CHAPTER 14 : Captured, Not Saved
1502 Words
CHAPTER 14 : Captured, not Saved
Yamraaj didn’t answer my question.
That silence stretched—thick, deliberate.
The kind meant to make people uncomfortable.
Unfortunately for him, discomfort and I were already well-acquainted.
“So,” I tried again, softer this time, “my friends?”
The Rakshasa shifted behind him.
Claws scraped stone.
A warning sound, low and ugly.
Abhay didn’t look back at him.
“They live,” he said at last.
Relief punched the air out of my lungs as i took out breathe.
I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding that fear until it loosened all at once.
“…Good,” I signed .
Then, because my survival instincts were clearly broken, I added, “huh ?..Define live.”
That finally got a reaction.
Yamraaj's eyes darkened. Not anger—something colder. calculated .
“They are contained,” he state. “As you are.”
Ah.
Prison. But make it aesthetic.
I tried to sit up.
The restraints responded immediately, tightening just enough to remind me they were there.
“Right,” I said. “So this is more of a group booking situation.”
“Silence,” the Rakshasa snapped.
I glanced at him. “Wow. you finally You talk Rakshasa ”
He took a sharp step forward.
Abhay lifted one finger. only 1 finger .
The Rakshasa stopped instantly, muscles locked, jaw clenched. Power rolled off Abhay in waves—quiet, absolute.
Not shouted.
Not shown.
Assumed.
Abhay stepped closer to the bed, close enough that I could see the faint glow of markings along his skin, pulsing slowly, like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to me.
Or maybe did.
The thought slid in uninvited.
He looked down at me with a doubt . “You speak too freely for a human who woke in restraints."
I shrugged, the motion shallow. “Near-death experience. Really frees you up.”
His gaze sharpened. Studied me like a problem he didn’t enjoy having.
“You should be afraid,” he said.
I met his eyes.
“I was,” I replied honestly. “Earlier. When I thought I was dying.”
His expression didn’t change, but something tightened in the air.
“ now?”he asked with his intense eyes .
I thought about it.
The pain—still there, dulled but persistent. The room. The creatures. The fact that I was clearly not in my world anymore.
I thought about the forest going quiet when he appeared.
About his tail moving without permission.
About how my body had stopped shaking the moment he’d grabbed me.
“I think,” I slowed tell him while keeping look at his crimson-eyes , “if you wanted me dead, I wouldn’t be awake.”
The Rakshasa growled.
Yamraaj didn’t deny it.
He leaned in, forearm braced against the stone near my shoulder. Not touching me—but close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the weight of his presence pressing down.
“You are here because I allow it,” he said quietly.
“Good,” I replied. “Because I’m not done being alive yet.”
His jaw flexed.
For a moment—just a moment—I thought he might smile.
Instead, he straightened abruptly.
“You will remain here,” he said. “You will not leave this chamber without my command. You will not test the restraints again.”
“And if I do?”
His tail flicked once which was Sharp and Irritated.
“Then I stop being patient.”
I swallowed.
Then nodded. “Fair.”
He turned to leave.
At the threshold, he paused.
“don't call me Yamraaj again.” His steps slowed.
Just a fraction.
“So,” I added, forcing lightness into my voice, “what should I call you?”
He didn’t turn.
Didn’t acknowledge me.
“Rakshasa?” I tried.
“Yamraaj?”
“Or should I stick with—”
He stopped.
Completely.
The silence stretched—heavy, deliberate. Long enough that my pulse picked up.
Then, without looking back—
“Abhay.”
One word.
Flat. Controlled.
The door sealed shut.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“…Right,” I muttered.
“Abhay.”
He didn’t look back—but the air warmed, like something dangerous had just decided not to burn me yet.
________
I was halfway between awake and not when the pressure returned.
Not the restraints.
Him.
The air thickened, like the chamber had inhaled and forgotten how to exhale. My body reacted before my brain caught up—muscles tensing, breath shortening.
