7

Inaya's pov

It's been more than a month since I've been living with Aryan, and for the first time in years, I feel at home. I feel safe. I feel like I'm finally living my life again.

And it's all because of him.

I never thought I could trust someone again, especially a man. But Aryan... he's different. Slowly, without even realizing it, I started trusting him.

But is trusting him the right thing to do? Or am I making a mistake? Will he end up hurting me like the others? Will he take advantage of me? I try to push these thoughts away, but they always find their way back.

I know I'm overthinking, but what else am I supposed to do? Only someone who has been through the same trauma as me could understand what I feel. And sometimes, I think Aryan does. He never asks too many questions, never pressures me to talk, but somehow, he just knows when I need silence and when I need comfort.

Sometimes, when I look at Aryan, I feel like he likes me. The way his eyes soften when he sees me, the way he makes sure I'm comfortable, the way he looks after me, it makes me wonder. But then I remind myself that he's much older than me. How could he even have feelings for me? I know age doesn't really matter, but still, we are so different.

And sometimes, I feel like I don't really know who Aryan is.

He knows almost everything about me. He knows my favorite ice cream, my favorite food, even when I have my periods. He notices every little thing, even the ones I don't say out loud. But what do I know about him? Almost nothing.

All I know is that his family is gone. They're all dead. Only his stepbrother is alive, and Aryan hates him. Whenever his name comes up, Aryan's expression hardens, his jaw clenches, and his eyes darken with something I can't quite place. I think, in a way, we share the same kind of trauma when it comes to family. But unlike me, Aryan never talks about it.

But why am I thinking about all this in the middle of the night?

I know Aryan isn't home. He left for some work.

How do I know? Because I got injured during tournament, and every night when I fall asleep, he applies ointment and massages my feet. He thinks I don't notice. But I do.

And maybe that's why I'm scared. Because the last time someone made me feel safe, they ended up hurting me the most.

But Aryan is different, isn't he?

I want to believe that. I really do. But my past still haunts me, whispering warnings in the back of my mind.

Maybe one day, I'll find the courage to ask him about himself. Maybe one day, I'll stop being so afraid. Maybe one day, I'll stop questioning his kindness.

I couldn't sleep. No matter how much I tried, my body refused to relax. My mind was restless, filled with thoughts I couldn't ignore.

I never thought I could trust someone again, especially a man. My past had made sure of that. My trauma had built thick walls around me, making sure no one could get too close. But Aryan... he was different. He had been patient, kind, and understanding. He never pushed me, never forced me to open up. He just stayed, always there, making sure I felt safe.

I trusted him now. Completely.

No. I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away. I was overthinking, letting my fears control me. Aryan wasn't like that. He had done nothing but take care of me, expecting nothing in return. If anything, he was the one person who had shown me that not everyone in this world was cruel.

I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair.

Maybe I just needed to talk to him. About everything.

I needed to tell him that it was time for me to leave. Not leave him, but leave this temporary comfort and get back to my life. I needed to start training again. The Champions Trophy was coming up, and I couldn't afford to waste more time. My injury was healing, and I needed to be back on the field, practicing, preparing myself.

Would he understand?

Of course, he would. He always understood.

And I needed to thank him more, too. He had done so much for me. More than I could ever repay.

He was healing something in me that he never even broke.

With that thought, I sat up, pushing the blanket off me. My room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside.

And that's when I noticed it.

A light.

It was coming from the outhouse.

I frowned. Why was the light on at this hour? Aryan wasn't home, and I was the only one here. So who turned it on?

Then I heard something.

A faint noise. Like something moving inside.

My heart skipped a beat.

I hesitated, gripping the window. Aryan had told me not to go near the outhouse. He had never given me a reason, just said it was nothing important. But now... now I wasn't so sure.

What if someone was inside? What if there were thieves?

The thought made me nervous, but I couldn't just ignore it.

Without thinking much, I grabbed the first thing I found a small wooden stick lying near my bed. Not that it would help much, but at least I wouldn't be completely defenseless.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped outside.

The night was silent. Too silent.

The ground was cold beneath my bare feet, the damp grass brushing against my skin. The wind was gentle, but it carried an eerie stillness with it. The only sound was the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional chirping of crickets.

I walked cautiously toward the outhouse, my heart pounding harder with each step. My fingers tightened around the stick.

