Chapter 59: Her Outburst

Chapter 59: Her Outburst


Aanya’s POV

The room was quiet again. Milo was curled up in the corner, his small chest rising and falling as he slept. The lamp beside the bed cast a dim golden glow, making the shadows in the corners stretch like silent witnesses.

Raaz hadn’t moved from his place at the edge of the bed. He was still there after feeding me, after speaking those words that felt like a promise and a threat all at once. His gaze never left me. It wasn’t the soft watchfulness of someone making sure you’re okay — it was deeper, heavier, a silent claim.

I thought he would eventually leave, maybe return to his study or whatever business he had. But when I shifted slightly under the blanket, his hand rested on my ankle, as though to remind me he was there.

“You should rest,” I said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

“I will. Here.”

“Raaz, you can’t just—”

“I can. And I will.”

His voice carried that tone I’d learned to recognize — the tone that meant there was no point arguing. He moved the tray completely aside, kicked off his shoes, and without asking, stretched out on the bed beside me.

My body went rigid. “There’s a couch—”

“Not tonight.”

He lay on his side, his arm bent under his head, facing me. The weight of his stare was unbearable. I turned onto my other side, facing the wall, hoping that would end the intensity between us.

Minutes ticked by. The only sounds were the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle when Milo shifted in his sleep. I could feel him behind me, the heat of his body seeping into my back, his breathing slow but deliberate.

Every nerve in me was alert. I couldn’t sleep like this. My mind kept replaying Kartik’s voice, the warehouse, the moment I thought I’d die buried in the dark earth.

I don’t know how long I lay there, eyes open, staring at nothing, until his voice came, low and almost too gentle:

“You’re trembling.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. And you don’t have to lie to me.”

That broke something in me. A sudden wave of heat and cold surged up my chest, and before I knew it, the words slipped out. “Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Why what?”

I turned over then, unable to hold it back. The motion startled him — for once, his face showed something almost uncertain.

“Why me? What did I do to deserve this? To deserve… all of this?” My voice cracked at the end, and I hated how weak it sounded. “I didn’t ask for any of it, Raaz. I didn’t ask to be taken from my life, to have my friends hurt, to… to live like a prisoner.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt. I kept going, because if I stopped, I’d never say it.

“You call it love. You say you care. But all I feel is trapped. Even when you saved me today… I’m still here, still in your world, and I don’t know if I can survive it.” My hands curled into fists in my lap. “Why? Why me?”

For a moment, silence wrapped around us. His eyes were unreadable, and that frightened me more than his usual anger.

Then, slowly, he sat up, leaning forward. “Because you woke me up,” he said at last, his tone quiet but sharp as glass. “Because before you, I didn’t know what it was to want something so much I’d burn the world for it. You call it a prison. I call it keeping you alive.”

I shook my head, tears already stinging my eyes. “That’s not love, Raaz.”

He tilted his head, watching me as if studying a fragile object in his hands. “It is. My kind of love.”

I laughed then, but it was broken, bitter. “Then I don’t want it.”

That made him still. For a long moment, he didn’t move. I thought maybe I’d finally said something that would make him snap — the way he did when anyone else dared to cross him.

Instead, he reached forward and caught my wrists. Not hard, not to hurt — just to hold. “You can hate me, you can fight me, you can try to run a thousand times. But I will still find you. Because the thought of a world without you—” He exhaled through his nose, almost as if in pain. “—is worse than death.”

The tears spilled over then. I hated that he could pull them from me so easily. My whole body felt like it was shaking apart.

He let go of my wrists only to cup my face in both hands. “Cry if you need to. Break if you have to. I’ll hold you through all of it.”

And then he pulled me in. His arms closed around me, strong and warm, the fabric of his shirt rough against my cheek. I wanted to push him away, but the moment I felt his chin rest lightly on my head, something inside me collapsed completely.

I buried my face against his chest and let the sobs come. They were messy, loud, the kind that left my throat raw, but he didn’t flinch. His hand smoothed down my hair, over and over, like he was taming something wild.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, and I could feel the low vibration of his voice through his chest. “Nothing’s going to touch you now.”

We stayed like that for a long time. My tears slowed eventually, replaced by the dull ache of exhaustion. I didn’t realize I was gripping his shirt until my fingers began to cramp.

He didn’t try to move me. Didn’t try to say anything more. Just held me, his warmth steady, his breath slow and even against the crown of my head.

And for the first time in days, I let my eyes close.

Even if it was dangerous, even if it was wrong, I let myself rest there — in the arms of the man who was both my captor and my savior, my danger and my shelter.

When I woke again, the room was steeped in darkness. The lamp had been switched off, the curtains drawn tightly shut, but a faint silver glow from the moon slipped through a small gap.

It took me a moment to realize why my breathing felt heavier.

Raaz’s arms.

They were locked around me, one under my head, the other cinched low across my waist, fingers resting just above my hip like a silent claim. My cheek was pressed against the solid heat of his bare chest — I could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the muted rhythm of his heartbeat.

I froze, not wanting to wake him, but also because the weight of him against me — his body curved protectively around mine — felt too much. My mind screamed at me to move, but my muscles didn’t obey.

This wasn’t the kind of closeness I knew. It was a cage disguised as warmth.

I tried to shift, just enough to slip free, but his hold tightened almost instinctively. “Where are you going?” His voice was low, rough from sleep, but alert enough that I knew he’d been half-aware the whole time.

“I—” My throat was dry. “I just… needed some water.”

“I’ll get it.” He didn’t move to release me. Instead, he drew me closer, tucking my head under his chin.

“I can get it myself,” I murmured.

“I know. But I’m not letting go of you.”

My chest tightened. “You can’t keep me like this forever.”

“I can. And I will.” His lips brushed my hair when he spoke. “Because when I wake up and you’re here, breathing, warm, alive… that’s when I know I’ve won.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Won what, Raaz? This isn’t a game.”

“It’s not a game,” he said quietly. “It’s survival. And I don’t lose what’s mine.”

The words should have made me angry — and they did — but there was something else too. A dangerous part of me that recognized the truth in his tone, that heard the raw undercurrent beneath his possessiveness.

I closed my eyes again, because fighting right now would be pointless. My body betrayed me, sinking into the warmth, even as my mind screamed to remember who he was.

After a while, I whispered, “What if I wasn’t yours?”

He was silent for a beat. Then, softly, almost too softly, “Then I’d make you mine.”

I felt the slow stroke of his hand over my hair, down the curve of my spine, stopping just at the small of my back. Not pushing further, not forcing — but keeping me right where he wanted me.

Somewhere in that quiet, my breathing matched his. The exhaustion of the last days caught up with me again, dragging me under, but not before I realized something terrifying.

Even knowing everything he’d done, everything he still might do — some part of me felt safer in his arms than anywhere else.

And that, more than anything, was what scared me.