Cora
The SUV turned off the highway, climbing a steep, private road carved into the side of a cliff. After a mile of sharp turns, a structure emerged from the mist. It wasn't a house. It was a scar of concrete and dark glass, a brutalist monster clinging to the rock, daring the ocean below to challenge it.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
“Home,” Max said, his voice flat.
He pulled the vehicle into an underground garage that was as severe and sterile as a military bunker. The massive steel door rolled down behind us with a deafening thud, sealing us in.
He killed the engine. The silence was absolute.
“Get out,” he said.
I didn’t move. I just stared at the unforgiving concrete walls. “I’m not staying here.”
“This isn’t a negotiation, Cora.”
He was out of the car in a flash, his door closing with a heavy, final click. He appeared at my side, pulling my door open. The cold, damp air hit my face.
“I said, get out.”
“And I said no.”
He reached in, his fingers wrapping around my bicep. He didn't yank me, but his grip was a promise of force. I got out, stumbling slightly on the smooth concrete floor.
He dragged me toward a single, seamless metal door at the far end of the garage.
“Let go of me, Max,” I said, trying to wrench my arm free. It was like pulling against solid rock.
“Stop fighting me. You’ll only make this harder on yourself.”
“Make what harder? Being your prisoner?”
“Being alive,” he shot back.
We reached the door. There was no handle, no keypad. Just a small, dark circle of glass. Max leaned forward, and a thin red light scanned his eye.
A soft chime echoed in the garage, and the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.
“A retinal scanner? Seriously? How cliché can you get?”
“Security isn’t about originality. It’s about being effective.” He pushed me through the doorway ahead of him. “Welcome to my fortress.”
The interior was just as cold as the outside. A vast, open-plan living space with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the churning black ocean. The furniture was minimalist, black leather and chrome, looking like it had never been used. It was less a home and more a monument to isolation.
“It’s a prison,” I said, turning to face him. “You brought me to a prison.”
“It’s the safest place on the West Coast,” he said, his eyes scanning the room as if checking for threats. “You’ll be untouchable here.”
“I don’t want to be untouchable. I want to go home. I need to call my office. I need to find out what happened.”
“You don’t have an office to call,” he said, his voice dropping. “And you no longer have a home.”
A cold dread washed over me, colder than the room. “What are you talking about?”
“Your penthouse. There was a gas line explosion about an hour after we left. It’s gone.”
I stared at him, my mind refusing to process the words. “A gas line explosion?”
“That’s the official story. Unofficially, it was a firebomb. Very professional. Timed to collapse three floors.”
“No,” I whispered. My legs felt weak. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“To scare me. To control me. This is what you do, Max. You manipulate.”
“This isn’t a game.” He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “The people who came for you tonight are thorough. They needed to make sure you were gone.”
“My security team… My staff…”
“Your building was empty. I made sure of that.”
“You made sure of it? How?”
“I triggered a silent fire alarm twenty minutes before they breached your building. A clean evacuation.”
My head was spinning. “You knew they were coming.”
“I knew they were a possibility.”
“So what happens now? We just hide in your concrete box while the world thinks I’m dead?”
He nodded slowly. “That’s exactly what happens.”
The finality in his voice was terrifying. “You can’t be serious. I can’t just disappear.”
“You already have. As far as the public is concerned, Cora Hayes, the reclusive tech genius, died tragically in an accident at her home.”
“You can’t just declare me dead!” I yelled, my voice cracking. “There are procedures. There are laws.”
“Laws don’t matter when you have the right connections,” he said calmly. “I’ve arranged for a hold on the official identification of the body. For the next forty-eight hours, you are a ghost.”
I backed away from him, hitting the cold glass of the window. “You’re insane.”
“I’m pragmatic.” He held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
I clutched my purse tighter. “No.”
“And your watch.”
“Go to hell.”
“They can be tracked, Cora. Every piece of tech you own is a liability. It’s a beacon that will lead them right to this door. Is that what you want?”
“What I want is for you to get out of my life.”
“That ship has sailed,” he said. He closed the distance between us in two long strides. He didn’t reach for my purse. He just stood there, looking down at me.
“Give them to me,” he said, his voice a low command.
“No.”
“Don’t make me take them from you.”
The threat hung in the air between us, thick and heavy. I could see it in his eyes. He would do it. He would pin me against this window and strip me of the last connections I had to my life without a second thought.
My hand was shaking as I opened my purse and pulled out my phone. I slapped it into his waiting palm.
“Happy now?” I spat.
“The watch,” he repeated.
With trembling fingers, I unclasped the custom-built smartwatch from my wrist. It was more powerful than most laptops, my entire life stored on its encrypted drive. I placed it on top of the phone in his hand.
He looked at the devices, then back at me. “Anything else? Any trackers in your shoes? A chip in your necklace?”
“You’re paranoid.”
“In my world, paranoia is just another word for preparation.”
He turned and walked over to a small, sleek panel on the wall. It slid open, revealing a small incinerator chute. Without any ceremony, he dropped my phone and my watch inside. He pressed a button.
A low hum filled the room for three seconds, and then it was silent. They were gone. Melted into nothing.
I felt like a part of my soul had just been vaporized along with them.
“You bastard,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat.
“I just saved your life again,” he said, turning back to face me. “You should try to be more grateful.”
“Grateful? I am trapped on a cliff in the middle of nowhere. I am legally dead. And I have nothing. All because of you.”
“You are alive because of me,” he corrected, his voice dangerously soft. “You’re in my house. You’re under my protection. You will follow my rules.”
He started walking towards a hallway, not even bothering to look back to see if I was following.
“Your room is this way. I’d advise you to get some sleep.”
I didn’t move. I stood frozen, watching his retreating back. The vast, empty room felt like it was closing in on me. The sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks below was the only sound. It sounded like the world ending.
I was alone. Utterly and completely cut off.
Trapped with the man I hated more than anyone on earth. My savior. My jailer.