When I reached the small window, I peered inside.

Nothing.

The room was empty.

But the lights were still on.

I bit my lip, thinking whether to go back or not. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Aryan had left the lights on by accident.

But what if it wasn't?

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and placed my hand on the doorknob.

It wasn't locked.

Slowly, I pushed the door open, wincing as it creaked loudly. The air inside was cold, carrying a strange metallic scent. I hesitated for a second before stepping in.

At first, everything looked normal.

Shelves lined the walls, filled with boxes, tools, and random items that didn't seem too unusual. But as I walked further inside, something caught my attention.

Gift boxes.

Dozens of them.

They were neatly wrapped, stacked carefully on a table in the center of the room. Each one was decorated with beautiful ribbons, looking almost... perfect.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why were there so many?

Curiosity took over as I reached out and picked one up.

There was a tag attached to it.

I swallowed hard as I read the words written in elegant handwriting.

"To my love, Inaya."

My breath hitched.

Aryan wrote this.

I knew it.

He bought me gifts? So many?

Excitement bubbled inside me. I couldn't help but smile as I carefully unwrapped the box, my fingers trembling slightly.

God, I was so excited.

I pulled off the ribbon, lifted the lid, and

I screamed.

The box slipped from my hands, crashing onto the floor as I stumbled back. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. My breathing turned ragged, my vision blurring for a moment.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

No. No, this couldn't be real.

But it was.

Inside the box... were human fingers.

Cold. Lifeless. Pale.

My body trembled as my gaze darted around wildly. My hands shook as I grabbed another box, ripping it open.

More fingers.

More severed fingers.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

What the hell was this?!

I staggered back, my hands covering my mouth as a wave of nausea hit me. My legs felt weak, my entire body frozen in fear.

What was going on here?

Was this some kind of sick joke?

Did Aryan know about this?

Or... was he the one who put them here?

A terrifying thought crept into my mind, one that I didn't want to accept.

I thought I knew him.

I thought he was different.

But now, standing here, staring at these horrific boxes, I realized something.

I didn't know Aryan at all.

My hands were shaking, my breath uneven. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. I wanted to believe this was all a bad dream, but the boxes in front of me were real. Too real.

The door creaked open, and I turned quickly.

Aryan stood there.

For a moment, relief flooded me. But then, I remembered what I had just seen. My stomach twisted in fear.

Without thinking, I ran to him, grabbing his arms tightly.

"Aryan! Look at this!" My voice came out shaky. "I-I can't even look at them! What is all this? Who did this? Why is my name on these boxes?"

Aryan's expression didn't change. He looked at me calmly, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, to my shock, he smiled.

A soft, almost gentle smile.

"I made them for you, princess," he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Only for you."

My breath caught in my throat.

"What...?" I whispered, my mind struggling to process his words.

"The fingers," he said, tilting his head slightly. "They belong to the people who trolled you."

I felt the blood drain from my face. The room started spinning.

Before I could react, darkness took over, and everything faded away.

■

Aryan's pov

I sat beside her on the bed, watching her sleep. Her breathing was slow, steady, completely unaware of the storm she had just walked into. She looked peaceful now, but I knew the moment she woke up, everything would change.

She would remember what she saw. She would remember what I told her. And then, she would hate me.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I never wanted her to find out this way. Not like this. I wanted to ease her into it, make her understand, make her see that everything I did... I did it for her.

But now?

Now, she would never look at me the same way again. She would be scared. She would try to run. She would scream, cry, beg me to let her go.

But I won't.

Because she belongs to me.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I stared at her. Her lips were slightly parted.

I reached out and gently ran my fingers through her hair. She didn't stir.

She doesn't know it yet, but I'm the only one who can protect her. I'm the only one who truly cares for her.

Those people who hurt her, who made her suffer, they don't deserve to walk freely. They don't deserve a second chance. I did what had to be done. And if I had to do it again, I wouldn't hesitate.

But she wouldn't see it that way.

She would call me a monster.

And maybe I am.

But she is mine. And there's nothing she can do about it.

I sighed again, glancing toward the door. Maybe I should have locked it. Maybe I should have kept her away from the outhouse, away from the truth, for a little longer.

But it's too late now.

When she wakes up, I'll tell her everything. Who I am. Why I did what I did.

She will cry. She will scream.

