Aryan's Lethal Obsession

She walked into that club ready to sell herself-
not for pleasure, not for desire,
but because desperation makes even innocence cheap.

She expected darkness.
She didn't expect to stare straight into the eyes of the devil who ruled it.

Aryan Abdullah.

A man who kills without blinking,
commands without raising his voice,
and destroys anything that shakes in fear before him.

She shouldn't have seen the blood on his hands.
She shouldn't have watched him pull the trigger.

Witnesses die in Aryan's world.
Always.
No exceptions.

But she wasn't killed.
No-
he chose a fate far crueler.

He stepped behind her,
wrapped his arm around her waist,
pressed his chest to her trembling back,
and locked her shaking fingers around the gun.

"This is hell," he whispered,
before forcing her hand to fire the bullet.

Her innocence died with the gunshot.
Her soul burned with it.
Her freedom was buried beneath his claim.

"She is mine."

The moment she became a sinner,
she became his-
a possession carved in fear,
a witness turned weapon,
a girl the devil decided he was going to keep.

She wanted to save her father.
She ended up belonging to a monster.

And Aryan?
He doesn't want forgiveness.
He doesn't want redemption.
He only wants her-
terrified, stained, and tied to him with blood she never meant to spill.

In his world, hell isn't a punishment.
It's a home-
and he just dragged her inside.