The door clicked shut.
And just like that, he was gone.
The silence that followed was louder than anything she'd ever heard before. It pressed against her chest, filling the room like smoke—thick, suffocating, consuming.
Siya stood frozen near the bed, her bare feet pressed to the cold marble floor, the oversized black shirt falling just above her knees—his shirt. It carried his scent, warm and commanding. A strange comfort. A dangerous kind of safety, still feeling the ghost of Rajveer's kiss on her forehead. Her fingers unconsciously brushed the spot, as if trying to hold onto it before it disappeared like everything else in her life.
Her body was warm from the lingering touch.
Her heart… wasn't.
It was confused. Terrified. Beating like a drum with no rhythm.
She exhaled shakily.
"You're not safe here anymore."
"They found you."
"You're mine."
"You were mine the second you stepped through my door."
The words looped in her head like a forbidden melody, twisting around her thoughts like vines around a dying flower.
She turned slowly and sat back on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest, the oversized shirt swallowing her small frame, fingers tangled in the hem of the shirt as if it could somehow hold her together.
Her lips still tingled from his kiss.
And yet, her heart felt like it had been dropped into ice water.
Why did she feel like this?
She didn't even know him.
Not really.
He was a stranger.
She should be afraid. He was dangerous. Powerful. Possessive in a way that felt more like chains than comfort. A man with power, money, violence in his eyes---but softness in his hands. A man who could command armies, but looked at her like she was the only thing in the world worth worshipping.
But she wasn't afraid.
She was… safe.
And that was even scarier.
She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. Her throat burned with unshed tears, but she didn't let them fall.
She wasn't weak.
She'd learned how not to cry.
Learned how to stay still and quiet and invisible.
Learned that love was dangerous. That kindness was bait.
She stared out the large window of the bedroom. The rain had picked up again, tracing silver lines against the glass. In the distance, the city blinked with lights that didn't care about people like her—girls who were sold, girls who were used, girls who were forgotten.
But Rajveer hadn't forgotten.
She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the windowpane.
His touch… wasn't rough. Not like the others. He hadn't once asked her to give anything. Not her body. Not her pain. He just offered his presence. His protection.
It had weight, yes—like ownership, like certainty—but there was reverence in it. Like she wasn't something to be used. She was something to be kept.
No man had ever looked at her the way he did. Like she was the storm. Like he wanted to stand in the middle of it and let it destroy him.
But why?
Why her?
She was broken. Filthy. A discarded thing wrapped in a body that had been touched more times than her soul had ever been heard.
And yet… he looked at her like she was gold.
An hour passed.
Then two.
She paced the room. Checked the window. Touched the door handle but didn't open it.
He told her to stay. So she did.
She wandered out of the bedroom after a while, unsure why her feet moved the way they. Maybe to distract herself. Maybe to breathe. Maybe because the silence in her own chest was too loud.
Siya sat on the couch, hugging a cushion close to her chest, her heart thudding with every tick of the clock. She tried to distract herself—TV, music, even reading a random magazine from his bookshelf—but nothing worked.
The house was quiet. Lavish. Every piece of furniture looked expensive, but lived----in. There were hints of Rajveer everywhere: the subtle scent of his cologne, the neat stack of unread books on the coffee table, the whiskey glass still sitting by the window.
She picked it up. The liquid had gone warm. She placed it back down.
Everything here was calm. Ordered. Controlled.
Completely opposite of what her life had been.
She was spiraling.
A few steps took her into the kitchen, where the cutting board and apple knife still sat exactly where he'd left the,
That stupid apple.
She laughed softly----more like a breath with a sound. The way he'd teased her…the way he'd smirked and offered her snacks before touching her….The way he placed her hand on him, then pulled away just to feed her a damn apple slice.
She still hear his voice:
"This isn't the thing you should lick, babygirl."
"There's something else waiting for you."
