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“No.” The word comes out stronger than I expected. “I’m not playing your sick games anymore.”

His expression darkens, and I see the monster beneath the handsome exterior. “This isn’t optional,Kira.”

“What are you going to do? Drug me again? Force me?” I pull the blanket tighter. “Go ahead. Show me who you really are.”

“I don’t want to force you. I want you to participate willingly.”

“Then you shouldn’t have kidnapped me!” My voice rises, anger temporarily overriding fear. “You can’t kidnap someone and then expect them to ‘participate willingly’ in whatever twisted fantasy you’ve concocted!”

Rykertakes a deep breath, visibly composing himself. “I understand you’re upset?—”

“Upset?” I laugh, the sound harsh and borderline hysterical. “I’m not upset,Ryker. I’m terrified. I’m angry. I’m disgusted. This isn’t a game. This is my life you’ve stolen.”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” he counters, his voice still unnervingly calm. “I’ve given you an opportunity. A chance to experience something beyond your mundane existence.”

“By kidnapping me? By forcing me to strip for you?” The memory makes bile rise in my throat. “That’s not an opportunity. That’s assault.”

His jaw tightens. “You enjoyed it. Your body responded to me.”

“My body responded because I’m human!” I shout, past caring if it angers him. “Bodies respond to stimulation even when the mind doesn’t want it! That’s biology, not consent!”

We stare at each other, the air between us charged with tension.

“Get dressed,” he says finally, his voice clipped. “There are clothes in the closet. I’ll wait outside.”

He turns and strides to the door, his back rigid with tension. At the threshold, he pauses without looking back. “Five minutes. Then I’m coming back in, whether you’re dressed or not.”

The door closes behind him with a soft click. It’s not a slam, which makes it more unnerving.

I gently slide off the bed, wrapping the blanket around me as I approach the closet. Inside, I find replicas of my clothes mixed with items I’ve never seen before, all in the styles I would choose. The attention to detail is as impressive as it is disturbing.

I select jeans and a simple t-shirt, ignoring the lingerie and revealing outfits. As I dress, I scan the room for anything I could use as a weapon. Nothing obvious presents itself—no sharp objects, nothing heavy enough to do damage.

The five minutes pass too quickly. True to his word,Rykeropens the door exactly on schedule. His eyes take in my clothing choice, and I see a flicker of disappointment that I didn’t select something more revealing. Good.

“Let’s go,” he gestures for me to precede him into the hallway.

I consider refusing again but decide to conserve my energy for battles I might actually win. Reluctantly, I step past him into the hallway, which is an exact replica of my apartment building. The attention to detail is nauseating. How many times did he visit my building to get everything so exact?

The kitchen surprises me. Unlike my cramped apartment kitchenette, this spacious chef’s kitchen has gleaming stainless steel appliances and marble countertops.

“Sit.” He points to a barstool at the island where a plate of pancakes waits, steam still rising from the stack. The smell hits me—buttermilk and vanilla—and my traitorous stomach growls despite everything.

I perch on the edge of the stool, as far from him as possible. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to maintain your strength.”Rykerslides the plate closer. “Eat.”

“No.” I push the plate away, a small act of defiance in a situation where I have so little control.

His jaw tightens. Without breaking eye contact, he taps on his phone. The wall-mounted TV flickers to life, displaying what looks like a video game interface. I see my name at the top, beside status bars labeled HEALTH, HYDRATION, and ENERGY.

My health bar hovers at 70%, yellow rather than green.

“Your body needs fuel,Kira.”Ryker’svoice is eerily calm. “Every action has consequences. Every choice affects your stats.”

He taps his phone again, and the HEALTH bar drops to 65%.

“What the hell is this?”