The mall was alive with weekend shoppers, the steady hum of conversations blending with the faint beat of pop music playing over the speakers. The scent of fresh pretzels and perfume mixed in the air, and for a moment, everything was normal.

Serenity Monroe stood near a rack of oversized sweaters, her fingers grazing the soft fabric, her mind elsewhere. She wasn’t a big fan of shopping, but her best friend Maya had insisted. You’re about to start college, Sera. Let’s get you some new clothes. Something cute.

She hadn't protested. She never did.

As her friends giggled and rummaged through clothes, Sera just stood there, staring blankly at nothing in particular. The weight of her belly pulled at her lower back, her arms wrapped protectively around it. She didn’t know how far along she was. She never kept track. The doctors had told her the pregnancy was unusual, but they never explained why.

Then the world shifted.

A loud alarm blared through the store, shrill and urgent. A second later—gunshots.

Screams erupted from every direction. Chaos followed.

Maya grabbed Sera’s wrist. “Sera, we have to go! Now!”

The words barely registered. The mall wasn’t safe anymore, yet Sera’s body refused to move. Her ears rang, her vision blurred. She felt the vibrations of people rushing past her, the frantic cries of shoppers scrambling to escape, but it was as if she was locked in place.

Maya shouted her name again before letting go, disappearing into the crowd.

And then, for the first time since the chaos began, Sera felt something.

A presence.

Someone was watching her.

She barely had time to process it before a shadow loomed over her, the scent of clean musk and gunpowder invading her senses. A large, gloved hand reached out, pressing firmly against the underside of her belly. The warmth of it sent a shock through her system.

Her body flinched, but the touch wasn’t harsh. It was… controlled.

Then another hand—large, rough—slid against the small of her back, forcing her to arch slightly. A deep, commanding voice murmured low and smooth, right against her ear.

"Breathe."

Sera gasped softly, her eyes snapping up.

The man before her was dressed in black from head to toe, a tactical mask covering the lower half of his face. His long dreadlocks framed sharp, unreadable eyes that studied her with unnerving intensity. His size was intimidating—tall, broad, and powerful. He was built like a warrior, every muscle in his body tense with silent authority.

Sera trembled, but she still didn’t move. She couldn't.

He exhaled through his nose, adjusting the pressure on her belly as if testing her reaction. His touch was firm but oddly grounding, like he was forcing her to exist in the moment.

"You're still here, ain't you?" His voice was deep, steady. "You hear me?"

Sera blinked up at him, her breaths uneven.

He clicked his tongue, his grip tightening just enough to hold her still. "Yeah, you hear me."

Her lips parted, but no words came.

His head tilted, his sharp gaze running over her features like he was trying to figure her out. Then, slowly, he dragged his hand from her lower back up to her spine, steadying her posture. The sensation sent shivers through her, but she remained frozen, her body obeying him instinctively.

Gunshots echoed again, closer this time.

The man's jaw clenched. Without another word, he slid his arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly.

Sera didn’t fight. She didn’t scream. She just let him take her.

The last thing she saw as he carried her away was the bodies of terrified shoppers pressed against the floor, the distant outline of her so-called friends running for their own survival.

And then the masked man stepped into the darkness, taking her with him.

The air inside the mall was thick with fear. Shallow, panicked breaths filled the dimly lit space where dozens of hostages huddled together, their backs pressed against the cool tile floor. The lights flickered, casting long, eerie shadows against the sleek storefronts.

Sera sat among them, her body heavy with exhaustion, her belly resting in her lap. Her wrists weren’t bound, but the invisible weight of the situation shackled her in place. She could still feel the ghost of Dre’s hands on her—how easily he had controlled her body, how effortlessly he had carried her.

Now, he stood nearby, watching her.

Her heartbeat thrummed dully in her ears as her gaze slowly lifted to the center of the room.

A man stood in front of the hostages.

He was tall, his posture relaxed but commanding. His skin was a warm brown, smooth despite the sharp angles of his face. He wore a fitted black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing inked veins that coiled like serpents along his muscled arms. His hair was styled in neat locs pulled back into a low ponytail, his beard trimmed with precision. A single gold ring gleamed on his index finger as he flexed his hands slowly, a silent message of control.

This was the leader.

And he was calm.

Too calm.

Sera lowered her gaze, clutching her belly instinctively as his voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

"Listen up," the man said, his voice deep, smooth, and patient. It was the kind of voice that didn’t need to shout to demand attention.

The room fell still.

"You’re all here for a reason. Someone in this mall thought they could play us. Set us up. Now, because of that—this lockdown happened."

Muffled cries from the hostages filled the air, but he ignored them.

"Police won’t be coming. Security? Bought off. You’re all on your own now. So, for your sake, I suggest you do one thing."

