Broken by him, bound to him

Chapter 12: A dangerous devotion

Monday morning came far too quickly for Naya. She rose earlier than usual, her body heavy with reluctance. Getting herself ready for work was enough of a task, but now she had to add Cain into the mix. Helping him prepare felt like double duty—intimate and yet exhausting. Their history made every brush of closeness complicated, almost unbearable, and yet she had little choice. The promotion dangled like a golden key in front of her, and this was the easiest path to reach it.

The air outside was strangely cool. Rain had fallen the last few nights, rare for Dubai, and though the showers were now fading, the city still held the scent of damp earth and washed stone. The sudden change from constant heat had left everyone refreshed, and Naya, for once, didn’t mind the chill.

She stepped out in a round yellow-and-white summer dress that swayed lightly above her knees. A white scarf wrapped softly around her neck, paired with delicate closed-toe heels. It was simple, elegant—she had chosen it to brighten her mood. Purse in hand, she scanned the street for a cab.

Just as she spotted one approaching, a sleek black car rolled up beside her. The tinted window slid down, and her heart sank. Hassan.

He stepped out with a grin stretched too wide, too rehearsed. His yellowed teeth and the lingering arrogance in his eyes made her stomach turn.

“Naya,” he greeted, voice smooth but crawling over her skin like oil. “Get in. I’d like to talk to you.”

She froze, caught between civility and instinct. She plastered on a polite smile, lifting her hand to wave down the taxi—but Hassan moved quickly, signaling the driver away.

Her chest tightened.

His gaze swept down her body in a way that made her skin prickle. Her hands, her neck, her legs—he lingered on each detail until Naya felt exposed, as though he were undressing her with nothing but his eyes. She wrapped her scarf tighter, willing herself not to flinch.

“I have an early start today,” she said firmly, her voice sharper than she intended. “Whatever you want to say, say it here. I’m not getting into your car.”

His smile faltered before returning, forced and menacing. “You remembered me. For a moment, I thought you had forgotten.”

“How could I forget?” she muttered under her breath, then louder, “What do you want, Hassan?”

“You, of course, my dear.” His tone dripped with entitlement. “Your father and I settled this years ago. His business thrives because of me. The least you can do is honor your side of the agreement. My bride.”

Naya’s pulse spiked, anger burning through the fear. “It’s the twenty-first century. Such arrangements don’t exist anymore. I am my own woman, with my own rights, and I will never be your wife. Go settle it with my father if you must. Take back the business for all I care.”

Hassan’s jaw tightened, but his eyes gleamed with something darker. “Tradition never dies, Naya. You will honor your father. You will honor me.”

As he raised his voice, his driver emerged from the car, moving toward her like a shadow ready to pounce. Panic clawed at her chest. Her instincts screamed to run, to shout, to do anything that would draw attention, but the street was empty save for the passing cars whose occupants minded their own business. She thought of bolting back into her apartment, calling the police—anything—when suddenly another black car pulled up behind Hassan’s.

The door opened, and Cain stepped out.

Naya’s breath caught. Relief and dread tangled inside her as he strode toward them in a dark suit, the cut sharp against his broad shoulders. The black shirt beneath only deepened the intensity of his eyes—eyes now fixed with lethal focus on Hassan.

“What’s going on here?” Cain’s voice was low, edged with steel. He positioned himself at Naya’s side without hesitation, his hand brushing the small of her back as though to anchor her. “Most importantly, Hassan, what are you doing here?”

Hassan faltered, suddenly less certain of himself. “I saw her waiting for a cab. I offered her a ride.” His attempt at nonchalance sounded brittle, forced.

Cain didn’t move, but the look he gave Hassan was enough to send the driver retreating back toward the car. He had seen everything—the way Hassan’s man stalked Naya like prey, the way she trembled beside him.

Hassan muttered something under his breath and slid back into his car. Within moments, they sped off, leaving silence in their wake.

Naya stood frozen, clutching her purse so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her eyes were glassy, fixed on nothing, her body still vibrating with the aftershock of fear.

Cain’s arm wrapped firmly around her waist. “Baby, what’s going on?” His voice softened now, coaxing her toward his car.

She let him guide her, still silent. Once inside, she drew in a shaky breath, trying to gather herself. Cain, ever watchful, didn’t start the engine right away. He studied her, his eyes sharp but filled with concern.

“Nothing really,” she whispered at last, though even she didn’t believe it. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from creepy men, apparently.” He turned the key, his voice clipped with barely contained anger.

To distract him, she forced a smile. “You first. Why don’t you and Ryan get along?” The previous night when she'd texted to ask him he'd told her it was late, and she should go to bed .

Cain’s jaw worked as he drove, his silence pressing heavy on her. Finally, he glanced at her, his expression blank.

