In the Clutches of Darkness

Gabriel's POV

Having secured Amelia in my possession, a sense of triumph surged within me. She was my angel, and nothing would stand in my way of claiming her. Last night had been excruciating, watching her kiss that insignificant jerk, but I had taken advantage of her momentary absence and seized my opportunity.

As I entered her room, her form stirred on the bed. Those enchanting eyes, heavy with uncertainty, met mine. Her voice, soft and tremulous, inquired about her whereabouts, and her words were a melody I had longed to hear. Her mere presence invoked a storm of emotions within me, yet it was her defiance that ignited my anger—calling me a psychopath, daring to defy me.

Her attempt to flee had only escalated my fury, and my hand had met her cheek in a stinging slap. In that moment, her tears and vulnerability only fueled my resolve. She was mine, and she would learn her place. My instructions for breakfast had been clear; I awaited her in the dining room, ready to set the tone for what was to come.

As she timidly descended the stairs, her attire was simple yet elegant, accentuating her beauty. Her red, puffy eyes betrayed her earlier turmoil. A pang of guilt fluttered within me at the sight, but I crushed it quickly—she needed to understand that disobedience came at a cost.

"Angel, look at me and take a seat," my voice was firm, authoritative. I could see the apprehension in her gaze as she met my eyes and obeyed my command. Her demeanor was that of a meek servant, and I loathed it. She was meant to embrace her role, willingly or not.

I could hardly tolerate her eating like a lifeless puppet, wasting the specially prepared meal. "Eat, angel. I don't want any of this to be wasted," I reprimanded, my irritation evident. She began to eat, her hands trembling slightly. It was evident that my presence, my power over her, was overwhelming.

After some time, I chose to reveal my plan, one that had been brewing since the moment I laid eyes on her. "Angel, when you finish eating, pack your clothes. We're leaving for Paris in a few hours," I declared matter-of-factly.

Shock painted her features, and I could hear the panic in her voice as she protested. "Why... why are we going there? Please... I don't want to go. I... I want to go back home."

I leaned forward, my gaze piercing through her. "My business in Paris requires my attention. I need to oversee everything there, and I refuse to be separated from you. Whether you accept it or not, your wishes are inconsequential. You're going with me, and that's final."

Her protests continued, but I quashed them swiftly. "No 'buts,' angel. I don't tolerate defiance. Disobey me, and the consequences will be dire." My resolve was unwavering, my patience running thin. She hurried off to her room, her steps a silent testament to her distress. I watched her leave, the corners of my lips curling into a sinister smile. In a few days, she would understand that resistance was futile, and she would adapt to the life I had planned for us.

Amelia's POV

Sitting on the bed in the room, my tears flowed freely, a testament to my helplessness and despair. The idea of being taken to Paris against my will was unbearable. I longed to return home, to be with my family and Mark. My sobs echoed through the room, my emotions unraveling like a torrential storm. I was 18 years old, yet in that moment, I felt like a child, overwhelmed by my circumstances.

As my cries subsided, a thought emerged—the possibility of using a cellphone to reach out for help. I began searching the room, desperate for any means of communication. However, my efforts were in vain; there was no gadget in sight that could provide a lifeline to the outside world. It seemed that escape was futile, at least for the moment.

Resigned, I decided to comply and began packing my belongings. The prospect of Gabriel's wrath compelled me to obey his instructions. My only hope was that once we reached the airport, I might have a chance to escape, to find someone who could help me.

As we sat in the backseat of the car, en route to the airport, my discomfort intensified. The proximity between us was unnerving. The moment his hand landed on my thigh, I flinched, ready to remove it, but his grip tightened, silencing any resistance. His words sent a chill down my spine—he claimed ownership over me, justifying his invasive touch with a sinister smirk.

I sighed, diverting my gaze to the passing scenery, a facade to hide my turmoil. Thoughts of my mother's worry consumed me, and I wished I could reassure her that I was safe. The anxiety clawed at my chest, gnawing at my courage.

The arrival at the airport sparked a flicker of hope within me. The sight of security guards seemed like an opportunity to escape, a chance to break free from Gabriel's grasp and seek help. Before I could act on this impulse, his hand clamped down on mine with a painful grip, his warning chilling my intentions. I felt certain that his harsh grip would leave a bruise.

"Don't even dare to do that. Anyway, they won't even help you; they know who I am," he cautioned, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. My heart sank at his words, realizing the extent of his control and influence. I was trapped, and the notion of finding aid from the guards evaporated before it could take hold.

His firm grip propelled me towards his private jet, where he practically shoved me inside. I took a moment to collect myself as I settled into a seat, feeling numb from the ordeal. But my solitude was short-lived as Gabriel entered the plane and took a seat beside me.

As the plane took off, a sense of unease accompanied my discomfort. This was my first time on a flight, and the unfamiliar sensation of ascending into the sky added to my anxiety. Suddenly, Gabriel's actions caught me off guard—he rolled me from my seat and seated me on his lap. Instinctively, I placed my hands on his chest to steady myself, preventing a fall onto the cabin floor. His arm wound around my waist, holding me firmly in place.

His closeness made my skin crawl, and I tried to shift away, but his grip tightened, anchoring me against him. His words brushed against my ear, complimenting my appearance in a way that made my discomfort intensify. His warm breath brushed against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I clenched my fists, my heart racing as I suppressed my unease.

Before I could react further, his lips captured mine in a kiss that I couldn't escape. It felt intrusive, violating, and yet, against my will, my body responded with a surge of sensations that I couldn't ignore. I struggled against his hold, attempting to break free from the kiss, but he only tightened his grip on my waist.

His tongue invaded my mouth, and I gasped for air, a mixture of fear and revulsion churning within me. The kiss finally ended, leaving both of us panting for breath. Tears stung my eyes, a mixture of humiliation and anger bubbling up within me. How could he take advantage of me like this?

The weight of my predicament crashed down on me, my emotions spiraling into turmoil. I was trapped with a man who saw me as a possession, a plaything to satisfy his desires. I wished I could cry out, escape from his clutches, but my voice felt stifled by fear and the growing realization that I was in danger.

"Angel, sleep on my lap. We'll arrive in a few hours, and I don't want you exhausted," he commanded calmly. His gaze dared me to defy him, leaving me with no choice. I begrudgingly laid my head on his chest, my thoughts conflicted and my heart heavy. He enveloped me with his arms, his forehead meeting mine, a gesture that I cringed away from.

His lips pressed against my forehead, and I suppressed a shudder. Closing my eyes, I sought solace in the thoughts of my family and Mark, yearning for a world where I wasn't a captive in the arms of a man consumed by obsession.