Chapter 58

Chapter 58


Aanya’s POV

The morning light streaming through the half-open blinds felt wrong — too bright, too calm for the storm that still churned inside me. I’d barely slept; every time my eyes closed, dirt and darkness closed over me again. I could still feel it — the cold press of soil against my skin, the burning in my lungs as I screamed for air.

I flinched when the door opened.

It was him.

Raaz.

He wasn’t in his usual dark suit today. Just a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the first few buttons undone, and his eyes… his eyes weren’t letting me look away. There was no smile. No smirk. Just that unreadable intensity, like he was calculating a hundred things at once and I was at the center of all of them.

“The discharge papers are ready,” he said, his voice low, controlled. “We’re going home.”

Home.
The word felt heavy.

I tried to sit up on my own, but my body betrayed me — the weakness in my limbs, the dull ache in my wrists and ankles. Before I could protest, he was at my side, one arm sliding behind my back, the other under my knees.

I froze. “Raaz, I can—”

“You can’t,” he cut me off, already lifting me into his arms. “And I’m not letting you try.”

His scent was familiar, intoxicating — expensive cologne, faint smoke, something warmer beneath it. His chest was solid against me, and no matter how much my mind screamed to keep distance, my body relaxed in his hold. It was infuriating.

I looked away, focusing on the sterile white corridor we passed. Nurses glanced up, some openly staring at the sight — the dangerous man they all whispered about carrying someone bridal style, his jaw tight, his steps purposeful.

He didn’t care. If anything, he seemed to dare anyone to comment.

When we reached the lobby, the air felt different — freer, but also sharper. Outside, I could see the sleek black SUV waiting, flanked by three more cars. His men stood like stone statues, scanning the area.

I shifted slightly in his arms. “I can walk to the car—”

His grip tightened almost imperceptibly. “Not happening.”

He didn’t slow down as we approached the doors. They slid open automatically, and the cool morning air wrapped around us. For the briefest moment, I closed my eyes and just breathed it in, reminding myself that I was out… that I had survived.

At the car, one of his men rushed forward to open the door. Raaz didn’t put me down immediately — instead, he adjusted me in his arms so I was almost sitting against his chest, his hand still supporting my back.

The leather interior smelled like him. The seat was warm, even though it shouldn’t have been.

He set me down gently, like I was made of glass. I hated that part of me wanted to lean into that care.

A small blanket was already folded neatly on the seat. He pulled it over my lap without asking. “You’ll catch a chill otherwise.”

I watched him walk around the car, his shoulders taut, movements sharp. When he slid into the seat beside me, the driver immediately started the engine.

The city blurred past the tinted windows, but I couldn’t stop watching him from the corner of my eye.

His left hand rested on his knee, the other on the seat between us. His thumb tapped once, twice — a habit I’d seen when he was deep in thought.

“You should rest,” he said without looking at me.

“I can’t,” I replied before I could stop myself.

Finally, his eyes turned to me. “Nightmares?”

I swallowed. “…Something like that.”

For a second, there was silence. Then his hand moved, covering mine where it rested on the blanket. The warmth seeped into my cold fingers before I could pull away.

“You’re safe now, jaan,” he said quietly, the words not quite a promise, not quite a plea.

The drive felt both endless and far too short. When the gates of the mansion came into view, my heart kicked in my chest. The towering iron bars swung open, and the long driveway stretched ahead, lined with manicured hedges.

Home.
No.
Not home. Just the place where my cage had walls of marble instead of steel.

When the car stopped, he was out first, and before I could reach for the handle, my door opened — and he was there again, scooping me up before I could protest.

“Raaz, I can—”

“You’re still pale,” he said simply, carrying me through the massive front doors. “You’ll walk when I say you can walk.”

Inside, the air was warmer, scented faintly with sandalwood. Milo’s little paws skittered across the polished floor as the puppy ran to us, tail wagging furiously. My heart lurched — I wanted to drop to the ground and scoop him up, but Raaz kept moving.

