CHAPTER 212: CHAPTER 212 KIDNAPPED BY THE ARTIST

Ryan’s POV

Something wasn’t right. I’d been sitting in this board meeting for over an hour, but couldn’t shake this growing uneasiness in my chest. My pen tapped incessantly against the polished table while some executive droned on about quarterly projections.

"Mr. Blackwood? Your thoughts on the proposal?"

I looked up, realizing everyone was staring at me. "We’ll revisit this tomorrow. Meeting adjourned."

Ignoring their confused expressions, I checked my phone again. No messages from Serena.

Simon approached as the room cleared. "Sir, is everything alright?"

Before I could answer, my phone rang - Serena’s driver. My stomach dropped.

"Mr. Blackwood," his voice trembled, "Mrs. Quinn is missing. I left her at a coffee shop while getting gas, and when I returned, she was gone."

"What coffee shop?" My voice came out razor-sharp.

"The one across from her studio, sir."

I was already moving toward the door. "Send me the exact location. And check if she returned to the studio."

Next came Maya’s call. "Ryan, it’s Lance Draven. Look into him NOW."

My jaw clenched. "Who is he?"

"An artist. Serena attended his exhibition today. Something’s off about how he acted around her. I think he might have... certain obsessions."

My blood went cold. "I’m on it."

Ending the call, I immediately instructed Simon to investigate Draven’s background - residences, frequent haunts, everything.

The driver pushed well beyond the speed limit as I sat in the back, knuckles white around my phone. When we reached the coffee shop, I demanded to see the security footage.

There she was - Serena sitting alone by the window, then moments later, Lance Draven joining her. My stomach twisted as I watched Serena’s posture change, her movements becoming sluggish.

"It’s definitely Draven," I confirmed, storming out.

"Sir, where should we look?" Simon asked, already coordinating with our security team.

"Check his most private, least visited property," I instructed without hesitation. If this man had the twisted obsession Maya suspected, he’d take Serena somewhere isolated, where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

We sped out of the city toward the suburbs, reports coming in that Draven hadn’t visited any of his usual studios or galleries today.

My jaw ached from clenching my teeth as I barked at the driver, "Faster!"

All I could think about was Serena - her soft smile that morning before leaving, how I’d been too distracted with work to really look at her. What if that was the last time I’d see her? The thought made my chest constrict painfully.

"Find her," I muttered under my breath. "I need to find her."

Serena’s POV

I jolted awake on a cold, hard chair, my head pounding as consciousness returned. Foggy memories of leaving the coffee shop flashed through my mind - that strange drowsiness that had overtaken me. Now I was fully alert, but it didn’t matter. My wrists and ankles were bound tightly with rope.

Lance stood before me in pristine white clothing, paintbrush in hand, his eyes lighting up when he noticed me stirring.

"Serena, you’re awake?" His voice dripped with disturbing enthusiasm.

I struggled against the restraints, feeling them dig deeper into my skin with each movement.

"Lance, what the hell are you doing? Untie me right now!" My voice came out stronger than I felt, while my body betrayed me with a slight tremor.

He didn’t even flinch at my harsh tone. Instead, he leaned closer with an unsettling smile. "Don’t struggle, Serena. The more you fight, the tighter the ropes become. We wouldn’t want marks ruining your skin." His eyes gleamed unnaturally. "My work must be perfect."

A chill ran down my spine. "What work? What are you planning to do?"

Lance flicked on a lamp nearby, illuminating the dim room. My breath caught in my throat as I finally saw what surrounded us - dozens of disturbing paintings hanging on the walls. Each featured nude women bound in various positions, their expressions twisted in unmistakable pain and terror.

These weren’t art. They were a monster’s fantasies documented on canvas.

I forced myself to stay calm, knowing panic wouldn’t help me escape. "Lance, let me go now and I’ll keep this quiet. This never happened."

He studied my face with increasing excitement. "You truly are the perfect muse I’ve been searching for. Absolutely perfect."

His fingers reached out, trailing across my cheek, down my jaw and neck, before finally resting on my pregnant belly. The touch made my skin crawl.

"Look at you," he whispered reverently. "Such a perfect mother-to-be. Those pure, innocent eyes... Serena, you’re the muse I’ve been seeking all these years. My artistic career will reach new heights because of you."

I swallowed back bile, realizing how deeply disturbed he truly was. Still, I needed to buy time.

"Lance, listen to me. You know who my husband is. Ryan Blackwood will tear your life apart if you do this. Everything you’ve built will be destroyed."

He waved dismissively. "So considerate, always thinking of others. Don’t worry - if you cooperate, I’ll make sure you forget this ever happened. These beautiful memories will be our little secret."

With a disturbing giggle, he walked to a tripod and switched on a video camera pointed directly at me. My stomach lurched.

"Lance, think about this. If I’m missing too long, Ryan will come looking. Let me go now and we can pretend none of this happened."

He pressed a finger against my lips, silencing me. The contact made me want to vomit.

"Shhh. This is our special time together now. No more talking." His eyes glittered with madness. "My muse, let’s start with semi-nude poses. Your body must be absolute perfection."

There was no reasoning with him. His mind was completely gone.

He caressed my face again, smiling that terrible smile. "What a perfect art piece you’ll make. If you weren’t pregnant, you might be even more beautiful... but I’ve never featured a pregnant woman before. You’ll be my first. Aren’t you excited?"

The nausea overwhelmed me then. I retched violently, unable to hold it back.

When his hand reached for my face again, I seized my chance. I lunged forward and bit down on his hand with all my strength, tasting blood.

"AHHH!" He yanked his hand back, now bearing a deep, purpling bite mark.

I spat and glared at him. "You call yourself an artist? You’re pathetic."

His face transformed from serene to twisted in an instant. "You have NO RIGHT to judge my work!" he shouted, spittle flying from his lips. "I’ve dedicated my life to art! A basic designer like you could never understand!"

I laughed bitterly. "I’m not the first woman you’ve brought here, am I? What did you use? Drugged my coffee?"

"You won’t be the first or the last," he smirked, reaching for my clothing.

I fought desperately against the restraints, knowing it was futile but refusing to submit. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Suddenly, a thunderous BANG echoed from outside. The door burst open as security guards charged in, taking Lance down with minimal effort. He thrashed beneath them, screaming incoherently.

"Let me go! Who are you people? This is breaking and entering! I’ll call the police! I’ll sue you all!"

An assistant nodded to one of the guards, who promptly gagged Lance, silencing his ranting.

Through my increasingly blurred vision, I saw Ryan rush in, his eyes immediately finding me. The raw fury and concern on his face was unlike anything I’d ever seen. He quickly removed his suit jacket and draped it over me.

"Serena, are you alright?" He crouched beside me, voice impossibly gentle as his hand caressed my cheek.

I tried to smile, to tell him I was okay, but darkness was creeping in from all sides. The last thing I remembered was Ryan untying my restraints and lifting me into his arms.

As consciousness slipped away, I heard his cold, deadly command to his men:

"Destroy this place. I never want to see this man again."