"Just breathe," she mutters under breath, but the words dissolve into hysterical chuckles, bubbling up uncontrollably. Years of experience with abduction tells her she's in an abandoned warehouse, yet the strength to search for an escape eludes her. They hold her captive for a purpose she dreads to face. Her limbs ache from hours of being chained, and still her abductor doesn't show. Left alone with her thoughts, nothing can go worse then, right?

Why again and again? Ah, ever since the old man announced her as the rightful heir to the throne, it had been a nightmare that isn't any less nightmarish than the past. But now, one rival after another abduct her, leaving her battered and bleeding yet somehow still alive to endure another ordeal. Pathetic. That was precisely what the old man wanted, and the desperate fools had walked straight into his trap.

She sighs as sweat trickles down her face, her body itching from the mix of dust and perspiration. Her eyes scan the darkness for a hint of light, not out of fear but to confirm whether she's alive or trapped in hell. The darkness no longer shatters her spirit; she was becoming accustomed to everything she shouldn't have to abide.

The sliding door opens with a smooth, gliding whoosh, followed by soft clatter as it settles into place. A sudden shaft of light slaps across her face,, making her curse under breathe as it burns her skin. The chains rattle at her frustrated jerk, a vain attempt to find comfort in her restraints. She can hear the slow, deliberate footsteps approaching-slower than a snail's pace, as though he's savoring each moment. Does he realize he's inviting a death sentence upon himself?

Her vision struggles to focus on the silhouette emerging from the light into darkness. Yet, something about him feels less intimidated than she expected. Instead of being cautious, she senses a strange peace settling over after seven long years-a peace that her stepfather shattered right before her eyes.

His presence demands obedience, yet she feels found after being lost for so long. She can't explain it, but her pulse quickens as he steps closer, standing tall in front of her. As if sensing her unspoken thoughts, he leans down grabbing her chin harshly and lifting her to her feet. His eyes lock into hers, but she can barely figure out who he is.

The pain isn't from his grip; it comes from the flicker of hope igniting in her heart. "Could those hazel eyes belong to him?" Her heart races with anticipation. She remembers the old man slashing away her faint hope of ever being loved. She scolds herself for being delusional-he couldn't be alive. She watched the mansion burn, consumed by betrayal that destroyed everything. The darkness around her feels suffocating. Had he been alive all this time while she cursed and punished herself for not preventing the tragedy? As if, she could.

"Remember me, Lasha." His voice in low, sending shivers down her spine. His grip tightens on her chin, and her lips part in shock. She can never forget his voice; it's her lullaby amid days of terrors.

"You...alive?" She barely manages to whisper. Her heart flips in every direction, her mind racing through countless possibilities.

"Shouldn't I be, Lashika Mauryavanshi? Or should I say, crowned princess of The Mauryavanshi Syndicate." His mockery drips with hatred. Lasha's breathe hitches at the sound of her name; she wants to retort, "Crowned princess, a mere pawn in his dirty games." But his tone makes it clear he isn't seeking explanation-he's searching for a target to strike.

His grip tightens further, not to inflict pain but to assert control. Is he really him? In the moment, warehouse lights up, revealing all her turmoil in stark clarity. He was real. Alive. Memories of the mansion, the fire, the scream flood back, clashing violently with the image of him standing before her, staring into her eyes.

Her heart soars at the sight of him, alive. She mourned his loss every day, wishing for a miracle and now he is here-alive, healthy, fit. She subconsciously tugs at chains that bind her, yearning to hug him in relief. That's when panic surges-he is her abductor. Clarity fades, and the faint flicker of recognition morphs into something darker, like a warning.

His lips lips curl into a sardonic smile as he leans closer, his breathe hot against her ear. His voice drips in disdain, as if her existence was senseless, "Did you really believe you could burn our family away with that mansion?" He pulls back, holding her gaze, drawing her close. "Well, you did" he pauses, collecting himself, his gaze darkens further. "Guess what? Your destroyers survive-my brother and I." He sneers, pulling her closer until there is barely any space between them. "Didn't think I'd be alive?"

None of his words register in their proximity. Everything feels right as she wishes it could be, yet twisted in misery.
The eyes she once longs to see gleam with happiness as she watch her reflection in them, now hold nothing but hatred towards for her perceived betrayal.
The corner of his lips, which once twitched into smile that brightens her world, now twists into a smirk, a silent promise to destroy as a form of redemption to his loss.
She loved him silently, not to be noticed but to be felt, and here he is-standing so close, radiating heat of rage instead of warmth.
Her quiet, selfless devotion attracted deafening vengeful destruction.

Rudraj Khurana, the crowned prince of The Khurana Empire, stands before her, embodying her beautifully twisted yet calmly soothing unrequited love.

What is she supposed to feel? Should she be happy that the only man she ever committed herself to-though he is unaware, is alive? Or mourn the loss of her crushed hopes that he will ever acknowledge her devotion?

Despite the chaos swirling in her mind, her heart clung to one unshakeable truth-she longs for him, her Rud, the man she cherished and loved beyond reason. As her eyes searches his, pouring her devotion in every glance, she sees only a shadow.

To Rudraj, Lashika is nothing more than a bait-a pawn in his relentless game of revenge. His gaze, cold and calculated, never softens as it lingers on her delicate face, a cruel reminder of the innocent he seeks to extinguish. Every glance is a step closer to his dark goal, and the longing in her eyes? It was invisible, irrelevant; what has been reduced to ashes is not just the mansion, but his very heart. In seeking to destroy his enemy, he unravels the very soul that had once been his sanctuary.

