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Author's POV:

The car surged forward, the hum of the engine drowning out Aaradhya’s ragged breaths. She pressed against the door, her nails digging into the leather seat as if it could offer her some form of escape.

Rudra sat beside her, his presence consuming the space, suffocating her more than the locked doors ever could. His scent—leather, smoke, and something uniquely him—wrapped around her, coiling like a noose she couldn’t break free from.

Her chest rose and fell erratically. Think, Aaradhya. There has to be a way out.

“I won’t let you keep me,” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rudra chuckled, the sound low, rich—like he was amused by a child throwing a tantrum. His fingers tapped lazily against the armrest, his rings glinting under the dim car light.

“You still think you have a choice?” He tilted his head, studying her with those unreadable dark eyes. “That’s adorable.”

Her jaw clenched. “You can’t just—”

“I can.” His voice was calm, almost indulgent, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath it. “And I did.”

Aaradhya’s nails bit into her palm. Her pulse thundered in her ears. This can’t be happening.

She turned to the door, her fingers fumbling with the handle. Locked. Of course, it was locked.

Rudra exhaled sharply, as if mildly disappointed. Then, in one swift motion, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him.

A gasp tore from her lips.

Before she could process it, she was on his lap—trapped.

Her breath hitched. “L-Let me go!” She thrashed, but his arms caged her in, his strength effortless, unshaken.

Rudra’s grip tightened at her waist, his fingers pressing into her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. “Enough.”

The single word held a warning, a promise of consequences she wasn’t ready to face.

Her struggles slowed, her body betraying her as she trembled against him.

Rudra leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. His voice dropped to a whisper—dark, intimate. Deadly.

“You don’t get to run from me, gattina.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “Please...”

His thumb wiped it away, his touch almost reverent. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

The car slowed.

Aaradhya’s stomach churned with dread as she glanced out the window—a towering glass fortress stood before them.

No.

Her pulse spiked as realization hit her like ice down her spine. This wasn’t just captivity.

This was a cage.

A golden one, lined with silk and shadows, crafted by the devil himself.

Rudra leaned back, satisfied.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.”

Aaradhya’s breath caught as the car door opened. A gust of cool night air swept in, but it did nothing to ease the suffocation tightening around her chest.

Two men in dark suits stood by the entrance—silent, imposing, watchful.

Her heart pounded. This wasn’t just any building. It was a fortress, a place where the outside world couldn’t touch her. Where no one would hear her scream.

Rudra stepped out first. He didn’t turn to see if she followed—because he knew she had no choice.

The driver pulled the door wider. Aaradhya sat frozen, her hands clenched into fists.

“Miss?” The man’s voice was polite, but the expectation was clear.

Rudra sighed. “You can step out yourself, or I can carry you inside. Choose wisely.”

Her stomach twisted. The thought of his hands on her again—**of that effortless dominance, the way he handled her like she was his possession—**made her skin prickle.

Slowly, she moved. Her feet hit the pavement, but the moment she straightened, a firm grip enclosed her wrist.

She flinched, her eyes snapping up to meet his.

Rudra’s fingers, warm and unyielding, rested just below her pulse. A silent warning. A quiet claim.

He didn’t need chains. His presence alone was enough to bind her.

Wordlessly, he led her through the grand entrance, the glass doors parting with a soft whoosh.

The lobby was a world of black and gold, sleek marble floors reflecting the glow of dim chandeliers. The luxury was suffocating, a cruel contrast to the prison it truly was.

A private elevator awaited. The moment they stepped inside, the walls closed in.

Aaradhya swallowed, pressing herself into the farthest corner. Distance—she needed distance.

Rudra leaned against the mirrored wall, watching her through the reflection. His gaze is dark and unreadable.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” he asked, his voice low, smooth.

Aaradhya’s nails bit into her palm. “Because you’re a monster,” she whispered.

He chuckled, slow and deep. “Perhaps.”

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.

Aaradhya hesitated.

A small smirk touched his lips. “Go ahead, gattina. See for yourself.”

With hesitant steps, she stepped out—and the breath was stolen from her lungs.

The penthouse was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering skyline, the city stretching endlessly beyond the glass.

But it wasn’t freedom.

It was a cage. A beautiful, luxurious cage.

The realization sank like lead in her stomach.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m never leaving, am I?”

Behind her, Rudra shut the door.

Click.

A lock.

A promise.

A dark chuckle ghosted over her skin as he stepped closer, his presence in a shadow she couldn’t escape.

“No, sweetheart.” His fingers brushed against her jaw, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

His next words sent a chill down her spine.

“You belong to me now.”

Aaradhya’s chest tightened as Rudra’s words settled over her like an unbreakable chain.

You belong to me now.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. The weight of his presence, the quiet finality in his voice—it sent ice through her veins.

No.

No, she couldn’t accept this.

Her body moved before her mind could process it. One step back. Then another. Until her spine hit the cold glass of the window. Her breath hitched.

Rudra’s dark gaze flickered with amusement as he watched her. Like a predator giving its prey a moment of false hope.