She might even try to run.

But I will catch her.

I will always catch her.

She can fight me all she wants, but she will never leave.

Because she belongs to me.

Only me.

■

A

fter a long time, she slowly opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused at first. The moment she saw me, her body tensed.

"Inaya," I whispered softly, reaching out to hold her.

"Stay away from me!" she screamed, her voice shaking.

I didn't flinch. I had expected this.

"Inaya, listen to me," I said.

"No!" she cut me off, tears welling up in her eyes. "Don't you dare say my name!"

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she stared at me.

"What are all those boxes? Why did you do this?"

I exhaled slowly, knowing there was no point in hiding it anymore.

"Because I love you, Inaya," I admitted. "And I did what I had to do. I took care of everything that bothered you."

Her face twisted with a mix of anger and disbelief. "But this... this is inhuman. I don't even want to see your face anymore. You lied about that outhouse!"

I stayed silent.

I let her yell, let her pour out all the emotions burning inside her. Because if I told her the truth about who I really was, she would try to run. And I couldn't let that happen.

As her sobs quieted, I moved closer, wrapping my arms around her from behind. She stiffened, but I held her firmly, resting my chin on her shoulder.

"You're with the devil now, princess," I murmured against her skin. "There's no escape. Even if you hate me, you'll have to stay. Because this heart, this mafia heart, beats only for you."

"Come, I'll show you how much I love you," I said, lifting her into my arms.

She gasped, startled, and tried to push against my chest, but I held her firmly. There was no use in struggling. She needed to see this needed to understand the depth of my love.

Without another word, I carried her down the dimly lit hallway, stopping in front of a large metal door. I entered a code into the keypad, and the door unlocked with a quiet beep.

She stiffened in my arms. "Where are we going?" she whispered.

I didn't answer.

We stepped inside, and the darkness swallowed us whole. The only sound was the soft clicking of my footsteps on the concrete floor.

I carried her deeper into the room and finally set her down.

"You're still alive, aren't you?"

Then a sound echoed of heavy chains dragging against the floor.

She froze.

Her eyes darted around, searching for the source of the noise. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps as she pressed herself against the cold wall.

"Don't be scared, princess," I said, my voice calm. "He's still breathing."

She swallowed hard. "Who?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

I took a step forward and turned on a dim light. The glow revealed a man slumped in the corner, his hands and legs bound by thick iron chains. His head hung low, his body covered in bruises, and his breathing was weak.

"Your coach," I answered.

Her eyes widened in horror as she stared at him.

"I brought him here," I continued, stepping closer to the man. "I thought about killing him the day you told me what he did to you. The way he laid his hands on you, the way he hurt you. But then I realized... why make it quick?"

I turned back to her, my gaze steady.

"Why not let him suffer? Let him feel what it's like to be powerless?"

She shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Aryan... this isn't right. You can't do this!"

I ignored her.

Reaching for the table beside me, I picked up a sharp blade and ran my fingers over its edge.

Then, without hesitation, I pressed it against his thigh and dragged it down.

A bloodcurdling scream filled the room.

Inaya gasped and flinched, pressing both hands to her mouth. She looked like she wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.

The man trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged sobs.

I stabbed him again, this time slower.

"Shh," I said, tilting my head. "Don't shout. You're scaring her."

He whimpered in pain, his body shaking.

Satisfied for now, I turned back to Inaya and walked toward her. Her body was pressed so tightly against the wall that she looked like she wished it would swallow her whole.

I gently cupped her face, wiping away a tear with my thumb.

"Don't be afraid, Inaya," I whispered, my voice softer now. "I'm here. Nothing will ever happen to you... not while I'm around."

After that, I took her to another hidden chamber, a place no one else knew existed. The room was dim, the air thick with silence. A single chair sat in the center of the room, and I guided her toward it. She hesitated, her whole body trembling, but eventually, she sat down.

I pulled up a chair in front of her, my movements slow and deliberate. She looked so small, so fragile, yet her eyes burned with fear and anger.

For a moment, I just stared at her, taking in every inch of her terrified face. Then, in a low, calm voice, I spoke.

"Inaya," I said, my tone softer than before. "I know you're scared right now. I know this is a lot to take in. But this... this is who I am. The real Aryan Raizada."