Her cheeks flushed remembering it. Her body still reacted to his voice, his gaze, his authority. But there was something beneath all of that----a tether trying her heart to him, more than just physical.
It was the way he looked at her when she said her name.
It was the way he slowed down when she whispered, "Slower."
It was the way he asked, "May I kiss you?"
Consent.
No one had ever offered it to her before. Not like that.
She returned to his room after an hour, her fingers trembling as opened the door. She didn't know what she was looking for. Maybe a scent, maybe a shadow. Maybe something to hold onto while the fear grew.
She sat on the bed.
His pillow was soft beneath her finger. She pulled it toward her and buried her face in it.
It smelled like cedar and smoke. A little wild. A little safe.
She hated that it calmed her.
Siya curled up under his blanket, her hands clutching it to her chest. The darkness in the room didn't scare her anymore. It was silence that hurt. The kind of silence that left her alone with herself.
"They tried to reach you."
"You're not safe here anymore."
"I'll send them a message in blood."
His voice echoed in her bones.
She'd seen fear before. Felt it, lived inside it. But this was new. This fear wasn't for herself.
It was for him.
And that realization cracked something deep inside her.
The memory…..
The first time her uncle sold her.
She seventeen. Still in school. Still foolish enough to believe her life might somehow be different. Her aunt had just died, and her uncle started drinking more. Gambling more. Breaking things more.
One night, she overheard a conversation. About her. Her body. Her virginity. The price of purity.
She remembered hiding in the corner, fists clenched, chest caving in.
"She's pretty. Still untouched. That what they want. You'll get good money."
She had cried that night. And then stopped. Because crying didn't change anything.
But now?
Now someone had killed for her. Bled for her. Protected her.
She didn't know what Rajveer was doing at that moment, but her chest burned with the fear that something could happen to him. That he might not return.
And if he didn't...
She didn't want to finish the thought.
She didn't just want Rajveer to return.
She needed him to.
Instead, she whispered to the silence, "Why do you make me feel like this?"
She hugged his pillow, burying her face into it, letting herself breathe him in like it was the only oxygen left in the world.
She wasn't supposed to feel this way.
She wasn't supposed to fall.
But she was falling—and fast.
She clenched the sheets and closed her eyes.
...............................
It was around 3:30 AM when she finally sat up straight.
Sleep wouldn't come. Not tonight. Not without him.
She walked to his side of the bed and sat where he had been earlier. Her fingers brushed the sheets. She imagined his arms around her. His voice. His eyes.
Was this what it felt like…..to belong?
Was this what it felt like….to be seen?
She didn't realize tears had slipped from her eyes until they touched her lips.
"I'm not ready," she whispered to no one. "But I think….I want to be."
And then softly, brokenly, to the pillow that smelled like him------
" Please come back," she whispered.
As thunder cracked outside, she stayed curled on his bed—surrounded by shadows, by his scent, and by the unfamiliar ache of wanting someone to survive just for her.
She didn't know how long she sat there, curled into his blanket, holding his pillow like it was the last piece of him she had left.
Time had stopped making sense. The night stretched endlessly, and every sound outside the walls felt like a threat waiting to slip in.
She wasn't used to this.
Caring.
Missing.
Fearing for someone else's life.
Rajveer had entered her world like a wildfire-----destructive, impossible to ignore, and painfully beautiful.
And now, in his absence, she realized just how much space he had already taken up inside her.
He wasn't gentle in the way the world defined it.
But he had held her like she mattered.
He had touched her like she was precious.
He had kissed her like she was his.
She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to his pillow, her heart aching in ways it never had before.
"I'll kill them before they touch you again."
"You were mine the second you walked through my door."
She was terrified of what that meant.
But even more terrified of losing it.
Because for the first time in years, someone had looked at her and seen a girls, not a product.
A soul, not a service.
And now?
She wasn't scared of him leaving her broken.
She was scared of him not returning at all.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
"Come back to me, Rajveer," she whispered to the silence.
