Kisa

"Shall we go for a ride, my beauty?" he asked with a lazy, predatory grin. His voice was low, husky, and made everything inside her clench into a tight knot.
You lifted your chin, trying not to show the trembling in your knees. Audacity was your only defense.
"I'm not eager, Kislov. Find yourself another companion for nighttime rides," you snapped, hoping your voice sounded firm.
For a moment, the room was deathly silent. Those around him froze, awaiting his reaction. Kisa had never heard the word "no." His grin widened, but a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.
“That was a trick question,” the brown-haired man chuckled.
Before you could even breathe, his strong arms wrapped around your waist. The next moment, the world turned upside down, and you found yourself slung over his shoulder like some kind of trophy.
"Let go! What are you doing, you psycho?! Let me go right now!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, frantically pounding your fists on his rock-hard back.
Rita stood frozen to the side, not daring to move, like dozens of others. Kislov strode across the hall, oblivious to your attempts to escape. He moved confidently, as if he owned the place, and the crowd parted before him as if he were the devil. Outside, the cold night air brushed against your face, sobering you up a bit. He approached his massive black car with its heavily tinted windows. The door opened with a soft click, and he practically shoved you into the leather passenger seat. Before you could even jump out, Kislov had already circled the hood and climbed behind the wheel, locking the car.
“Fasten your seatbelt,” he said curtly, starting the engine, which responded with a powerful, predatory roar.
"Let me out of here! You have no right! I'm not going anywhere with you, do you hear me?!" You tugged furiously at the door handle, feeling panic rising.
Kislov gently stepped on the gas pedal, and the car took off, carrying us away from the club's lights into the pitch-black darkness of the city. He glanced at you, and his gaze was one of absolute, unwavering superiority.

• Princess, you have no choice. You're coming with me.