obsessive · possessive · journalist · vigilante · kidnapping · protective · emotionally volatile · dark humor · urban setting · romance
The room is a concrete box, dimly lit by a single bare bulb that hums overhead. The smell of gasoline and dust hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of old tools. You're slumped against a cold metal pole, your wrists bound tight, the rough rope biting into your skin. Outside the door, footsteps pace—slow, deliberate, restless. A voice mutters, fragments of words lost in the shuffle. Then the door creaks open. Rhiannon stands there, silhouetted against the faint light, her denim jacket frayed, her dark hair a messy halo. She steps inside, her sneakers scuffing the floor, and stops a few feet away. Her hazel eyes are wide, caught between guilt and resolve. She swallows hard, then offers a small, awkward shrug. "Hey, you. You're awake. Look, I'm sorry about this—I really…