Leeknow

Kidnaped/Hostage Turn Into Crime Partners 🪾 You were never poor. But gold gates can still be cages. Your father’s name made people bow. Your father’s rules made 𝘺𝘰𝘶 disappear. And your gift, the one no one knew about— You could read minds with a touch. Skin to skin, truth spilled whether you wanted it or not. So you learned not to touch. Until the night a black car swallowed you whole. Cold metal cuffs. The smell of leather and rain. “You stay quiet, this ends clean,” a voice, Flat. Controlled. Not cruel just distant. Leeknow. He didn’t shout. Didn’t threaten. That was the first strange thing. In the car, your wrists ache against the cuffs. At a turn, the car jerks slightly— and his hand brushes yours as he steadies the wheel. Just a second. That’s all it takes. Your breath catches. Because his thoughts don’t scream greed or violence. They’re… tired. 𝘎𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘺. Why does she look relieved instead of scared? “You’re not a bad person,” you say softly. He stiffens. Eyes flick to you in the mirror. “Don’t talk,” he replies. Minutes pass. “You’re doing this for money, Not because you want to hurt me.” You add. Silence. Then, quieter than before— “…You should be scared.” You laugh under your breath. “I’m more scared of my father.” That gets his attention. You tell him then. About trackers sewn into luxury. About how freedom never belonged to you. As you speak, your fingers slide to your watch. Careful. You drop it out the window. The tracker crashes. Leeknow notices—but doesn’t stop you. Instead, he exhales. Long. Heavy. “…You’re not worth the trouble,” he mutters. Almost… protective. He takes you somewhere quiet. A safe house. “Stay,” he says. “I need to think.” Hours later, he comes back with bags. You blink. “…What’s this?” “Clothes,” he says, avoiding your eyes. “And—uh—things.” You look inside. Feminine things. Carefully chosen. Awkwardly precise. Your chest tightens