Vincent’s heart pounded as he walked through the dimly lit streets, his sharp eyes scanning every direction. He had checked her house twice already—knocked, called, even peeked through the window when no one answered. But Hazel was nowhere to be found.

Something wasn’t right.

His instincts screamed at him, telling him to keep looking. He wouldn’t leave until he knew she was safe. His gaze flickered toward the small coffee shop across from her house. Maybe someone there had seen her.

He crossed the street quickly, pushing open the door. A small bell chimed overhead as he stepped inside. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, but he barely noticed it.

The shop was mostly empty, save for the man behind the counter. Vincent didn’t waste time.

"Did you see the girl from the house across the street? Hazel. Did she go out?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but the urgency slipped through.

The shopkeeper glanced up from the newspaper he had been reading, scratching his chin. "Yeah, I saw her."

Vincent felt a sliver of relief—until the man continued.

"She probably went out with her boyfriend," the shopkeeper said casually.

Vincent's breath hitched. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "What?"

The man shrugged. "Yeah, a rich dude. They have this love-hate thing going on. Last time he came, she acted like she wasn’t interested, but she still went out with him. I think she was just mad at him. But today—"

Vincent stepped closer. "What about today?"

The shopkeeper hesitated, looking at Vincent’s intense expression. But then he sighed and continued.

"This time, they had a fight. He was angry. She didn’t want to go, but he dragged her out."

A sharp, cold sensation ran through Vincent’s veins.

Chris.

It had to be Chris.

The realization slammed into him like a freight train. The thought of Hazel being forced into anything sent a surge of rage burning through his chest.

His jaw clenched as he turned on his heel, storming out of the shop before the man could say anything else.

He barely registered his own movement as he made his way back toward Hazel’s house, trying to piece together the situation.

Chris.

He pulled out his phone, fingers trembling with urgency, and dialed her number.

No answer.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

Vincent inhaled sharply, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

A cold sweat formed on the back of Vincent’s neck. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not to Hazel.

He called again

Still nothing.

Vincent exhaled, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Vincent cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. His mind spun with a mixture of worry and fury.

He had to find her.

Had to stop whatever the hell Chris was trying to do.

Vincent turned and sprinted to his car, shoving his keys into the ignition. His hands gripped the wheel tightly as he peeled out onto the road, his thoughts a whirlwind of fear and determination.

His mind replayed the words the shopkeeper had said.

"She didn’t want to go, but he took her."

His gut twisted.

If Chris had hurt her—if he had done anything—Vincent wouldn’t hesitate.

Because Hazel wasn’t just some girl.

She was his Hazel.

And he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her .

***

Hazel’s body locked up, every nerve ending on fire as she listened—really listened. The air felt thick, suffocating in the pitch-black room. Chris was near. Too near. His breath was steady, calm, in stark contrast to the panic clawing up her throat.

The silence was unbearable.

Then—click.

A dim lamp flickered on, casting eerie shadows around the room. The sight of him, standing just inches away, sent a violent shiver down her spine.

"You're shaking," Chris observed, his voice disturbingly soft.

Hazel swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. "Let me go," she said, forcing as much strength into her voice as she could.

Chris didn’t react immediately. He studied her, his dark eyes unreadable, before he let out a slow, measured sigh. "You always say that," he muttered, as if exhausted.

"Because I mean it," Hazel snapped, stepping back.

His jaw clenched, the slight tic in his expression betraying his control. "And yet, here we are."

Hazel’s hands curled into fists. “You kidnapped me, you psycho! You dragged me here! And you think that means I belong to you?”

Chris let out a humorless chuckle. “It means I’m done playing your games.”

Her stomach twisted. His games? He was the one who had been following her, watching her, taking her against her will.

Chris reached into his pocket, and for a split second, her entire body tensed, expecting the worst.

When his hand emerged, he held something small, something that made Hazel’s blood run cold.

A silk ribbon. Black. Delicate. Familiar.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Chris rolled the black ribbon between his fingers, the silk slipping effortlessly over his skin. His eyes never left Hazel’s.

Her stomach churned. She knew that ribbon. She had stopped wearing it months ago, tossing it into a drawer, hoping to forget the way he had captured her wearing it.  he had sent her pictures from that day—as a gift.

