Captured
1991 Words
“Please! Let me go.”
The plea left her lips in a broken whisper before she gathered enough breath to say it again, louder this time, her wrists straining against the ropes that held her to the chair.
“Please... just let me go.”
The room remained silent.
She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to breathe through the fear threatening to consume her.
Every pull against the ropes left her skin burning, but she refused to stop. If they loosened even a little, she might still have a chance.
The sound of footsteps approached from the other side of the door.
She looked up as the door opened.
A man stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him before walking toward her.
He wasn't surrounded by armed guards, nor did he wear the face of someone afraid of being recognized.
He regarded her for a few seconds, then lowered his gaze to the angry marks around her wrists.
“You're hurting yourself.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You tied me up.”
“I did.”
“Then untie me.”
“My family doesn't have money worth kidnapping someone for. If this is about ransom, you've wasted your time.”
“It isn't.”
“Then what do you want?”
His expression remained unchanged, almost indifferent, as though the answer carried no weight at all.
“You.”
She stared at him.
“I don't even know you.”
“You don't have to.”
The words settled between them, making the room feel even smaller,
She swallowed, trying to steady her breathing.
“You've mistaken me for someone else.”
“I haven't.”
“I've never done anything to you.”
“I know.”
“Then why am I here?”
He slipped one hand into his pocket and looked at her as though he had been expecting the question.
“You'll be released on one condition.”
She didn't answer immediately.
“What condition?”
“You have to marry me.”
The words were so absurd that she almost smiled.
Instead, she searched his face, waiting for the slightest hint that this was some twisted joke.
“You're serious.”
“Yes.”
“You kidnapped me because you want to marry me.”
“Yes.”
She shook her head slowly.
“No.”
“It wasn't a question.”
“It doesn't matter.”
Her voice grew steadier with every word.
“I'm not marrying you.”
“You will.”
“I won't.”
“You'll change your mind.”
She let out a short laugh, disbelief replacing the fear that had consumed her only moments earlier.
“You're insane.”
“So I've been told.”
“You honestly think kidnapping a woman is the best way to ask her to marry you?”
“I wasn't asking.”
He turned toward the table beside him, picked up a dark leather folder, and placed it carefully on her lap.
“Read it.”
She looked down without touching it.
“What is it?”
“Our marriage contract.”
Her brows drew together.
“You already have a marriage contract?”
“I had one prepared.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
She lifted the folder with trembling hands, The first page carried an official seal.
Every page was filled with clauses, signatures, and legal terms she barely managed to read before reaching the final document.
Her name was printed neatly across the page,His appeared beneath it.
She read the first paragraph.
By the time she reached the end of the page, her hands had begun to shake.
“This isn't legal.”
“It is.”
“I never agreed to any of this.”
“You will.”
She looked up.
“If I sign this, you'll let me leave?”
“Yes.”
She held his gaze for several long seconds before lowering her eyes to the contract again.
“Fine.”
The answer left her lips so quietly that he almost didn't react.
“I'll sign it.”
He reached forward and untied the ropes completely before placing a fountain pen beside the folder.
“I knew you'd make the right decision.”
She rubbed her wrists slowly, flexing her fingers as though trying to ease the ache from them. The pen remained untouched.
She looked down at the last page, pretending to read the signature line one more time.
Then, without warning, she snatched the heavy folder and hurled it straight at his face.
He lifted an arm just as it struck him.
She was already running,The door stood only a few steps away.
Her fingers closed around the handle, twisting it so hard her knuckles turned white.
Before she could reach for the lock, she heard his footsteps behind her.
She spun around and shoved him with both hands, then darted toward the tall windows instead. Her eyes searched desperately for a latch, but there wasn't one.
A hand closed firmly around her wrist.
She twisted violently, driving her elbow backward with all the strength she had.
His grip loosened for a fraction of a second.
She tore herself free and sprinted toward another door across the room, refusing to believe there wasn't another way out.
She barely reached the second door before a powerful arm wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her back with enough force to throw her off balance.
Her shoulder collided with his chest as she struggled wildly, shoving against him with both hands while desperately trying to free herself.
“Let me go!”
She drove her elbow backward, caught him hard enough to make him loosen his grip, and immediately twisted away, but she had barely taken another step before he caught her wrist again.
“I said let me go!”
