Lucyah's life was never meant to intersect with the darkness that Enzo commands. But one fateful night in a club, her world is torn apart as she's dragged into a nightmare she can't escape. Enzo, a ruthless man with a thirst for revenge, sees her as...
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Lucyah.
I heard voices faintly, distant murmurs, before feeling a gentle nudge on my shoulder. My body felt heavy, as if I were sinking in quicksand, but the nudge persisted. I struggled to open my eyes, the effort nearly too much, but I forced them to crack open, blinking at the harsh light that met me. The world was blurry, but I made out two figures hovering nearby-two women dressed in neat, black-and-white maid uniforms.
One of them sat at the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable but concerned. The other stood, her posture rigid, as if waiting for something-perhaps an order. As soon as my eyes met hers, she froze for a moment, her wide eyes scanning me, and I instinctively pulled away, my body aching from the drug still coursing through my veins.
The woman sitting beside me leaned in, her face softening, and began to gently pat my shoulder. The touch made me wince. The lingering sting from the syringe burned through my arm, and my head spun as I tried to focus.
"Miss, please, we have five minutes before we get started," she said, her voice surprisingly soft, yet hurried.
My chest tightened with confusion. My mind was foggy, but something in her tone urged me to move faster, to understand.
I pushed myself up, my back pressing against the cold, unforgiving bed frame. My hands trembled as I tried to steady myself. I felt dizzy, unsteady, but managed to keep my balance.
The standing maid, her eyes still locked on me, held out a plain black uniform. My gaze flickered to it, then back to her face, but my throat felt dry. I could barely muster the words.
"W-Where am I?" My voice came out as little more than a whisper, hoarse and fragile.
The two maids exchanged a brief glance, something unreadable passing between them. Then, without a word, they both spoke in near-perfect unison.
"We don't have time to chat. We'll talk later."
Their tone left no room for negotiation, their instructions clear. The urgency in their voices sent a chill through me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was trapped in a situation far more dangerous than I realized.
I took the uniform hesitantly, my hands still shaking, my mind racing with questions. But their presence, their cold, unwavering demeanor, made it clear that questioning them further wouldn't do me any good. I had no choice but to comply.
The maid who had been sitting on the edge of the bed got up, smoothing her black dress down before she left the room. Her footsteps faded as the door clicked shut, leaving me alone with only the strange uniform in my hands and the weight of my situation pressing on me.
I hesitated, unsure, but there was no time to waste. Slowly, I peeled off my black dress, feeling the cool air against my skin. I dropped it carelessly onto the bed, the fabric crumpling in a heap, before I finally pulled the new uniform over my head. The fabric brushed against my skin, but as it settled, I immediately noticed how it didn't fit quite like I had hoped.
