocating blanket.

I push open the door to Room 305 and lock it behind me. The room is small, with a lumpy bed and a single window overlooking a grimy alley. I drop my bag on the floor and collapse onto the bed, my heart still pounding from the fear that’s been gnawing at me.

The feeling of being watched hasn’t left me. It’s as if those cold eyes are burning holes in the back of my head. I get up and peek through the thin curtains. The alley is empty, but that does nothing to calm my nerves.

Voices drift up from the common area below, snippets of conversations blending into a chaotic hum.

"Did you hear about the new guy?" someone says.

"Yeah, he’s staying in Room 300. Real quiet type," another voice responds.

I tense, my mind racing. Room 300 is just down the hall. I try to remember if I saw anyone suspicious on my way up, but all I recall are blurred faces and my own panicked heartbeat.

"Focus, Aliyah," I whisper to myself. "You can’t fall apart now."

I take a deep breath and decide to go down to the common area. Maybe seeing the other guests will help me figure out if anyone is a threat. The room is filled with mismatched furniture and a few travelers chatting over instant coffee.

I scan the faces, trying to seem nonchalant. The hum of low conversation and clinking cups fills the air, but I keep my focus sharp. My eyes land on a man with dark hair sitting in the corner, his face partially obscured by a newspaper. His presence feels off, almost too deliberate. My pulse quickens as I try to decipher if he's watching me or simply absorbed in the news.

"Hey, you okay?" A girl with pink hair and a nose ring approaches me. Her eyes are kind, but I can’t afford to trust anyone.

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