Chapter 2

Running away

"Thats it, she can't roam around like this or I am sure I will lose my leftover control."

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He was caressing her hair, still hovering over her, one hand gripping her waist while the other rested against her chest, fingers tangled in her soft strands.

"So... it's time for your gift now," he murmured, pulling back slightly—but still close enough to feel her breath on his lips.

She instantly stepped back from him, eyes wide.

"Change into the dress in the washroom," he said casually, as if he hadn't just had her caged under him moments ago. His tone carried finality.

"You have five minutes." He dropped onto the sofa, phone in hand, but his eyes—those dark, dangerous eyes—were locked on her.

She didn't move.

"Five minutes, Anaya," he repeated, voice clipped.

Swallowing hard, she turned and walked to the bathroom in small, hesitant steps, locking the door behind her. Her hands were slightly trembling as she scanned the room.

There it was—a black box on the counter.

She opened it.

Inside lay an off-shoulder black bodycon gown. It shimmered with elegance, and at the left shoulder, a diamond sat like a cold warning. Sharp. Delicate. Precious. Dangerous.

"Is it really necessary to change?" she shouted from the bathroom, nerves fraying.

"Three minutes left, Anaya," he responded flatly.

Gritting her teeth, she slipped into the dress. It hugged every inch of her like a second skin, accentuating her natural curves. She stepped out.

Zayn looked up from his phone—and the world seemed to stop.

His gaze roamed over her. Possession. Hunger. Obsession. Every emotion flickered through his eyes in seconds.

He wasn't just admiring her.

He was claiming her with a look.

He would never let her go. Not now. Not ever.

He rose slowly from the sofa, walking toward her with the grace of a predator.

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ANAYA

I don't understand him.

He's too... complicated. One moment, he cares for me—and I like that. But then, he turns cold, dark, and terrifying.

It's like hugging fire. I want the warmth, but it burns me alive.

He looked so dashing, walking toward me in that all-black ensemble, but at the same time... my breath caught in fear.

I hate how he scolds me, even when I don't know what I've done wrong.

I called him Bhai, just like everyone told me to. He's older than me, so isn't it respectful? But no—he snapped at me, as if the word was poison to his ears.

We have such an age gap that I hesitate to even say his name. And when I'm nervous... the word Bhai just slips out.

He reached me. His tall figure towered over me, and he pulled me closer by the waist. My forehead knocked against his solid chest.

I promise i wont-say bhai again.

"B-Bhai—" I gasped.

Shit.

With a thud, my back hit the cold wall. Hard.

Pain shot through my spine and I hissed, wincing.

Before I could recover, he gripped my jaw tightly, forcing my gaze to his.

"Anaya, Anaya, Anaya..." he growled, rage vibrating through his voice. "Can't you just understand me once?"

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered, trying to twist my face out of his hold.

"No, sweetheart. You don't get to be sorry."

His voice dropped, low and threatening.

"You have a very bad habit of not listening. And do you know what I do to people who don't take me seriously?" he whispered, his face so close, I could feel his breath on my skin.

His dark brown eyes were tinted red. His clean-shaven cheek brushed mine, and I flinched.

"No, no—please. I promise I won't say it again," I begged, my voice cracking.

"There's no escape from my cage, little bird," he said, darkly amused. "Your wings? Already clipped."

I had to do something.

Anything.

With every ounce of fear, I bit his shoulder. Hard.

He didn't budge.

So I bit harder.

He hissed.

That's when I ran.

I ran for my life.

Straight into his library, locking the door behind me.

My heart thundered. My body trembled.

And then—his laughter echoed from outside.

Not anger. Amusement.

That scared me more.

Would he lock me in the basement again? Starve me of warmth, of light?

He knocked.

"Open the door, Anaya," he said, dangerously calm.

I curled into the corner, hugging my knees, covering my ears.

"Anaya, this is the last time I'm asking. Open the freaking door!"

Click.

The lock turned.

I looked up.

He was there.

Towering. Breathing heavily. Unblinking.

"There's no escape now," I whispered to myself.

He stepped in.

"Running from your deadliest nightmare?" he said, voice like a slow burn.

He grabbed my arm and slammed me against the study table, bending me over it.

"Every path you take leads back to me," he whispered near my ear. "Your soul? Already marked. Your fear? Mine. Your boldness? Dangerous—it tempts the starving monster in me."

I couldn't breathe.

He terrified me.

He owned me.

"I-I'm sorry, Zayan," I whispered, tears threatening to spill. "I won't do it again. Please..."

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they held fire.

"Zayan?" I tried again.

He tilted his head slightly. "You've learned how to say my name now, hmm?" he said with a wicked smirk.

He laced our fingers together, tightly. "Good. You'll need it later... when you beg."

He suddenly scooped me up and walked out of the library.

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Zayn took Anaya to a high-end restaurant, the aura of opulence dripping from every marble wall and golden chandelier.

As they entered, staff members bowed.

Anaya felt awkward. Why are they bowing to me?

They sat across from each other, the silence thick. Zayn reached out, placing his hand on hers.

She didn't know what to say.

She never did.

"What would you like to eat, doll?" he asked.

"Anything," she replied quietly.

He placed the order, then leaned back in his chair, eyes watching her every move.

"Do you like the place?" he asked.

She nodded.

"You can make changes if you want. After all..." He paused. "It's yours now."

She blinked. "What?"

"I've transferred the restaurant to your name. For your birthday."His voice was still cold

She choked on her breath. "Why?"

He smirked. "Because I want to. And because I can."

His eyes darkened slightly.

"But since you misbehaved earlier, a little punishment will be included with your gift."

He rubbed his temple, eyes closed for a second.

"And I'm sure you'll enjoy the punishment just as much as I will," he added with a devilish grin.

She stayed silent.

The dinner passed quietly.

The drive back to his mansion was just as silent—until she hesitantly spoke.

"You can drop me at home..."

He cut her off coldly. "Did I ask for your opinion?"

Her heart dropped.

They reached his mansion around 1 a.m.

Her pulse raced.

She knew.

He wouldn't let her go.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

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Thank you