Page 15 of Doomed

What the hell?

“Come on,” I mutter, pulling out my phone to check the time. Almost one in the morning. I could call an Uber, but the surge pricing will be ridiculous.

A third taxi approaches. I step further into the street, waving both arms now. The driver makes eye contact, then deliberately looks away, accelerating past me.

“Are you kidding me?” I shout after it.

The streets are emptying now, leaving me increasingly alone. A knot of unease tightens in my stomach. Maybe I should call that Uber after all?—

Warm hands suddenly grip my hips from behind. I freeze as breath tickles my neck.

“Need a ride?”

Knox’s voice sends electricity down my spine. I rip away from his grasp, whirling to face him. My heart hammers against my ribs as I fumble in my purse, fingers closing around the small canister of mace I always carry.

“Back off,” I warn.

Knox’s eyes widen for a split second before his mouth curls into that infuriating smirk. Before I can press the nozzle, his hand clamps around my wrist, squeezing hard enough to make my fingers go numb. The mace drops to the sidewalk with a clatter.

“That’s not very nice,” he says. “And here I was, offering to help you.”

I try to wrench free, but he holds fast. “Let. Go.”

He studies me with that same intensity from the gallery. “You’re not having much luck with those cabs, are you?”

I stare at Knox’s smug expression, the pieces suddenly clicking into place. The taxi driver made direct eye contact,only to drive past. The way the street emptied so quickly. The convenient timing of his appearance.

“You had something to do with this, didn’t you?” I narrow my eyes. “The taxi drivers are ignoring me. That was your doing.”

His smile widens, neither confirming nor denying.

“Michelle told me how your family operates—how you practically run this town.” I tug at my wrist again, but his grip remains firm. “What did you do? Pay off every cab driver in the area to ignore me?”

Knox tilts his head, studying me like I’m a particularly interesting piece of art. “You’re smart, princess. I like that about you.” He steps closer. “Let’s say people in this city know better than to poach what belongs to a Blackwood.”

“I don’t belong to you, and I’m not a princess,” I hiss, anger flaring hot in my chest.

“Not yet,” he says. “But the night is young.”

I glance around, realizing how isolated we are on this empty street. No witnesses. No passing cars. Just me and this dangerous man who orchestrated the whole situation.

“This is kidnapping,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady.

“Kidnapping?” Knox laughs, the sound rich and genuine. “I’m offering you a ride home. How is that kidnapping?”

I take a deep breath and wrench my wrist from his grip, stepping back to assess my options. Knox still has that smirk on his face, clearly enjoying how helpless I am. I place my hands on my hips and observe him. He knows he’s won this round.

“You planned this,” I say.

“I prefer to think of it as creating an opportunity.” He gestures toward the empty street. “So, what’s it going to be, princess? Walk home alone in those pretty heels, or accept my generous offer?”

I look down at my feet wrapped in the strappy black stilettos Michelle convinced me to wear. They’re already pinching mytoes, and the thought of walking five blocks makes my arches ache in protest.

“Where’s your car?” I ask.

Knox’s laugh is low and rich. “No car tonight.” He points to a sleek motorcycle parked in the shadows—neon blue with red accents gleaming under the streetlights. “Hope you’re not afraid of a little adventure.”

I sigh heavily, weighing my limited options. Call an Uber and wait alone on this deserted street? Try to walk home on these torture devices that Michelle calls shoes? Or climb onto the back of a motorcycle with a man who’s basically a stranger—a dangerous stranger who orchestrated this entire situation?