“Later,” he said, as if reading my mind. “You need to lie down first.”

He carried me up the sweeping staircase, his grip steady, his stride unhurried. In my room — our room now — he set me down on the bed, pulling the blanket over me again.

“Do you need anything?”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

He stood there for a long moment, just looking at me. Then he crouched down so we were at eye level.

“You will heal here,” he said, each word deliberate. “And no one… no one will ever touch you again.”

Something in his tone made it sound less like comfort and more like a threat to the entire world.

I didn’t respond. My throat felt tight.

Finally, he straightened. “Rest. I’ll send something up to eat.”

When he left, the room felt colder, despite the blanket. Milo jumped onto the bed, curling against my side. I buried my fingers in his fur and let myself breathe for the first time since we left the hospital.

But even as my eyes closed, I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy.

Because Raaz’s arms — strong, protective, terrifying — still lingered around me in memory, and I couldn’t tell if I felt safer in them… or more trapped.

Aanya’s POV

I must have drifted in and out of sleep, because the next thing I registered was the faint creak of the door opening. Milo’s ears twitched, but he didn’t bark — which told me exactly who it was.

I didn’t open my eyes right away. My body was still heavy with exhaustion, but my mind sharpened instantly, attuned to his presence.

I could hear the soft clink of porcelain — a tray being set down on the small table near the bed. Then the familiar sound of his shoes against the carpet, slow, deliberate steps until they stopped right beside me.

“You didn’t eat anything since morning,” Raaz’s voice was low, almost too calm. That was never a good sign.

I opened my eyes to find him standing over me, his sleeves still rolled up, the black shirt clinging faintly to his frame as if he’d been moving around a lot. His hair was slightly mussed, and there was a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“I’m not hungry,” I murmured, my voice scratchy.

“That’s not an option,” he said, crouching down so we were at eye level. “You’ve been through hell, Aanya. Your body is weak. You will eat.”

The firmness in his tone made my chest tighten. “Why do you care so much now?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Something flickered in his eyes — anger, hurt, and something darker. “Because,” he said slowly, “a few days ago, I thought I lost you forever. Do you know what that did to me?”

I swallowed, unable to answer.

His gaze softened, but only slightly. “I am not… used to fear. I’ve faced guns, enemies, betrayal. But the thought of you not being here—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “Eat, jaan.”

He reached for the tray and placed it across my lap before I could protest. There was soup, some soft bread, and fruit — nothing heavy, nothing fancy. Still, it felt like a command carved in marble.

When I didn’t immediately pick up the spoon, he did it for me.

“Raaz—”

“Open your mouth.”

It was absurd. I wasn’t a child. But something in his steady gaze made resistance feel pointless. I took the first spoonful, then another. The warm broth slid down my throat, easing some of the tension in my chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured, almost to himself.

We didn’t speak much as he fed me. It was strangely quiet — no sound but the soft clink of the spoon and my own breathing. When the bowl was empty, he set the tray aside and sat on the edge of the bed.

I moved instinctively to put some space between us, but his hand shot out, catching my wrist. “Don’t,” he said, not harshly, but firmly.

I looked at him, my heart pounding. “What do you want from me, Raaz?”

His thumb brushed over my pulse. “Everything. I want you to stop thinking about leaving. I want you to understand that you’re mine. And I want you to know that no one—Kartik, fate, or even you—will change that.”

There was something raw in his voice that made my stomach twist.

“I can’t live in fear forever,” I whispered.

“You won’t,” he promised. “Because I’ll destroy anything that tries to take you from me.”

And then, without warning, he pulled me closer, his arm sliding around my waist. I tensed, but he didn’t try to kiss me right away. Instead, he just held me there, his forehead resting against mine.

“You’re here,” he said quietly. “That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, I let myself breathe in that stillness, even if I knew it was a fragile illusion — one that could shatter the second his obsession outweighed his care.