"Because I don't think I'll survive losing you…
not after finally being seen."
📖 Chapter 5 – Bruised, But Yours
The sound of the lock disengaging echoed through the house like thunder crashing in a vaccum, a jolt ripped through Siya's spine.
She flung the blanket aside and bolted upright. The storm outside still raged, wind lashing against the windows, thunder muttering like a beast in the dark—but it was the silence inside her chest that screamed the loudest.
She ran into the hallway just as the door creaked open.
And there he was.
Rajveer.
She froze.
He stood just beyond the threshold, one hand still on the doorframe. Rain soaked his black shirt, the fabric clinging to his body like second skin. His tall frame was silhouetted in the dim light. He leaned slightly against the doorframe—not from exhaustion, but restraint. The tension in his body was palpable, like a lion trying not to show the limp in its step.
Blood stained his cheekbone. A split in his brow trickled crimson down the side of his face. His knuckles were torn, raw, and crusted. His black shirt clung to him, soaked from the rain, exposing the hard outline of his chest and abdomen beneath. His knuckles were swollen. Bruised. One eye slightly discoloured. Yet his eyes----
Those cold, terrifying eyes---were only looking at her.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
His eyes had already found her—and they said everything.
I came back.
I kept my promise.
I bleed for you.
Her breath caught.
"Raj----"
"Rajveer…" her voice cracked as she took one step forward, then two---until her hands were on his chest. "What—what happened to you?"
"You're hurt," she whispered, tears pooling instantly, "God, you're----what happened to you?"
He walked in without answering, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked.
"I told you not to wait up," he said, voice like gravel soaked in rain.
"You think I could sleep after the way you left?" she whispered, trying to swallow the panic in her chest. "You said you'd be back, but it's been hours. I thought—"
He looked down at her hands on him and slowly raised his own, wiping the tear that had slipped down her cheek with the back of his bruised finger.
"I told you I'd come back," he said again. But his tone had softened. "And I did."
She moved forward without another word and pressed her hands to his chest. She could feel the tremble in his muscles—exhaustion, not weakness. Her fingers brushed his jaw, tracing the curve of the bruise.
Her fingers clenched his shirt. "You're bleeding."
"It's not mine," he said dryly. But even he wasn't sure if that was fully true.
She stepped back. "Sit. You're not fine."
His eyes fluttered closed.
"You're hurt."
"I've had worse."
She bit her lip hard. "And what if it had been more than this? What if you hadn't come back at all?"
He opened his eyes again, and they glinted with something dark and feral. "Then I would've died killing the ones who came for you."
Siya's chest cracked.
It was too much—his pain, his devotion, his danger.
Too much, and yet not enough.
"Sit," she said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him gently to the couch. "Now. Before you fall over."
Rajveer allowed it. He didn't argue. He didn't resist her fussing. Didn't challenge her worry. For once, he let her take care of him.
For once, he followed her quietly to the couch. He sat down heavily, the weight of everything pressing into his bones now that he was back inside these walls. Inside her world.
She returned with a small towel, cotton balls and antiseptic. Her hands moved quickly but gently as she dabbed at the cut near his eyebrow. As she cleaned the blood on his face, she noticed how he didn't flinch—even when the sting of alcohol hit open skin.
"Who was it? She asked, voice tight.
"Someone who'll never touch you again."
"How many?" she asked quietly.
He looked up at her. "Enough."
"Enough to what?"
"To send a message."
Her hand paused mid-air. "What kind of message?"
"That anyone who dares touch you…" His voice dropped, rough and low. "…won't have hands left to try again."
A shiver ran down her spine.
Not fear.
Something deeper.
A terrifying sense of safety.
"You killed them."
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he tilted his head and looked at her. "Does that scare you?"
She paused.
Then shook her head. "No. What scares me…..is that I didn't feel anything except relief."
Rajveer exhaled slowly. "Good."
