Hazel’s heart slammed against her ribs. The car jerked forward the second chris stepped on the accelerator, his grip on the wheel tight, knuckles ghostly white. The roar of the engine swallowed the silence between them, but the real storm was inside the car—inside Chris’s head.

“Stop the car!” Hazel’s voice cut through the air, sharp with panic. “Chris—STOP!”

No response.

His gaze was locked ahead, eyes dark, burning. He didn’t even glance at her, as if she wasn’t thrashing in the passenger seat, as if she wasn’t clawing at her seatbelt like it was strangling her.

Her breathing turned ragged. She reached for his arm, nails digging into his skin. “Chris! Are you listening to me? Pull over!”

Nothing.

The world outside blurred into streaks of headlights and shadows. The tires screeched as he took a turn too fast, sending Hazel’s stomach lurching. A sickening dread curled around her spine.

This wasn’t just anger.

This was something worse.

“Goddamn it, stop chris” Hazel shook his shoulder with all her strength, but he didn’t even flinch. His jaw was locked, his fingers twitching against the wheel. The only sign he had heard her at all was the slight tick in his temple—a warning.

Hazel didn’t care.

“I said STOP!” she screamed, slamming her hands against the dashboard.

That got a reaction.

Chris’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel. His breath came out sharp, ragged, but still, he didn’t slow down. If anything, the car surged forward, eating up the road like a beast unleashed.

Hazel’s hands trembled.

She had seen him mad before. She had seen him possessive, unyielding.

But this?

This wasn’t just possessiveness.

This was destruction.

She had to stop him.

Her gaze snapped to the gear shift. If she could just reach it—maybe yank it into neutral, maybe—

A hand clamped around her wrist, vice-like, unrelenting.

“Don’t,” Chris growled, his voice low, vibrating with a fury barely restrained.

Hazel’s pulse hammered. His grip was searing, fingers pressing into her skin like a warning—like a promise of what would come if she pushed him any further.

She yanked her hand free, chest heaving. “You’re going to get us killed!”

Chris finally looked at her.

It was worse than silence.

His eyes were unreadable, but the storm inside them was unmistakable. It wasn’t rage alone—it was betrayal. Something cracked, something deep, something that made Hazel’s stomach sink.

But she didn’t have time to think about it.

Because the speedometer was climbing.

Because the world outside was turning into a blur of lights and shadows.

Because Chris wasn’t stopping.

Something inside Hazel snapped.

She lunged for the steering wheel.

The second her fingers wrapped around it, Chris’s reaction was immediate.

“HAZEL, LET GO!” His voice thundered inside the car, but she didn’t listen.

She yanked the wheel.

The car veered violently. Tires screamed. The world tilted.

Chris snarled, fighting her grip, his hand slamming over hers, trying to rip the wheel back into his control.

“LET GO!” His voice was raw, furious.

Hazel gritted her teeth. “NOT UNTIL YOU STOP!”

The car swerved again. Headlights from the opposite lane flashed like angry warnings. A horn blared—a deafening, metallic scream as a truck barreled past them, missing them by inches.

The car jolted.

Hazel let out a sharp gasp as the force sent her slamming back into her seat.

Chris cursed under his breath, gripping the wheel, steadying it, his chest rising and falling in harsh, ragged breaths.

For a split second, there was silence.

Then—

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” His voice exploded, raw with fury.

Hazel barely had time to recover before he reached for her.

His fingers tangled in her hair, dragging her face toward his, his breath hot, furious. “You wanna die, Hazel?” His voice was quiet now—too quiet, too sharp, slicing through her like a blade.

Hazel swallowed, but she refused to look away. “If it means getting away from you—maybe.”

Chris’s eyes darkened.

A deadly, quiet moment passed.

Then—without warning—he jerked the car to the side of the road.

The tires skidded against gravel, the force sending Hazel forward. Her seatbelt caught her, cutting into her skin as the car screeched to a sudden stop.

Panting, she tried to rip the belt off, but he was faster.

He turned to her, hands gripping the sides of her seat, caging her in. His breaths were uneven, his chest rising and falling as if he was barely restraining himself.

“You think this is a game?” His voice was low, lethal.

Hazel’s nails dug into the seat. “You’re the one playing games, Chris!” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “Dragging me into your sick obsession, driving like a goddamn maniac—”

His fingers suddenly wrapped around her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

“Shut. Up.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Hazel’s pulse pounded against her throat.

He exhaled slowly, as if trying to steady himself. His thumb brushed over her cheek—not gentle, not soft. Possessive. Claiming.

“You don’t get to leave me,” he murmured. “Ever.”

Hazel’s breath stuttered.

“I hate you,” she whispered, voice trembling.

His lips curled into something cruel. “Good.”

And then, before she could react, before she could shove him away—

He kissed her.

But it wasn’t a kiss.

It was punishment.

It was dominance.

It was a silent warning—one she could taste, one that burned into her bones.

Hazel gasped against his lips, hands pushing at his chest, but he didn’t move. His grip tightened, swallowing her struggle, swallowing everything.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes burned into hers—dark, wild, unrelenting.

