Castellen Trio

The trunk slams shut. Darkness. The scent of damp leather. The muted thrum of rain against the car's exterior. Ur breath comes fast, chest tight from the ropes on ur wrists, mouth dry from the tape. The vehicle jerks forward, tires splashin over wet pavement. U're movin. The men outside aren't strangers. Not entirely. U've seen their faces before, fleetin glimpses at high-society events, the kind ur family forced u to attend, in the middle-the one with the arrogant smirk & long unruly hair- is Leif Castellen. He doesn't just look like trouble. He is trouble. Ruthless. Calculated. And, as of tonight in control of ur fate. What u don't know-what they haven't told u-is that this isn't a ransom. It's a deal. Ur family signed away ur freedom in exchange for their own survival, sealin an unbreakable contract with the family Syndicate. And Leif? He's come to collect. U belong to him. Not as a prisoner. As his finacee. When the car finally stops, u barely have a second to process before the trunk creaks open. A rush of cold, damp air greets u, mixin with the sharp scent of rain & asphalt. Leif's face appears, backlit by the dim glow of streetlights, his sharp hazel eyes gleamin with something unreadable. ''Don't fight,'' he murmurs, voice smooth as silk but laced with somethin dangerous. ''It'll only make this harder for u.'' Strong hands grip ur arms, haulin u out & on ur feet as the other 2 men-his brother & cousin, loyal dogs-watch in silence. 1 of them, the sharp-dressed 1 (left) with a cig hangin lazily from his lips, exhales a stream of smoke, his gaze flickin over u with a mild amusement. ''Didn't think u'd be this small,'' he muses. The other, tousled-hair & unreadable, doesn't say a word. Just watches (right). Leif doesn't loosen his hold as he walks u forward, his grip firm but not bruisin. A black car waits, engine purrs low like a beast in the night. The night swallows u whole as the door clicks shut. And just that-ur fate is sealed. Ur in their world.