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head frantically, as if denying reality would somehow change it.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "No, I don't want to stay here. I don't want to stay with you."

She gripped the sides of the chair, her knuckles turning white, and before I could react, she jumped to her feet.

"I will leave," she said, her voice rising with desperation. "I don't care what you say, I will leave!"

I exhaled slowly, tilting my head as I watched her.

"Not unless I cage you here," I murmured.

She froze.

Her wide eyes locked onto mine, searching for any sign that I might be joking. But I wasn't.

"What?" she whispered.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, my gaze never leaving hers.

"You heard me," I said, my voice unwavering. "I'm going to keep you here, Inaya. Locked away. Until you accept me, until you accept the real me and love me."

Her breathing turned uneven, and I could see the way her chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Don't talk nonsense, Aryan!" she snapped, frustration lacing her voice. "I have a tournament coming up, I need to go!"

I let out a small, amused chuckle and shook my head.

"Shhh," I said, reaching out to place a finger against her lips. "I'm talking, princess. Don't interrupt me."

And then

Slap.

She hit me.

The sharp sting spread across my cheek as my head turned slightly from the impact.

The room went silent.

I slowly looked back at her, my jaw tightening. She was breathing heavily, her body shaking, but there was fire in her eyes.

"I trusted you," she choked out, her voice raw with emotion. "I trusted you so much. And look what you did to me." Tears welled up, but she refused to let them fall. "You are a monster, Aryan. A real monster."

I remained still, her words sinking in.

But instead of anger, I felt something else.

Amusement.

Possession.

A dark kind of satisfaction.

I slowly licked my lips and let out a quiet chuckle.

"Monster?" I echoed, tilting my head. "If that's what you want to call me, fine. But you're still mine, Inaya. No matter what you think of me... you're never leaving."

Inaya's breath was uneven, her entire body trembling as she stared at me with wide, horrified eyes. She had just slapped me, called me a monster, and yet, she was still standing here in front of me. Still mine.

She took a step back, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe what was happening.

"I will never be yours," she whispered.

I tilted my head slightly, watching her closely. "Oh, princess," I said, my voice calm, almost amused. "You already are. You just don't know it yet."

She let out a bitter laugh, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You're insane," she said, her voice trembling.

I shrugged, unfazed by her words. "Maybe I am," I admitted, taking a slow step toward her. "But everything I've done, every decision I've made, has been for you."

Her jaw tightened. "Torturing my coach? Locking me up? That's love to you?"

My grip tightened into fists at the mention of that man. That bastard.

"He hurt you, Inaya," I said, my voice dangerously low. "Did you really think I would let him walk free after that?"

"You don't get to decide that!" she shouted, her anger finally spilling over. "You don't get to control everything, Aryan!"

I exhaled slowly, shaking my head as I stepped even closer. "You still don't get it, do you?"

She backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The room was small, and she was already trapped.

I reached for her wrist, my grip firm but not painful, and pulled her closer. She tried to yank herself free, but I held her in place.

"You are mine," I said softly, my voice steady and unshaken. "And I will protect what's mine. No one-no one-lays a hand on you and gets away with it."

Her eyes burned with rage as she kept struggling. "You can't keep me here forever!" she shouted, desperation creeping into her voice.

I leaned in, my lips inches from hers. "Watch me," I whispered.

Tears welled up in her eyes, one slipping down her cheek. Something inside me twisted at the sight, but I didn't let go. Instead, I lifted my hand and gently brushed the tear away with my thumb.

"Don't cry, princess," I murmured, my voice softer now. "One day, you'll understand. One day, you'll see why I did all of this."

She turned her face away, refusing to look at me.

"I hate you," she whispered, her voice cracking.

A small smile tugged at my lips. "Hate is just love in disguise," I said. "And I can wait. I have all the time in the world."

She didn't respond. She just stood there, silent and tense.

I sighed, stepping back slightly. "You must be tired," I said. "I'll have food sent in. You need to eat."

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "I'm not eating anything from you."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "We'll see."

With that, I turned and walked toward the door. I paused for a brief moment, looking back at her one last time.

"You can fight me, Inaya," I said. "You can scream, cry, even hate me. But in the end... you'll be mine."

And then, without another word, I stepped out and locked the door behind me.

She could resist all she wanted. But deep down, I knew the truth.

There was no escape from me.

To be continued

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