"Why?" she whispered. "Why are you doing this for me?"
His eyes burned into hers.
"Because I couldn't save you back then. But I can now. And I will."
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
"You think this is just about a one-night deal?" he continued, his voice losing its armor. "You think I brought you here just to fuck you and send you back to hell?"
She blinked, startled by the rawness in his voice.
"You walked into my house," he whispered, "and every part of me that was dead… started to breathe again."
Tears welled up in her eyes. She quickly looked away.
He reached up and cupped her jaw with his bruised hand, turning her to face him again.
"I don't care what they did to you. I don't care how broken you think you are. You're mine now."
"Rajveer…"
"I'll give you time. I'll give you space. But never forget this, Siya—I. Do. Not. Share."
She placed the towel against his bruised cheek. "You shouldn't have gone alone."
"I don't trust anyone else when it comes to you."
She met his eyes----dark, raw, and stormy.
"I'm not yours to protect like that."
"Yes, you are."
"No, Rajveer-----"
His hand gripped her wrist, not to hurt----but to ground her. His voice dropped.
"Siya, I will burn this city down if it ever tries to take you from me. You may not want to belong to anyone….but I'm not asking. I've already chosen you."
Her breath hitched. Her mouth opened----but the words tangled inside.
He pulled her slowly toward him. "You want to leave?"
She shook her head.
"You scared of me?"
Another shake…
"Then stop running inside your own mind," he whispered, pulling her between his legs until she stood with her knees brushing his. "You're here. With me. Right now."
She looked down at his bruises, his cuts, the blood on his knuckles. And her heart shattered and rebuilt itself all at once.
"I'm sorry you got hurt," she whispered. "For me."
She closed her eyes.
He cupped her waist with both hands, holding her as if afraid she'd vanish. "You're the only pain I'll ever choose."
There was madness in his voice. Possession. But beneath it—was sincerity. Raw and real.
She opened her eyes slowly and met his gaze.
Her throat closed. Tears filled her eyes again, but this time—they didn't fall from fear.
They fell from feeling.
From this warmth, this heat, this frightening intimacy she had never dared imagine.
And without thinking—She lowered herself gently onto his lap, straddling him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in—blood, sweat, rain, and all.
Not out of seduction.
But something far more dangerous.
Trust.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her fingers curled into his damp hair. Her cheek pressed to his neck.
His breathing hitched. He held her tightly, one hand on her back, the other pressing to the back of her head.
"You scared me tonight," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I thought I'd never see you again. And I didn't know what that would do to me."
Rajveer's arms circled her waist tightly, his head dropping to her shoulder.
"You're not going to lose me," he said against her skin. "Even if I have to crawl back to you next time."
She pulled back just enough to look at him.
"You're hurt," she said, voice breaking. "And still, you came back for me."
"I always will."
Their lips met.
This time, it wasn't a kiss of fire.
It was a kiss of need. Of claiming. Of emotional chaos wrapped in silence.
She kissed him slowly, her lips soft, tender, and hesitant—but he kissed her like a man falling, bruised but unyielding. Like she was the only thing holding him together.
And maybe she was.
He pulled her tighter against him, one hand on her back, the other tangled in her hair. Their breaths mingled. Their hearts pounded.
Every movement screamed—
You're mine.
I see you. I feel you. I'll never let you go.
She pulled away just enough to rest her forehead against his.
"I don't know how to be yours," she whispered.
"You don't have to know," he murmured. "You just have to stay."
She nodded slowly.
And then he said the words that shattered whatever walls she had left:
"I don't just want your body, Siya. I want the parts of you that are scared. The ones that hurt. The ones that no one's ever loved properly. I want all of it. All of you."
Her chest broke open with that sentence.
She kissed him again.
Longer this time. Deeper.
Not just with lips.
With the ache of a thousand unsaid words.
And that night, as the storm raged outside, two broken souls found something between them that neither had dared believe in—
Peace.