𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬.
Love is hope for the hopeless and sin for the saint. Love makes you do things you never intended to do, but it's distinct when you hold hands and promise to behold each oth...
Warning: This chapter contains mentions of heavy torture and blood.
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The metal door groaned as it opened, a sound that felt like a warning bell. The air inside was heavy, suffocating, and filled with an unspoken tension that made my steps falter. Two guards flanked me, their grip on my arms firm. Their presence should have been reassuring, but the weight of their touch made my stomach churn. Why the fuck two male guards are touching me! Where was the female guard? This was illegal.
But my rising indignation evaporated the moment my eyes landed on him.
Rutvik— Prisoner 704, for them—sat in the center of the room, wrapped in heavy iron chains that bound his wrists, ankles, and torso. The metal looked oppressive, designed to subdue the most dangerous of men. Yet Rutvik didn't seem subdued. If anything, he appeared utterly unbothered, his posture commanding as though he ruled the room, as though those chains were nothing more than a temporary inconvenience.
His head tilted slightly as his dark eyes settled on me, first with amusement, then with an unmistakable flare of anger as they dropped to the guards holding me.
But it wasn't Rutvik alone who made the room suffocating. Behind him stood nine police officers, thirteen army soldiers, and four Black Cat commandos. Each one was armed, their eyes trained on him like a pack of predators afraid of the prey. Yet none of them overshadowed Rutvik.
The door slammed shut behind me with a deafening clang, and I flinched.
But he didn't.
The air grew heavier as I hesitated under the weight of their collective gaze, but it was his presence that made my pulse quicken. His calm in the face of such hostility was unnerving. How can he be so calm?
"Sit," one of the guards barked, his voice slicing through the silence.
I nodded, my legs shaky as I took the chair furthest from Rutvik. My fingers gripped the edge of the table like a lifeline, grounding me against the mess I got myself into.
The faint rattle of chains drew my attention back to him. His eyes were fixed on me now, dark and unreadable.
"Five," he said suddenly, his voice low and deliberate.
Five? Five what?
The door opened again before I could decipher his words. A man in a sharp suit strode in, his polished shoes clicking on the floor. He carried a thick file, which he dropped onto the table with a loud thud.
"Prisoner No. 704," the man began, his voice sharp, his expression stern. "How do you explain the disappearance of trial records, confidential files, and surveillance footage from the central database?"
The officer's gaze turned to me. His suspicion was a physical weight.
Rutvik's lips twitched into a faint smile as he leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto mine, completely ignoring everyone. "Did you eat, my Ella?"
