“Help… someone… help me…” Blood trickled down Indie Rose’s forehead, warm and sticky against her skin. Every unsteady step she took left crimson stains on the cold, marble floor. She staggered down the dimly lit hallway, her vision swimming. Her body burned with feverish heat, and every muscle ached like she was being consumed from the inside out. Desperate to escape, she pushed open the door to Room 3006 and stumbled inside. The room was pitch black. The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of her own blood. She didn’t notice the man lying in bed. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the mattress, her body trembling. The man stirred. His sharp, dark eyes snapped open, piercing through the darkness like a predator sensing prey. A woman? A strange, heady fragrance drifted from her clothes, wrapping around him like an invisible thread, pulling him in. It wasn’t just perfume—it was something more potent. Something that stripped away reason. “Hold me…” Indie’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. She reached out, her ice-cold fingers trailing up the man’s neck, her warm breath brushing against his skin. He stiffened. She was soft. Too soft. And the scent of her… intoxicating. The heat spreading through his veins was unnatural, making his blood pulse with an unfamiliar hunger. His fingers traced the sticky warmth on her forehead. Blood. She was injured. His eyes darkened as he wiped the blood from her face. She looked fragile, helpless—like a porcelain doll on the verge of shattering. He hesitated for only a second before reaching for the buttons of her ruined dress. The moment his fingertips grazed her skin, she jolted. Reality crashed into Indie like a tidal wave. Her muddled thoughts sharpened, and horror clawed at her chest. “Let—let me go! Who are you?!” Panic surged through her as she shoved at his chest. But her body was too weak. Her struggle only pressed her closer against him. The man’s patience thinned. His grip on her waist tightened, his voice low and dangerous. “This is my room,” he said coldly. “You climbed into my bed… and now you’re telling me to leave?” Indie’s breath hitched. Before she could speak, he flipped her beneath him, pinning her against the mattress with terrifying ease. The dim glow from the city skyline cast long shadows across the bed. Her heart pounded wildly. She fought. But it wasn’t enough. The last thing she saw before darkness swallowed her whole— —was the cruel smirk on his lips. The next evening When Indie woke, it was past seven. Her entire body ached. The sheets beside her were cold, the room empty. She forced herself out of bed, but the sharp, searing pain between her legs made her gasp. It wasn’t a nightmare. Her hands trembled as she reached for the bathroom sink, twisting the faucet with numb fingers. Cold water splashed against her face, but it did nothing to wash away the truth. Her reflection in the mirror was a stranger. Disheveled hair. Pale skin. Swollen lips. Her throat tightened. “Kaelyn Russell…” she whispered, fury lacing her voice. “You vicious snake.” Last night had been their university graduation party. She’d trusted her best friend. She’d drank the wine Kaelyn had given her. Then, outside the school gates— An ambush. Indie didn’t know how she’d escaped, only that she’d ended up here. But where the hell was Kaelyn now? She grabbed her phone and dialed. No answer. Damn it. She didn’t have time for this. She had a crucial contract to finalize in the morning—a deal with Absolute Beauty’s German investors. If she missed the meeting, it would be over. With no time to waste, she booked a temporary apartment and took a long, scalding shower. By nine, she was out the door. Her meeting was at Infinity Nightclub at 9:30 sharp. Ten minutes later. The club pulsed with blaring music and flashing neon lights. The dance floor was packed—bodies pressed together, lost in the chaos of the night. Indie pushed through the crowd, heading for the private lounge. Her contact, Mr. Carter, had insisted on holding the meeting here. She stepped inside— And immediately regretted it. The air was thick with smoke and alcohol. Foreign businessmen lounged on the velvet sofas, each with a woman draped over him, their garish neon-dyed hair making them look like a pack of tropical birds. Mr. Carter grinned and pulled her further inside. Five minutes later. Indie stormed out, her hair a mess, her blazer hanging off one shoulder. Behind her, the door slammed shut—only to bounce open again, smashing into the nose of the middle-aged man lunging after her. “Indie Rose!” he roared, clutching his bleeding nose. “You little bitch—get back here!” Hatred burned in his bloodshot eyes. “Catch her!” he bellowed at the bodyguards. “Drag that slut back! I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget!” Indie ran. Her heels clacked against the marble floor as she darted down the hallway, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She turned a corner— Misstep. Her ankle twisted, and she crashed to the floor. The footsteps behind her closed in. Shit. Her fingers closed around an abandoned beer bottle. She spun, hurling it straight at the guards. It missed. One of the men sneered. “You think you can run, sweetheart?” The club had fallen silent. The music stopped. The dancers froze. All eyes were on the scene unfolding. Jeers rang out. “Hey, lady, what’s your deal?” “Crazy chick.” Someone whistled. Others laughed. Indie pushed forward, sprinting toward the exit— But her legs gave out. She hit the floor hard, gasping for breath. A shadow loomed over her. Polished black leather shoes. She grabbed onto them like a lifeline. “Please…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Save me.” Blood dripped from her lips. Her face was bruised, one of her teeth missing, her body shaking violently. The man above her was Rowan Gallagher. And he wasn’t the type to meddle in other people’s business. His cold gaze swept over her, his expression unreadable. “Move,” he ordered, lifting his foot as if to shake her off. But she clung tighter. Desperation. Fear. He could feel it in her trembling hands. Her voice wavered. “Sir… if you don’t help me, I’ll be doomed.” Rowan’s irritation flickered in his sharp eyes. “Let go,” he warned, voice like ice. “Or you’ll regret it.” Indie sucked in a shaky breath. She looked up— And under the flashing neon lights, she couldn’t see his face clearly. But something about him—the chiseled jaw, the dangerous air—made her stomach drop. This man was not ordinary. A shiver ran down her spine. “Sir…” she whispered. “If you save me, I’ll do anything for you.” Rowan’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smirk. “It’s you.” His voice was amused. But Indie’s heart clenched. What did he mean by that? _________