Aaradhya’s throat was dry, but she forced herself to speak. “You can’t keep me here.”

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Can’t I?”

A challenge. A taunt.

Her fingers twitched at her sides. Panic clawed at her ribs, but she swallowed it down. Think, Aaradhya. Think.

Her gaze darted across the penthouse. A single entrance. No visible keys. No security panel. But—

The elevator.

It was still open. Just a few feet away.

Aaradhya didn’t hesitate. She spun, sprinting towards it—

But she barely made it two steps before a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a hard chest.

A gasp tore from her lips.

“Hmm.” Rudra hummed as if he had expected this. “You’re fast, gattina, but not fast enough.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. His grip was firm but not painful—not yet.

“Let me go,” she hissed, struggling against him.

His arms tightened, his voice a low murmur against her ear. “Isn’t it a little too soon for that?”

Aaradhya fought harder. Twisting. Kicking. But it was useless. His grip was unyielding, his strength effortless. She was caged in his arms just as much as she was in this penthouse.

“Keep fighting,” he mused, dragging her flush against him. “I like it when you do.”

A chill crawled down her spine. The amusement in his voice made her stomach churn.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

She needed out.

Desperation took over. Aaradhya flung her head back, aiming for his face—

But he saw it coming.

In a blink, he spun her around, pinning her against the nearest wall. His body caged hers in.

The fight in her stilled.

Rudra exhaled sharply, his grip bruising against her wrists for just a second before he loosened it. His dark eyes locked onto hers, searching. Not with anger. Not with amusement. But something else.

Possessiveness.

Obsession.

Aaradhya’s pulse thundered.

“Never do that again,” he murmured, his voice velvet-soft, dangerously quiet.

She flinched. Not at his words, but at the way they were spoken—not as a warning, but as a promise.

“I—” Her voice wavered.

Rudra leaned in, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. “You want to run?” His fingers trailed down her arm, leaving a ghost of heat in their wake.

Aaradhya’s breath hitched.

His lips tilted in a smirk. “Then run.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

He released her wrists, taking a step back. The sudden loss of his warmth made her shudder.

She hesitated. This was a trick. It had to be.

Rudra tilted his head toward the door. “Go on, gattina.”

Aaradhya’s body is tense. Her mind screamed at her to move, to take the chance.

But her feet wouldn’t obey.

Something about the way he looked at her—like he already knew what would happen—made her stomach drop.

Slowly, she turned. One step. Then another. The door was right there.

Her heart pounded.

Almost.

Her fingers reached for the handle—

The moment it turned, the cold, unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut echoed in the silence.

A breath of laughter ghosted against her ear.

“I said run,” Rudra murmured. “I never said you’d make it.”

Her stomach twisted.

Aaradhya squeezed her eyes shut.

Escape was an illusion.

And she had never been more trapped.

Aaradhya’s fingers trembled on the locked handle. Her pulse drummed in her ears, drowning out everything but the suffocating silence between them.

She didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

But she felt him.

Too close. Too unshaken. Too in control.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm. She had thrown every ounce of her strength into escaping, only to be reminded of the unshakable truth—there was no way out.

Rudra had let her run. Had let her believe, for one fleeting second, that she had a choice.

And then he had ripped it away.

A single, humiliating tear slipped down her cheek. She bit her lip hard, willing herself not to break, not to show weakness in front of him.

But Rudra saw everything.

He always did.

The warmth of his presence curled around her like a silent storm, and then—his hand brushed against her cheek.

Aaradhya flinched. Not because his touch was rough. But because it wasn’t.

It was devastatingly gentle.

Rudra exhaled slowly, his fingers grazing the tear before he wiped it away with his thumb.

“Gattina,” he murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.

A shudder wrecked through her.

Why?

Why did he sound almost... tender?

She forced herself to meet his gaze.

Dark. Intense. A storm raging beneath a frozen surface.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

A muscle ticked in Rudra’s jaw as his fingers slid down to her chin, tilting it up. “Don’t cry,” he murmured.

She sucked in a breath.

Why? Why did he care?

She had expected him to be cruel. To punish her for trying to leave. Not this. Not him looking at her like she was something fragile, something—precious.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her voice raw.

Rudra stilled.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The weight of her words hung between them like a knife’s edge.

Then, instead of anger, his lips curled into something unreadable.

“I know.”

Aaradhya’s breath caught.

She had expected resistance. Had expected him to taunt her, to remind her that hating him wouldn’t change anything.

Instead, he said it like a fact. Like it didn’t change anything for him, either.

His hand dropped from her chin.

“Sleep,” he said, stepping back, giving her space she hadn’t expected. “You’ll need it.”

Aaradhya blinked, stunned.

He turned away, walking toward the door. And just when she thought he was about to leave, he paused.

Without looking back, he said—

“You’ll learn, gattina.”

A shiver ran down her spine.

And then, the door clicked shut behind him.

Leaving her trapped.

But this time, it wasn’t the room that suffocated her.

It was him.

_______________________________

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