She fought with everything she had, kicking, scratching, and trying to wrench her hand free, refusing to surrender without exhausting every ounce of strength left in her body.
“Enough.”
His voice cut through the room with a sharpness she hadn't heard before.
She ignored him.
Her free hand reached for the nearest ornament sitting on a console table, intending to throw it straight through the window if she had to.
Before her fingers could close around it, he caught both wrists and pinned them behind her back.
For the first time since he walked into the room, the calm expression on his face disappeared.
The muscles beneath his sleeve flexed around her wrists.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but unmistakably firm. “It'll be of both our benefit.”
She laughed bitterly, breathing so hard she could barely catch her breath.
“I don't want to marry a kidnapper.”
“You're looking at this emotionally.”
“You kidnapped me!”
“I did.”
“You dragged me here against my will.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow you expect me to believe marrying you benefits me?”
“It does.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“You're unbelievable.”
He released her wrists and stepped back, creating enough distance for her to breathe without feeling trapped beneath him.
“If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have wasted my time explaining anything.”
“You're calling this an explanation?”
“You haven't allowed me to finish.”
She rubbed her wrists where his fingers had left fresh marks before glaring at him.
“I don't care what excuse you have.”
“It isn't an excuse.”
“Then what is it?”
“The truth.”
She folded her arms tightly across her chest.
“Then tell me why I'm here.”
“You're here because I chose you.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is.”
“It doesn't explain anything.”
“It explains enough.”
She shook her head slowly, frustration beginning to replace the fear that had consumed her moments earlier.
“You don't know me.”
“I know what I need to know.”
“You've never spoken to me before today.”
“No.”
“You've never met my family.”
“No.”
“You know absolutely nothing about me.”
He regarded her quietly before walking back toward the table.
The leather folder still lay where it had fallen.
He picked it up, brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the cover, and placed it neatly on the table once again.
“This contract is straightforward,” he said. “You become my wife, your family remains untouched, you'll have complete financial security, and after the agreed period, you're free to leave with everything the contract promises.”
She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
“You make it sound like a business merger.”
“It is.”
“My life isn't a business.”
“To me, this marriage is.”
She let out a slow breath, trying to understand how someone could speak about marriage with such terrifying indifference.
“You're asking me to spend years with a man I don't even know.”
“You'll know me.”
“I don't want to.”
“You'll adapt.”
She almost smiled.
“No, I won't.”
He slid the folder closer.
“Read every page.”
“I already did that.”
“Read them properly.”
Finally, she walked back toward the table, more because her legs had grown tired than because she intended to cooperate.
She pulled out a chair and sat down.
He opened the folder, turning the pages one by one.
“The marriage will remain confidential until I decide otherwise.”
She didn't respond.
“You'll continue your education.”
“You're not expected to change your religion, your name, or abandon your family.”
She rested her chin against her hand, listening despite herself.
“You'll have personal security at all times.”
“I don't need security.”
“You do now.”
He continued explaining each clause with the same composure he had shown from the moment he entered the room, never rushing, never raising his voice, speaking as though they were discussing nothing more than the terms of an ordinary business agreement.
When he reached the final page, he placed the contract in front of her.
“Sign it.”
Her eyes remained on the document for a long moment before she finally spoke.
“How did you find me?”
“You don't have to worry about that.”
“I am worrying about it.”
“It doesn't concern you.”
“It concerns me if I'm the one sitting here.”
He met her gaze.
“You have your answer.”
“No, I don't.”
“You have all the answers you're getting.”
She laughed quietly, though there wasn't a trace of amusement behind it.
“You expect me to marry a stranger who refuses to tell me why he chose me or how he even found me.”
“I expect you to honor the contract.”
“There isn't a contract.”
“There will be.”
Silence settled between them again.
She lowered her eyes to the papers spread across the table.
For the first time since waking up in that room, she didn't argue.
She simply picked up the contract, staring at the signature line for what felt like forever.
He watched her without interrupting.
She reached for the pen.
His expression softened, almost imperceptibly.
Then she looked up, met his eyes, and slowly tore the first page in half.
Every neatly prepared clause, every carefully printed condition, every signature scattered across the polished floor until nothing remained in her hands but scraps.
She let the final piece fall between them.
“I'd rather die than marry you.”
- Writer
