Elena’s POV:
If I had to describe my current situation in one word, it would be infuriating.
The more I tried to escape, the more Ace beca romantic.
I swear, it was like every failed attempt just made him more patient, more attentive, more charming—which only made hate him more.
And he knew it.
The bastard enjoyed it.
It was my third day here when I realized that my bedroom had a balcony.
A tall one.
With no stairs.
But still—better than nothing.
I had spent hours mapping out the guards’ rotations, waiting for the mont they were furthest from my room. The balcony was my best bet—a long drop, but if I could use the vines on the wall to climb down, I’d have a chance.
I had made it halfway down before a pair of strong arms yanked back up.
Ace.
"You’re determined," he had murmured, amusent in his voice as he effortlessly pulled back onto the balcony. "I like that."
I shoved him. Hard.
He barely moved.
He smirked, catching my wrist before I could slap him. "But you’ll hurt yourself trying to get away like this, little pet. We can’t have that."
I glared at him, breathing heavily, refusing to let him see my panic.
I would not let him win.
Not now.
Not ever.
He sighed as if this was nothing but a mild inconvenience, then lifted into his arms before carrying back inside.
The next morning, I woke up to find the balcony doors locked shut.
And on my bedside table?
A single red rose.
A fucking rose.
Was he mocking ?
By the end of the first week, I had a new plan.
The security around was airtight. No windows, no open doors, no loose screws or vents I could squeeze through.
But there was one weakness—when Ace took to dinner.
Every evening, like clockwork, he would co to my room, dressed in his annoyingly perfect dark suits, offer his hand, and take to dinner.
It was always so extravagant setting—a candlelit dining room, an outdoor terrace under the stars, once even a freaking ballroom with a chandelier straight out of a fairy tale.
I hated how beautiful it all was.
I hated how he watched , studying my every move, every expression.
I hated how he was patient.
Never forceful. Never demanding.
Just waiting.
And worst of all?
He never locked up.
Never tied down.
Just let roam freely within the walls of his palace-like prison, like a queen in a golden cage.
So that night, I decided to test his limits.
As we sat at a candlelit table, I slowly reached for my steak knife.
I was careful.
Casual.
Just a small movent, curling my fingers around the smooth handle, bringing it closer to my lap—
"Are you going to stab , little pet?"
I froze.
Ace was watching , amusent flickering in his dark eyes as he sipped his wine.
The bastard knew.
I gritted my teeth. "Maybe."
He set his glass down and leaned forward, his gaze intense, his lips twitching in the ghost of a smirk.
"Then do it."
I gripped the knife tighter.
He spread his arms, exposing his chest, like he was daring . Taunting .
My pulse pounded in my ears.
What was his ga?
Why was he acting like this?
I could feel his power from across the table.
He wasn’t a normal rogue. He was sothing else.
Sothing dangerous.
And yet, he was letting do this.
I lifted the knife slightly, watching his eyes flicker to it.
Daring .
Taunting .
I wanted to plunge it straight into his smug, arrogant chest—but sothing in the way he looked at told he already knew I wouldn’t.
I exhaled sharply and set the knife down.
His smirk widened.
Bastard.
The next morning, there was another rose waiting for .
By the second week, I realized sothing important.
Ace wasn’t just watching .
He was studying .
Every ti I failed to escape, he learned sothing new about .
What I was willing to risk.
How far I would go.
What I was capable of.
And he wasn’t stopping .
He was enjoying it.
So this ti, I planned carefully.
I had managed to swipe a small vial of sleeping herbs from the kitchen when his guards weren’t looking.
It wasn’t poison, but it was strong enough to knock out a wolf for hours.
If I could slip it into his drink, I’d have enough ti to search for an escape route.
So that evening, when Ace led to another fancy dinner, I played along.
I smiled.
I laughed.
I even let him brush his fingers over mine when he handed my wine glass.
And just as he looked away for a second, I poured the vial’s contents into his drink.
I forced myself to act normal, lifting my own glass to my lips as I watched him take his first sip.
And then—
He stopped.
I froze.
Ace’s eyes lifted to mine, sharp and knowing.
I felt my stomach drop as he set his glass down.
He exhaled. "You never give up, do you?"
My hands clenched into fists.
And then, to my horror—
He switched our glasses.
And drank mine instead.
I stared at him in shock.
I swallowed hard, unsure how to react as he leaned back in his chair, studying with sothing almost amused.
"Clever," he murmured, rolling the wine glass between his fingers. "But not clever enough."
I gritted my teeth. "Why are you keeping here?"
His expression shifted.
For a mont, sothing dark flashed in his eyes, but then it was gone.
He exhaled softly. "Because I want to know you."
I blinked. "What?"
