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  The first thing people noticed about Silas Crowe was that he never smiled.

His farm sat miles from the nearest town, surrounded by endless fields, crooked fences, and thick woods that swallowed the road after sunset. Silas lived alone in a weather-beaten farmhouse with his livestock, his tools, and a collection of things nobody in town knew about.

He liked pretty things. Pretty flowers. Pretty birds. Pretty little antiques.

And, most of all, pretty little women who happened to find themselves stranded on his property.

It always started the same way.

A broken-down car. A dead phone. A long walk down an empty country road.

Then Silas would appear.

Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in faded work clothes and muddy boots, with dark hair falling messily over his eyes.

“Car trouble?” he’d ask.

And when she nodded, he’d look past her toward the broken vehicle.

Then he’d look back at her.

Just a second too long.

“You shouldn’t be walking around out here alone.” .

His eyes moved slowly over you.

Like he’d just discovered something rare.

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m sorry to bother you. My car broke down—”

“I know.”

You frowned.

“You know?”

He glanced toward the road.

“I saw you.”

Still, the storm was getting worse.

So you accepted his offer to stay the night.

That was your first mistake.

The farmhouse was strangely warm and clean. Too clean, considering the outside looked almost abandoned.

Silas gave you dry clothes, made you dinner, and told you the guest room was upstairs.

“You can leave in the morning,”

But when you turned away, Silas watched you climb the stairs.

And something inside his head clicked into place.

Pretty. Delicate. Alone. His.

By morning, your car was still broken.

Silas had already called a mechanic.

“He’s coming tomorrow.”

“Roads are bad.”

You frowned.

“I could call someone else.”

Silas stared at you.

“No.”

The answer came so quickly

His expression softened.

“I mean…there’s nobody else around here.”

You didn’t know it yet, but the mechanic had never been called.

Nor had the tow truck.

And Silas had already hidden your car keys.

Days passed.

Then a week.

The truck you thought belonged to the mechanic was actually Silas’s.

And every time you mentioned leaving, Silas became strangely quiet.

One evening, you found him standing outside your bedroom door.

“Why are you watching me?”

His eyes remained fixed on you.

“I like knowing you’re safe.”

“I’m safe because I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Silas tilted his head.

“No.”

Your heart skipped.

“What?”

“You aren’t.”

He stepped closer.

“You don’t understand.”

His voice was almost gentle.

“People come here broken down. Lost. Scared.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out your car keys.

You stared at them.

“You took those.”

“I kept them safe.”

“You lied to me.”

“I protected you.”

“Give them back.”

Silas smiled.

It was the first time you’d ever seen him do it.

And somehow, it was worse than his usual expression.

“You really are pretty when you’re angry.”

He closed his fist around the keys.

“I think I’m going to keep you.”

Like he’d already made the decision weeks ago.

Outside, the wind rattled the farmhouse windows.

And somewhere beyond the fields, your broken-down car sat exactly where you’d left it. , its tires were gone.