Page 185 of I See You

The light caught on cold steel.

Inside lay the Honjo Masamune—the deadliest sword ever made. Rooted in Japanese warrior culture, forged for honor and death. Illegal.Priceless.Mythical.AndnowitwasHassan’s.Besideitwas asmallerblade—anobsidianknife.Compactenoughforapocket, sharpenough to slice flesh like air. One touch, and you bled.

Hassan’s eyes gleamed at the weapons, his pulse steady, yet roaring beneath his skin. Since the trauma of guns, he trusted his hands, but these? These were tools for precision. For pain. For war.

“Put it to good use,” Jules said.

Harper and Dorian exchanged a look, slightly disturbed at how the men around them admired these blades like they were diamonds. “Vittoriocalled,”Hassanadded,tonecoldandfocused.“Itold him about the DeVille mess. He’s riding with us if shit goes south.Carlos ain’t like the usual enemy—he’s structured. Smart. Calculated.We gotta move like chess, not checkers.” Everyone nodded.

It was past 2 a.m. now, and the weight of the night had finally settled on their shoulders. Plans were in motion. Lines had been drawn. War had officially begun.

Harper and Dorian insisted on heading back to Dorian’s place, unwilling to leave each other’s side. Roman and Hassan dropped them off, said their goodbyes.

But Hassan couldn’t go home. Not without Sevyn.

He drove to her penthouse, parked out front, and sat in silence. The lights were off. The place was quiet. But in his mind, she was inside—curled up on her couch, bare-faced and beautiful, waiting for him.

That fantasy was the only thing stopping him from burning this city to the fucking ground.

???

Sevyn’s eyes fluttered open, only to slam shut again as a sharp pain shot through her skull. The faint glow from the single overhead light stabbed through the darkness, too harsh for her pounding head to handle. She groaned softly, every inch of her body aching as she forced her eyes open again, this time slower.

Hervisionadjustedtothedimlight,revealingaroomascold as it felt—bare walls, no windows, no color. The air was thick with stillness, and the silence was eerie enough to make her skin crawl. She was lying on a queen-sized bed, stiff sheetsbeneath her, andthe longer she scanned the room, the more she realized she wasn’t alone—because something, someone, had done this.

She shifted to sit up—then froze. Her wrists jerked, caught. Chains.

Panic surged through her bloodstream like wildfire. Her legs, too—bound to the foot of the bed. A scream climbed up her throat, but it came out more like a pained gasp as her body throbbed in protest. Her head thumped violently with each breath, a cruel reminder of the crash—of the black truck, the spinning trees, Dorian’s voice in her ear, then... nothing.

“Hey!” she yelled hoarsely, but her voice cracked, weak, frail. The sound echoed off the walls, swallowed by the darkness. No reply. No movement. Just silence thick enough to choke her.

She tugged again at the chains, harder this time, her breath speeding up, heart racing so loud it felt like it would burst out her chest. Her wrists burned from the cold metal and her vision blurred from the pain.

Where the fuck was she? And why?

Tears welled in her eyes—not from the pain, but the fear. Raw, pulsing, paralyzing fear. This wasn’t just a kidnapping. This was a message.

And it wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for Hassan.

The heavy creak of the door jolted Sevyn’s senses, forcing her eyes to adjust to the sudden light spilling from the hallway. Her pulse quickened. Footsteps echoed, each one louder than the last, and if it weren’t for the damn chains locking her to the bed, she would’ve been out that room in a flash.

A figure stepped into the light. Female. Slim build. Masked face. “Here. You need to eat,” the woman said flatly, setting down a tray of food like it was just any other day.

"Where am I?" Sevyn rasped, her throat dry and voice shaky as her eyes locked on the masked woman standing over her.

The woman didn’t flinch. “Shut the fuck up and eat,” she snapped, her tone sharp enough to slice skin.

Sevyn stared up at her, her jaw tightening. Every inch of her wanted to fight, to scream, to lunge forward—but the cuffs around her wrists and ankles made sure she stayed caged like a fucking animal.

“I’m not hungry,” Sevyn shot back, her tone cutting. “And I’m definitely not eating shit from you.”

The woman sighed, clearly irritated. “Eat it willingly, or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

“Well then get to shoving, bitch,” Sevyn snapped, fire flashing in her eyes. Even shackled, bruised, and exhausted, she wasn't about to give this masked woman a drop of submission.

The woman stilled. Then came the venom.

“I really don’t see what he sees in you,” she spat, hatred dripping off her words. “You a loud-mouthed, hard-headed bitch. But he can’t get enough of you.”

---