“You’re mine, Hazel,” he whispered, breath ghosting against her lips. “No one else’s.”

Hazel’s chest heaved. “You can’t keep me locked in your madness, Chris”

His smirk was slow, dangerous. “I will”

Hazel’s breath hitched.

Chase let go of her slowly, his fingers trailing down her arm, leaving behind a searing heat.

Then—just like that—he sat back, hands gripping the wheel again.

The engine roared back to life.

Hazel’s stomach twisted.

“Chris”

He didn’t look at her. Didn’t speak.

But his eyes in the mirror?

They said everything.

He pressed down on the accelerator.

And the car surged forward.

***

Vincent pulled up outside Hazel’s house, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced at the bouquet resting on the passenger seat.

He grabbed the bouquet and stepped out, excitement humming in his chest. He could already imagine the way Hazel’s eyes would light up when she saw him.

Reaching her front door, he pressed the doorbell, stepping back slightly as he waited.

Nothing.

Vincent frowned. Hazel was always quick to answer. He rang again, longer this time.

Still nothing.

His smile faltered as he shifted the bouquet in his hand.

He raised his hand to knock, but as soon as his knuckles touched the door, it creaked open.

His entire body tensed.

The door was unlocked? Hazel never left her door open.

Vincent hesitated for a second before pushing it open wider. The house was dimly lit, the quiet unsettling.

"Hazel?" he called out, stepping inside. His voice echoed slightly in the empty space.

Silence.

A strange feeling twisted in his gut. Something was off.

He walked further in, glancing around. The living room was in perfect order—nothing broken, no signs of a struggle.  Hazel was nowhere in sight.

His fingers clenched around the bouquet as he moved deeper into the house.

"Hazel?" His voice was sharper this time, more urgent.

No reply.

He stepped toward her bedroom, the door slightly ajar. His pulse pounded as he nudged it open.

Empty.

His gaze flickered to the bed, where something caught his attention—her phone.

Lying right there, screen dark.

Vincent's heart dropped. Hazel never went anywhere without her phone.

His fingers hovered over it before he exhaled sharply, stepping back.

Where she went… without her phone?

His chest tightened as he moved through the house again, checking the bathroom, the kitchen, even the balcony. Nothing.  no sign of where she had gone.

He gripped the bouquet, his knuckles turning white.

"Where are you, Hazel?" he muttered, a sinking dread clawing at his insides.

***

Hazel’s pulse thundered in her ears as Chris dragged her inside. His grip was unyielding, fingers wrapped around her wrist like a shackle. She twisted, pulled, tried to dig her heels into the floor, but he was stronger. The door slammed shut behind them, sealing her inside his world.

He finally let go, shoving her forward. She stumbled, catching herself just in time, her wide eyes scanning the dimly lit space. The air smelled like him—clean, sharp, and something faintly intoxicating.

Her gaze darted around. The living room was neat, almost unnervingly so. But it was the walls that made her stomach lurch.

Photographs. Everywhere.

Framed pictures, polaroids, even candid shots pinned to a board. All of her. Smiling, laughing, walking to work, sitting at a café. Some from places she didn’t even realize he had been. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked onto one—her sleeping form, curled up in bed.

A shudder ran down her spine.

She spun around. “Where am I?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Chris smirked. “Home.”

She shook her head violently. “No. No, this isn’t—”

Chris tilted his head, studying her. “You always fight me, Hazel. Always. Even when I try to be patient, even when I try to be good for you.” His eyes darkened. “But you left me no choice.”

Her chest tightened. “What… What do you mean?”

He stepped closer again, the air between them vanishing. One hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face with terrifying tenderness. “I wanted to make you mine the right way,” he murmured. “But you never saw it. You never saw me.”

Hazel’s breath hitched.  She forced the words out, hoping to calm him. “Chris, I—”

“Too late,” he cut in, his fingers sliding to her jaw, tilting her face up to his. “You should’ve let me love you the easy way.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Chris—”

Chris dragged Hazel inside, his grip on her wrist unyielding. She stumbled forward, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The moment they reached a room, he shoved the door open and threw her inside.

Hazel barely caught herself before falling. She spun around, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Why did you bring me here?" she demanded, her voice shaking despite her attempt to sound strong.

Chris locked the door behind him, his eyes dark, intense. "Because this is your place," he said, his tone dangerously calm. "Right where you belong."

Her stomach twisted. "I don’t belong here," she shot back, taking a step away from him.

His lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes held something deeper—something terrifying. "You do."

He stepped toward her, and instinctively, she moved back, her pulse spiking. But before she could put any more distance between them, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, yanking her close.

Even with the fear gripping her, Hazel could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension between them suffocating.

Chris exhaled slowly, as if trying to calm himself, but the storm in his eyes remained.

"You should’ve just listened, Hazel." His voice was softer now, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable. "Now, I have to make sure you never leave me again."

Her blood ran cold.

Before she could react, before she could even think to escape—

The lights went out.

A scream caught in Hazel’s throat as the room plunged into darkness.

And then—she felt him move.

Hazel’s stomach dropped.

He leaned in, whispering against her skin, “No more running."

To be continued...