Yet here it was, in his hands.

Chris smirked, as if reading her mind. “You remember this, don’t you?”

Hazel forced herself to stand still, to not let him see the way dread crawled up her spine. “So what?” she shot back. “You stole it. Like everything else.”

Chris sighed, almost disappointed. “Still pretending you don’t understand?” He twirled the ribbon lazily before stepping closer.

Hazel clenched her fists. “I understand perfectly. You’re sick.”

His grip on the ribbon tightened. In one swift motion, he reached out, looping it around her wrist. Hazel tried to yank her arm away, but he held firm.

“You fight so hard,” he murmured, tying the ribbon in a slow, deliberate knot. “But you always end up right where you belong.”

Hazel’s pulse pounded in her ears. The ribbon, soft yet suffocating, burned against her skin.

Chris smiled. “You never really got away from me, Hazel. And you never will.”

Chris moved toward the wardrobe his movements calm, methodical—like a man retrieving something as ordinary as a pair of shoes.

Hazel’s heart pounded as she saw her chance.

She spun on her heels, dashing toward the door, her fingers grasping the handle in desperation. But before she could pull it open, Chris was on her.

His grip was ironclad around her arm, yanking her back with such force that she stumbled.

"Stop it," he snapped, his voice edged with warning.

Hazel struggled, twisting in his grasp. "Let me go!"

Chris didn’t respond. Instead, he threw her onto the bed. She landed with a gasp, her breath knocked from her lungs.

"Stay there," he ordered, his voice sharp, authoritative.

Her body tensed, every muscle screaming at her to get up, to fight, but the deadly look in his eyes made her hesitate.

Chris turned away, walking back to the wardrobe. reaching inside , His fingers curled around something, and when he turned back, he was carrying a set of carefully wrapped bags. He placed them in front of her with an air of finality.

Hazel’s stomach twisted.

"What’s this?" she demanded, her voice tight with apprehension.

Chris tilted his head, watching her reaction as he unzipped the largest bag. Inside was a wedding dress—delicate, beautiful, haunting. The fabric gleamed under the dim lighting.

"Your wedding dress," he said simply.

Hazel’s breath hitched. "What?"

Chris smirked. "We’re getting married tomorrow."

Her entire body stiffened. The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls pressing in. "I’m not marrying you," she stated, her voice firm, laced with defiance.

Chris sighed, as if she had disappointed him. "You are," he said, his tone unyielding.

Hazel shot up from the bed, shoving the dress away from her. "You can’t force me!"

Chris’s eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flickering in them. "I haven’t even begun forcing you, Hazel," he murmured, his voice eerily calm. "Don’t make me show you how much worse I can be when I decide to make you mine."

Hazel’s breath caught in her throat.

Chris gave her one last look before turning away. Without another word, he strode to the door and stepped out, shutting it behind him.

Hazel lunged forward. "No!"

She reached for the door, but before she could yank it open, Chris shoved her back inside, his strength effortless against her resistance. The door slammed shut in her face.

A loud click.

The lock.

Hazel’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she yanked at the handle. "Chris, open the damn door!" she screamed, pounding on it with both fists. "You can’t do this!"

There was no response.

Hazel kept pounding, her hands shaking, but she could already hear his footsteps retreating.

***

Outside, Chris walked down the hallway, her muffled screams fading behind him. His expression remained unreadable, his fingers slipping into his pocket as his phone vibrated.

Vincent.

Chris exhaled slowly before picking up the call. He brought the phone to his ear with a smirk.

"Where is Hazel?" Vincent’s voice was sharp, laced with barely contained anger.

Chris chuckled. "In her soon-to-be husband's hold."

"Chris, don’t you dare force her!" Vincent snapped.

"If she behaves, I won’t have to," Chris replied smoothly.

"I swear to God, I’ll kill you. Just let me reach you—"

Chris smirked. "You don’t have to make the effort for that, Vincent. I’ll bring you to me myself."

Vincent’s breath hitched. "What do you—"

Before he could finish, the street around him exploded into chaos.

Black cars.

Four of them.

They swerved out of nowhere, blocking every possible escape. The screech of tires tore through the night, followed by the sharp, ominous sound of doors swinging open.

Vincent’s pulse spiked. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Something was wrong.

Before he could react—

CRACK!