“I killed his best friend.”

The words struck like a slap.

Naya blinked, stunned. A laugh slipped out before she could stop it, too sharp, too nervous. “You’re joking.”

But when she met his eyes, she knew he wasn’t.

Her breath caught. “What happened? Was it… an accident?”

His gaze dropped back to the road. “Lately, even I wonder if it was.” His voice was quiet, dark.

The car felt smaller, tighter, filled with truths she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear.

Cain shifted, his attention snapping back to her. “What about Hassan? What’s going on with him?”

Naya hesitated. For years she had buried that story, wrapped it in silence, pretending it couldn’t touch her again. But Cain’s eyes demanded honesty.

“He was my father’s friend,” she admitted.

“And?”

“And I was… betrothed to him.” She laughed weakly, the sound brittle even to her own ears. “Ridiculous, right?”.

They pulled into the company’s parking lot. Before she could escape, Cain leaned across her, pulling the door shut. His face was inches from hers, his eyes burning into her.

“Stay put.” His voice was low, commanding.

She forgot how to breathe until he sat back again.

“Tell me everything.”

So she did. She told him about her father’s failing business, Hassan’s predatory bargain, her refusal, her father’s betrayal. How she had been cast out, left to fend for herself, only for Hassan to keep pushing the deal long after she was gone.

When she finished, Cain’s silence stretched. Then, suddenly, he smiled—cold, humorless.

“Glad my tragedy amuses you,” she muttered, forcing a brittle smile too. “Now, can we go in? You have a meeting in thirty minutes.”

He didn’t move. His hand found hers, gripping tightly but comfortingly. “He scares you, doesn’t he?”

Naya turned to him, her chest rising with a shaky breath.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Cain’s jaw clenched. He looked at her as though he wanted to tear the world apart for her sake. She was his Naya. The thought of anyone making her afraid—of anyone trying to claim her—unleashed something violent inside him.

“Well then,” he said slowly, “I’ll have to make that right.”

He started the engine again. Without warning, he leaned over, buckled her seatbelt for her, and began backing out of the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” she asked, confusion slipping into alarm.

He only smiled, a dangerous curl of his lips. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?”

Her heart stumbled. She didn’t know whether to be flattered, frightened, or both.

The silence stretched, filled with tension. She thought of his earlier words, the shadow of guilt around Latif, Ryan’s friend. Cain was compassionate, yes, but anger lay beneath him like a coiled beast. She wanted to believe he couldn’t kill a man—but what if he already had? And why did part of her feel an almost shameful pull to that side of him, the side that was willing to burn the world just to keep her safe?

“Cain,” she tried again, her voice softer this time. “About Ryan’s friend. What really happened?”

He exhaled, eyes fixed on the road. “I promised my father I wouldn’t fight again after Latif. But lately, it feels like everything drags me back down that path. Hassan… he’s begging for it.”

Realization struck her like lightning. He was taking her straight to Hassan’s firm.

“No. Cain, no.” Her voice trembled, alarm spiking. “That’s not how we do things. You can’t fight him.”

Cain’s laugh was quiet, chilling. “It’s not how you do things. You don’t yet know the man you fell for, Naya. The real me is the stuff of nightmares.” He turned to her briefly, eyes blazing. “And I changed my mind. He tried to take you today, didn’t he?”

Naya’s lips parted, but no sound came. The truth hung between them. Finally, she whispered, “Yes.”

“Answer me properly, my love.” His tone dropped,

“Yes,” she admitted.

Something in his expression shifted—rage mixed with a fierce, terrifying devotion. And yet, sitting beside him, she felt safe in his storm. That, more than his words, frightened her. Safe, when she should feel terrified. Drawn, when she should be running.

“We’ll talk to him first,” Cain said at last.

Relief washed over her—but then he added calmly, “If he doesn’t listen, I’ll cripple him and burn his house down.”

“Cain, no! That will land you in prison.”

“Been there. Done that.”

“I’d do it again, if it keeps you safe.” he added calmly.

Her voice broke. “I didn’t ask for this, Cain.”

He turned to her, his hand brushing her cheek with surprising gentleness. “I know, my love. That’s why I’ll make it right.”

They pulled into Hassan’s parking lot. Cain killed the engine and stepped out before she could react. She reached for the door—only to realize he had locked her in.

“Cain!” She pushed her head through the open window, panic lacing her voice.

He turned, smirked knowingly, and lifted a hand to signal her to stay put. Then he disappeared inside the building.

Naya slumped back into the seat, helpless. Her heart pounded, her hands trembling in her lap. She whispered a silent prayer, not just for herself, but for Cain. She knew this was just the beginning. Cain had been walking around for years like a ticking time bomb, waiting for someone to give him a reason to explode.

And Hassan had just lit the match.