Chapter 4 Burned

• The SUV pulled up to a towering skyscraper, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the city’s scattered lights. Sofia barely had time to process her surroundings before Marco’s men stepped out, opening her door with swift, impersonal efficiency.
• “Get out,” one of them ordered, his voice gruff.
• Marco didn’t wait for her to comply. He grabbed her wrist again, his touch firm as he guided her out of the vehicle. Sofia stumbled slightly, her legs unsteady from the ride and the lingering adrenaline. She glanced up at the massive building, feeling dwarfed by its sheer size and ominous presence.
• “Where are we?” she whispered, more to herself than to Marco.
• He ignored the question, his grip unrelenting as he led her inside. The lobby was filled with marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and polished gold accents—luxury dripping from every surface. Sofia felt out of place among the opulence, a stark contrast to the chaotic streets she had just left behind.
• Marco’s presence seemed to dominate the space, and people moved aside with hurried respect as he passed. Sofia caught glimpses of the doorman and staff, each giving quick nods and fearful glances. No one dared to question him.
• The elevator ride was silent, save for the soft hum of the machinery as it ascended. Sofia’s heart pounded with a mix of fear and curiosity—what awaited her at the top? Was this the end of her nightmare, or just the beginning?
• When the elevator doors slid open, they stepped into a dimly lit hallway. The air was colder here, the silence thick and unsettling. Marco didn’t release his grip until they reached a massive wooden door at the end of the corridor. He pushed it open, revealing a luxurious penthouse.
• The interior was stunning—modern furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, and artwork that screamed wealth and sophistication. But despite the elegance, there was a coldness to it, a feeling that the luxury was merely a facade hiding something darker.
• Marco motioned for Sofia to enter. "Come in," he said, his voice calm but authoritative.
• Sofia hesitated, but she knew she had little choice. She stepped inside, her eyes darting around the room, trying to find an escape route or a way to understand what was happening.
• Marco turned to his men, who had followed them up. “Leave us,” he ordered.
• The men exchanged brief glances but obeyed without hesitation, closing the door behind them. The sound of the lock clicking into place sent a shiver down Sofia’s spine.
• Now alone, Marco’s demeanor shifted. His eyes, still dark and intense, seemed to study her with a different kind of focus. There was a strange mix of curiosity and amusement in his gaze, as if he were trying to unravel a mystery.
• Sofia took a step back, her instincts telling her to keep her distance. “What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice shaky but determined.
• Marco didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slowly unbuttoned his coat and draped it over a nearby chair, his movements deliberate. He then walked toward a small bar in the corner of the room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid glowed faintly in the low light.
• “You’re not like the others,” he finally said, his voice low. He took a sip of the whiskey, his gaze never leaving her.
• Sofia frowned, confusion mixing with her fear. “What does that mean?”
• Marco set down the glass and moved closer, his steps slow and measured. “You didn’t run,” he replied simply. “Even when you had the chance.”
• Sofia’s mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. “I was in shock,” she insisted. “That’s all.”
• He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Is that what you tell yourself?” he asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Or are you just curious about the darkness?”
• Sofia’s breath caught, his words hitting a nerve she didn’t want to acknowledge. There had been a moment back in the club—a fleeting, inexplicable thrill when she’d locked eyes with him. But she pushed the thought away, her voice firm.
• “I want to leave,” she said, trying to sound braver than she felt.
• Marco’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And where would you go, Sofia?” he asked, stepping closer. “Back to a safe little life where you pretend the darkness doesn’t exist?”
• She backed away instinctively, her body tensing. “I don’t belong here,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
• Marco’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “You might be right,” he admitted. “But you’re here now.”
• There was a strange, almost dangerous intimacy in his tone, as if he found her presence both fascinating and problematic. Sofia could feel the intensity radiating from him, a magnetic pull she couldn’t fully resist.
• Marco took another step forward, closing the gap between them. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, yet filled with an underlying sense of possession.
• “You should fear me,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerously soft.
• Sofia’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. Every instinct told her to run, to flee from the man standing so close, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of menace and something deeper—something that made her pulse quicken.
• But she didn’t move.
• And that was the most terrifying part.