A heavy strike smashed against his driver-side window, spiderwebbing the glass.

“The fuck—?!” Vincent cursed, jerking back. His instincts screamed at him to move, to get out, to do something.

Too late.

The window shattered entirely with the next blow, shards raining onto his lap.

Figures emerged from the cars—huge, built men, their faces void of any mercy.

Hockey sticks. Iron rods. Steel pipes.

Each of them held something meant to break bones.

Vincent’s blood ran cold.

Before Vincent could do anything, hands wrenched open his car door.

Rough. Brutal. No hesitation.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Vincent shouted, thrashing, but they grabbed him with ease, yanking him out onto the cold pavement.

The night air was thick with tension, gasoline fumes mixing with the scent of sweat and metal.

Vincent barely had time to catch his breath before—

THUD!

A boot slammed into his stomach.

He doubled over, gasping, pain exploding through his ribs.

Then came another hit. And another.

Fists. Boots. Metal.

They didn’t stop.

Each hit sent fresh waves of agony ripping through him, every nerve in his body screaming in protest.

Blood dripped from his forehead, staining the pavement. His vision blurred, dizziness creeping in.

Somewhere in the chaos, his phone buzzed again.

Through the ringing in his ears, a voice finally broke through.

Chris.

“Still breathing, Vincent?”

Vincent spat blood onto the pavement. His body ached, but his fury burned brighter. “You fucking coward,” he growled. “Can’t even face me yourself?”

Chris let out a soft chuckle over the phone.

“Why would I? I can handle you just fine from here.”

Vincent gritted his teeth, gripping his side as another blow landed against his ribs. The pain shot through him like fire.

Chris sighed, almost lazily. “You  made things difficult. It would’ve been so much easier if you just stayed out of this.”

Vincent clenched his fists, forcing himself to stay conscious. “Let Hazel go, Chris,” he bit out. “You don’t get to decide her fate.”

A pause.

Then—Chris’s voice dropped, dark and cold.

“I already did.”

Vincent’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.

Chris continued, his tone light, as if he were discussing the weather. “Tomorrow’s a big day. She going to become my wife, I’d invite you, but I doubt you’ll be in any condition to attend.”

Vincent tried to push himself up, but another kick sent him sprawling back onto the pavement.

Chris hummed. “Hmm. Actually, let’s make sure of that.”

Vincent’s stomach twisted.

Chris’s voice hardened.

“Take him to the warehouse.”

Vincent’s breath hitched.

He barely had time to process before strong hands gripped his arms, dragging him up.

The last thing he saw was the black cars and the cold, expressionless faces of the men surrounding him.

Then—

Darkness.

The trunk slammed shut. The engine roared to life.

Chris ended the call.

“Tomorrow, I make Hazel mine—no matter the cost,” Chris said, his voice laced with chilling determination.

Then, with a dark smirk, he added, “Even if it means she walks down the aisle in shackles.”

Author note: As some of you know, I often fall asleep while thinking about my story. Usually, it happens at night, but today, I ended up dozing off in the afternoon itself! 😅 And guess what? I had an absolutely blasting dream.

I saw myself as Hazel. This marriage scene wasn’t originally in my plans not this soon , but now I have to write it—I can’t control the urge! Since I always imagine myself as my FL, this dream felt so real. It was the best dream ever! I saw Hazel—well, me—running in a wedding dress, trying to escape Chris. And Chris, the same guy from the introduction (image one), was chasing after me in his car. It was so cinematic, like a scene straight out of a movie! 😅😅

I was running. He was after me. And honestly? I loved it. It was thrilling! But just when the moment was perfect, my dad woke me up. 🥲 He almost caught me! Who knows? If I had slept a little longer, I might’ve seen more and gotten even better ideas for the next scene.😅😅lol

Oh, and the funniest part? I had fallen asleep while listening to music, and when I woke up, the song playing was—Run, baby, run! Run for your life! 😅🤣 Could it be any more perfect? ❤

Now, back to business! We need to hit our voting target. Right now, we have 171 views on previous chapter but only 22 votes—not good! So, here’s the deal:
⭐ 35 votes
💬 10 comments (one per reader will be counted)

If you want to experience my dream, go ahead and vote! Let’s bring this scene to life together! 🚀✨