Ace’s lips curled slightly as he reached for his own wine glass—the one I had poisoned—and pour it to the floor, completely unfazed.
"I want to know everything about you, Elena." His voice was smooth, dangerous, intoxicating. "Your thoughts, your dreams, your fears, your desires."
My breath caught in my throat.
The way he said it—so calm, so certain—it made my pulse skip.
I clenched my jaw. "And what if I don’t want to know you?"
Ace chuckled, setting his glass down before rising from his chair.
He slowly walked toward , and I had to force myself not to flinch as he leaned down, his hand brushing over my cheek.
"Then I’ll have to change your mind."
I glared up at him. "You’ll fail."
His smirk widened.
"Then let’s make a ga of it, little pet."
I hated him.
But I hated myself more for the way my body flitch to his touch. I did want him to think I was scared of him.
Because Ace?
Ace was dangerous.
And he was winning.
The next morning, there was another rose waiting for .
*****
The stupid guy had a Jacuzzi.
And, of course, he had to show it off.
The mont Ace walked into my room that evening, holding a bathing suit in one hand and a smirk on his stupidly perfect face, I knew I was in for so bullshit.
"What’s this?" I asked, crossing my arms as I glared at the tiny piece of fabric dangling from his fingers.
Ace tilted his head, all mock innocence. "A gift."
I narrowed my eyes. "For what?"
He shrugged. "I thought you’d appreciate sothing relaxing after all your... recent frustrations."
Frustrations?
He ant my multiple escape attempts.
Bastard.
I snatched the swimsuit from his hand and inspected it. A black bikini—of course.
"How about you take your ’gift’ and shove it—"
Ace sighed, already expecting my resistance. "Co on, little wolf. Just one evening. No fights. No gas."
I snorted. "Everything with you is a ga."
He chuckled. "That’s why you like ."
"I hate you."
"That too."
I wanted to throw the swimsuit at his smug face, but at the sa ti, I was tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of watching his every move.
Tired of feeling trapped.
Maybe one evening without fighting would help think.
Maybe I could play along—just enough to learn more about him.
So, I sighed dramatically. "Fine."
His smirk widened. "Good girl."
I almost threw the bikini at him.
I’ll admit it—the Jacuzzi was heaven.
The hot water eased the tension in my muscles, and for the first ti in weeks, I felt a little lighter.
Ace sat across from , his arms stretched out along the rim of the tub, watching with that infuriating smirk. He was shirtless, and I hated that I noticed the way the warm light highlighted his toned chest.
Hated that he looked so relaxed, like he hadn’t kidnapped and locked in his mansion-palace-fortress-whatever.
"I was expecting more resistance," he mused.
I rolled my eyes. "Trust , I still have so left."
He chuckled. "Of course you do."
I leaned back, sighing. "Why are we here, Ace?"
His smirk faded slightly. "Because I want you here."
I turned to him. "That’s not an answer."
He exhaled. "It’s the only one I have."
I studied him carefully.
This was different.
His usual cocky arrogance was still there, but this ti, there was sothing softer beneath it. Sothing almost... vulnerable.
It threw off.
"Are you always this cryptic?" I asked.
He tilted his head. "Are you always this difficult?"
I smirked. "That’s why you like ."
He chuckled. "Maybe."
For a mont, the air between us shifted.
I hated it.
I hated that he wasn’t acting like the usual overconfident rogue. That he wasn’t goading , wasn’t trying to be superior.
I hated that, for the first ti, I didn’t feel like his prisoner—just a girl in a Jacuzzi with a guy she should absolutely despise.
I shook off the thought.
Focus, Elena.
You are here to study him. To find a weakness.
I cleared my throat. "You ever going to let go?"
His jaw tensed, but his expression remained neutral.
"No."
No hesitation. No lies.
I swallowed hard. "Why?"
Ace leaned in slightly, his voice lower, more serious.
"Because the mont I let you go, Kane will take you back."
Sothing in the way he said it made my stomach twist.
Not because he was wrong—but because he sounded like he was protecting from Kane, not keeping prisoner.
I frowned. "And that’s a bad thing because...?"
Ace’s eyes darkened.
"You don’t know what Kane is capable of," he said quietly.
I scoffed. "I know exactly what he’s capable of."
Ace shook his head. "No, you don’t."
I hated that his words sent a shiver down my spine.
Hated that, for just a second, I questioned whether or not he was telling the truth.
I glared at him. "You act like you’re any better."
"I don’t."
His honesty stunned into silence.
For a mont, we just sat there, the water rippling between us, the heat making my skin flush.
I hated this.
Hated the way he looked at —like he actually cared.
Like I was his to protect.
Like I was his.
I needed to remind myself that this was just another ga.
I had to get out of here.
I had to run.
But deep down, a terrifying thought whispered:
What if I don’t want to?
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