Cyprian's Pov
I trembled, every muscle tight with confusion and fear. I felt uncomfortable—wrong. I'd never been carried like this. Never thought I ever would be. Even if I fainted, I should have been slung over the back like a man—not carried in arms like a child. Or worse—like a girl.
Yet that demon—the one I had tried over and over to rebuke after Luca—was somehow making me lean into his chest. His chest was solid. I could hear his heartbeat—steady, slow, unmoved. It felt like resting against a wall. Quiet. Deadly.
The two girls—Nina and Rukky—were being dragged away, their screams slicing through the cold air.
"Cyprian!" Nina cried again, her voice breaking apart as she reached for me.
I opened my mouth to answer her—but nothing came out. The pain swallowed me. The fear swallowed me.
And worse than both—his scent.
Thick. Choking. Rain-soaked smoke. Burnt coffee. Doom itself, pressed close to my skin, thick in my lungs, sickening in my head.
The heavy warehouse doors screeched as they were shoved open. The cold air rushed in, brushing against my sweat-soaked face. Outside, the sun stretched wide and high over a line of black vehicles—Hilux, old cars behind them, engines growling like something alive.
The acid in my stomach felt like it was eating me from the inside. But none of it mattered because the girls were gone—torn away—still screaming as they were shoved into the back seat of one of the waiting cars.
I wanted to move. I wanted to fight for them. I wanted to do something—anything.
But I couldn't.
My body gave way completely as Black Tiger's arms closed around me tighter. He carried me to another car—a black Range Rover.
The door was opened by one of his men, and I was shoved inside. The soft slam behind me was quiet—final.
And just like that, the distance between me and the girls grew.
The engines rumbled. The air held still, heavy with something unspoken.
And the door shut.
They were not going to make the mistake of letting my hands free again—I could tell. The moment the car started, Jide blindfolded me and taped my mouth shut.
I said the Hail Mary and Our Father in my head while tears slipped silently down my cheeks.
I'll find a way to leave this place—or die trying, I swore.
"Jesus," I prayed, my thoughts trembling. If you can see me from heaven, now's the time. I really, really need you to help me.
The car jerked to a halt after what couldn't have been more than five minutes. I was dragged out and forced up a flight of stairs. My stomach throbbed where Jide had kicked me earlier, sharp and burning, like something inside had torn. Each step jarred the pain deeper.
At the top, we turned down a hallway. Then a door creaked open, and I was shoved inside and thrown onto what felt like a bed. My heart was pounding so loud I couldn't hear anything else.
I was pulled upright and tied to the bedposts like some kind of ritual animal. The blindfold stayed on. So did the tape.
The only thing that changed was the surface beneath me—springy, old, and unfamiliar.
My heart galloped in my chest. I began to regret never having had sex—not out of love, not even curiosity. Just once. With someone gentle. Someone not like… them.
The idea that one of these men could be my first—could take that part of me—made my stomach twist worse than the ulcer did. I would never forgive myself if that happened.
"God, please," I whispered through my nose. Please help me.
I cried.
I don't know for how long. The pain, the fear, the shame—they all mixed into one long stretch of time I couldn't name. My wrists ached from the ropes. My back was starting to sweat.
Then I heard the door open.
Footsteps. Measured. Calm.
Not Jide. Someone heavier, more deliberate.
My body tensed. My fingers gripped the bedsheets.
And then I smelled him.
Expensive cologne. Smoke. Something wilder underneath—like cedarwood and clean sweat. It crawled into my nose and stayed there.
My heart skipped a beat.
He stopped at the side of the bed. I felt the mattress shift beneath his weight. The heat of him reached me before he even touched me.
And when he finally did—just his fingers brushing my arm—I flinched hard. A quiet sob escaped me.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to disappear.
But something in me also… froze. His touch was too careful. Too gentle. It didn't fit the man I'd seen before—the one with the gun, the orders, the ice in his voice.
The blindfold came off slowly.
Light filtered in—yellow, warm, dim. I blinked hard against it. When my eyes finally adjusted, they met his.
Black Tiger.