I opened my eyes.
Abhay stood at the foot of the bed.
I hadn’t heard him enter.
That alone sent a chill up my spine.
“You moved,” he said.
Not loud. Not angry.
Final.
“I adjusted,” I corrected weakly. “Breathing thing.”
His gaze dropped to my chest.
The restraints tightened suddenly.
Hard.
Pain flared sharp and immediate, crushing air from my lungs. I gasped, fingers clawing uselessly at the stone as my body arched despite itself.
“Stop,” I choked.
The pressure held for one terrifying second longer—
Then eased.
I sucked in air, chest burning, vision swimming.
Abhay hadn’t moved.
“That,” he said calmly, “was a warning.”
My heart hammered so hard it hurt.
Message received.
He stepped closer, boots silent on stone, until he was right beside the bed. One clawed finger lifted my chin—not gently, not cruelly. Just enough to force my eyes to his.
“You do not decide when you test this place,” he said. “You do not decide how much your body can take.”
I swallowed. “You’re very… hands-on with the rules.”
His grip tightened fractionally.
“You are alive because I chose restraint,” he replied. “Do not confuse that with mercy.”
His eyes flicked—just once—to where his tail rested, coiled and tense.
Like it wanted to move again.
Something in my chest reacted—heat, sharp and sudden. I sucked in a breath, startled.
He noticed.
Immediately.
His pupils narrowed. His hand dropped from my chin, but the space he left felt deliberate, controlled.
“You feel that,” he said.
Not a question.
I forced a crooked smile. “I feel a lot of things. Near-death does wonders for self-awareness.”
The restraints tightened again.
Not painful this time.
Possessive.
They pinned me exactly where I lay, leaving no room to shift, no illusion of freedom.
Abhay leaned down, close enough that his breath brushed my cheek.
“Speak like that again,” he said quietly, “and I will remove the humor from this situation.”
I believed him.
Completely.
Silence stretched between us, thick and dangerous.
Finally, he straightened.
“You will not call out,” he said. “You will not attempt to leave. You will not ask about the others again until I allow it.”
I frowned. “And if I break a rule?”
His tail flicked once.
He turned to leave.
At the door, he paused.
“You are not fearless,” he added, without looking back. “You are reckless.”
The chamber sealed shut.
I lay there, chest aching, heart racing, body still humming from the way he’d controlled everything—space, breath, pain, relief.
“…Wow,” I muttered hoarsely. “Okay.”
The restraints remained tight.
Unyielding.
And for the first time, I understood the truth of it:
This wasn’t a stalemate.
This was Abhay letting me exist.
And he could take that back whenever he wanted.
The restraints didn’t loosen after he left.
That was deliberate.
I tested them once—barely a thought, more habit than defiance.
They didn’t tighten.
Didn’t need to.
Message already delivered.
I lay still, staring at the ceiling, breathing through the ache in my chest. Every inhale felt measured now, like the room itself was counting with me. Watching. Reporting.
“So this is my life,” I murmured. “Stone bed. Glowy walls. Demon king with control issues.”
The walls didn’t respond.
Figures.
Time passed strangely here. No sense of night or day. Just the low hum, steady and patient. Like it knew I’d crack before it did.
I didn’t.
Eventually, the pain dulled to a background throb. Exhaustion crept in, heavy and unavoidable.
Right before sleep claimed me, something brushed against my ankle.
Warm.
Solid.
His tail.
Just once. Brief. Controlled.
Not a threat.
Not comfort either.
A reminder.
I froze, heart racing.
The touch vanished.
The restraints loosened a fraction—enough to breathe easier, nothing more.
“Wow,” I whispered into the dark. “You’re really committed to the intimidation thing.”
No answer.
But the room felt… satisfied.
As sleep finally dragged me under, one thought burned clear and sharp:
Abhay wasn’t done asserting control.
He was just getting started.
- Writer