His eyes darkened, and his voice lowered.

"Stay. In. Line."

Sera shivered at the weight of his words.

The leader’s gaze flickered across the room, scanning the terrified faces of the innocent. His sharp eyes landed on a group of women—several of them visibly pregnant, their bodies curled protectively around their swollen bellies.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders.

"I’m not a monster," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. His voice softened, almost lazy. "Women and kids? I don’t got problems with you."

Some of the women whimpered, gripping their bellies tighter.

He exhaled through his nose, muttering, "Tch. Damn shame this happened." Then his expression hardened. "But don’t think that means I’ll go easy. Nobody steps out of line. Got it?"

The hostages nodded frantically.

Satisfied, he turned, his gaze settling on Dre.

Sera’s breath hitched.

For the first time, the leader seemed to really acknowledge her. His sharp eyes flickered between her and Dre, taking in the way Dre stood near her—close, possessive.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "You got a thing for the quiet ones, huh?"

Dre didn’t react, only tilted his head slightly. "She’s mine."

The leader hummed in amusement, eyes flicking over Sera once more before chuckling. "Yours, huh? Fine. Do what you want with her."

Sera’s stomach twisted.

The leader turned back to the hostages. "The rest of you? Keep still. Nobody needs to get hurt—unless you give me a reason."

He pivoted on his heel and disappeared deeper into the mall, his gang following closely behind.

The room was left in tense silence.

Sera felt Dre shift beside her, his large presence impossible to ignore. He didn’t touch her this time, but she could still feel the weight of his attention, like a shadow curling around her.

She didn’t fight. Didn’t move.

She just obeyed.

And for the first time, she realized—she wasn’t just another hostage.

She was his.

Chapter 3 – Silent Thoughts

Sera sat still among the other hostages, her breathing slow and measured. The tension in the air was suffocating. People around her were quietly sobbing, clutching each other in fear, but she remained silent, unmoving.

The leader's words replayed in her mind.

"Police won’t be coming. Security? Bought off. You’re all on your own now."

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her oversized hoodie.

She knew what that meant. There was no escape.

Her eyes drifted to the floor, tracing the patterns in the tile. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t panicking. She was just… existing. Floating somewhere between the present and the past.

A past she never wanted to remember.

Flashback – Two Years Ago

The bedroom was dim, the air thick with the scent of rain and cheap cologne.

Sera stood in the corner, staring at the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her long, curly hair stuck to her damp skin, her breaths shallow.

"Don’t look at me like that, Sera."

She didn’t move.

Tony stood a few feet away, running a hand through his short, messy hair. His expression was tight, like he was struggling with something. But Sera knew better.

He wasn’t struggling.

He was planning.

"I didn’t have a choice."

Sera’s fingers clenched into fists.

"You’ll be fine," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "They said they wouldn’t hurt you. They just… they just need you for a little while."

Her stomach twisted.

"Sera, don’t look at me like that."

Her silence was suffocating him.

She could see it.

Tony always hated that she never spoke, that her eyes held too much. That her silence screamed louder than words ever could.

"I—" He swallowed, then took a step back. "I gotta go."

And just like that, he was gone.

Leaving her to them.

Present – The Mall

Sera blinked, the cold tile beneath her grounding her back to reality. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the fabric of her sleeves.

Tony was here. Somewhere in the mall, among the hostages.

Her breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

She couldn’t let him see her break.

Her gaze flickered to Dre, who still stood nearby, his large arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t looking at her, but she knew he was aware of her every move.

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came.

Instead, she reached into the front pocket of her hoodie and pulled out her small notepad and pen.

She always kept them with her.

With slow, careful movements, she wrote:

“How long?”

Dre’s sharp eyes shifted toward her.

For a moment, he just stared at the words. Then, without hesitation, he crouched down in front of her, his massive frame making her feel even smaller.

He tilted his head slightly. “How long what?”

She hesitated, then wrote again.

“How long will we be here?”

Dre’s lips pressed together behind his mask, his gaze flickering toward the other hostages before settling back on her.

"Depends," he muttered.

Sera waited.

Dre exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Could be hours. Could be longer.”

Her fingers tightened around the pen.

Dre watched her, his expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, he reached out—slowly, deliberately.

Sera stiffened as his fingertips grazed her wrist, flipping the notepad to a blank page.

And then, using his own gloved hand, he wrote something.

“You scared?”

Sera stared at the word.

Then, without hesitation, she wrote beneath it.

“No.”

Dre’s head tilted slightly, a ghost of amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Liar.”

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she hugged the notepad to her chest, staring down at the floor once more.

Dre didn’t push her. He just let her be.

And for the first time since the lockdown began, Sera felt something she hadn’t felt in years.

Seen.