"I'll avenge him through you, sweetheart." His voice is husky, breaking through fog of her thoughts. The endearment tugs at her heartstrings, his dark voice and tight grip do not escape her, grounding her in the reality of their situation. I am not who I was. She can never be his solace when she herself is deprived of it. At this moment, all she should care about is protecting her syndicate, and all she can offer her love is protection from the upcoming disaster. Once she failed; not again.

His eyes roam on her features, searching for signs of fear, but she remains an enigma, masking her expressions from vulnerability which held something; he couldn't understand-said many things yet he didn't want to know them. "Do you think acting innocent will free you from here?" He taunts, his voice low, desperate for a reaction. To his dismay, her response was sharp, faint chuckle that erupts in a loud mocking laugh, echoing off the cold walls-a sound that feels like both a taunt and a sorrowful melody.

Sensing his bewildered gaze, she pauses, the weight of losing her last thread of being loved gone pressing down on her sanity, "Do you think the crowned princess of the Mauryavanshi Syndicate would be left with few guards?" His frown deepens as fragments of a report flash in his mind-no need for A-ranked forces. "Should I reflect why in words?" Her voice trembles, laced with an unsettling mix of concern and resignation, but he ignores her as anger bursts through him, in haste he grabs her by her throat.

Disgust channels through him as he tightens his grip, a betrayal of his promise to the most valued woman in his life; he will never harm a woman, be it any situation. Irony pierces his thoughts; the same woman burnt alive in the mansion because of the woman standing before him. He feels lost without his mother's presence and he doesn't care about his ways or actions; he owes it-to give them justice. His heart aches with the memory of his mother's painful screams; it was unbearable.

Lost in his agony, he doesn't realize his grip is crushing the breath from her lungs. Her eyes, wide with panic, reflect a haunting acceptance as he hovers on the edge of murder-of an innocent's life; an unknown regret waiting for him. With her hands chained, she is powerless to fight back, and in that specific moment, a dark relief washes over her-surrendering her life of misery, even if it means leaving it all in the arms of her love turned lethal; a faint blessing to her cursed life.

As her vision blurs, her mother's words echo in her mind, her owe; urging her to protect him, jolts like a electricity through her. Death sometimes feels like a welcome escape, yet she stubbornly clings to the purpose that keeps her tethered to this world.

"Ru..d," she gasps, barely forming the syllables. But he is too far gone in his torment to hear.

"Sir, you wanted her alive," a guard reminds him, snapping Rudraj back to reality. Never in her life, did she feel thankful to those emotionless robots who breathe until today, the urgency in the guard's voice is a lifeline. Rudraj steps back, horror flooding him as he releases her, watching her collapse into violent coughs, disbelief etches across his face. He mentally thanked his brother for ordering his guards to remind him if he crosses any boundaries, he can't stain his mother's morals in impulsiveness.

Her struggle for breathe is an abrupt reminder of the girl she once was, the change too intense to label as good or worse. Tears streams down her composure, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze softens, a flicker of the connection he once shared. But everything vanishes in her next low broken statement, "I am your...only escape."

Her gaze is sharp, revealing no emotions. Her pale face a testament to the stunt he pulled. Instead of understanding, he feels her mocking him, and his gaze hardens. He chooses to keep distance, a silent vow to avoid any sins he might commit in his rage and agony.

"Naive of you, Lasha. Do you really think I'm back for an escape?" His voice is edged with suppressed anger, underlined by the unwavering confidence that he will make her pay for his sins. He rubs his thumb over the ring on his index finger, the only thing tethering him to sanity, though to her, it appears as merely a clenched fist.

"Two weeks before the coronation of their new queen. Do you think the crowned princess would be left with weak security?" Her voice, strained yet calm, resonates with an authority that surprises him. Her subtle try to make him understand the gravity of the situation, as she continues in his silence, maybe, just maybe, he was reading her right, "Accept it or not, you've walked into his vicious web."

Throwing her head back, she attempts to unnerve her tensed muscles. Her limbs ache from the chains, numbing them completely. He stands still, rubbing his ring, finally noticing how she has transformed, the girl he knew seven years ago is gone. Once cheerful, she now embodies a woman cloaked in secrets. Where she once wore light, lively colors, now she is draped in black; leaving no inch of her skin. Unlikely to the future queen, she looks homeless and lost in weight of sorrows. Her face distant and unreadable, contrary to his thought there isn't a hint of amusement of being abducted, what more to expect from a lazy future Mafia Queen?

"You expect me to believe a daughter of a nefarious man?" Rudraj taunts, his disdain evident. To his surprise, she unveils an unguarded expression from her-rage, "My father is Vardhan Mauryavanshi, who dies a martyr," she fires back.

For a fleeting moment, he is taken back. He quickly composing himself, realizing he's referenced to her stepfather and not her real father, he sneers, "Don't play games, Lasha. You know who I mean-the man who loves and treasures you so much he destroys our family." His words drip with mockery.

She averts her gaze, and he assumes it's shame. Little does he know it's guilt, buried deep beneath her steely exterior. I am full of unsaid words-if only I could share them with you, Rud. But she can never share them with him now. She closes her eyes helplessly before taking a deep breath and facing him. He watches her intently as she stands with newfound determination.

"Rud...raj," Her heart aches to call him Rud as she has always dreamed, but she's forced to address him properly. She notices how his face twitches with an inexplicable expression before blinking it away to normal as she finishes his name. "You want revenge, and I am of no use to it if you're holding me for him. But" she pauses calmly , "I can help you against him."

Uncertainty flashes in his demeanor It's been hours since they captured her, yet the man she calls her stepfather has made no move to search for her. The entire locality is under Rudraj's control, and he would know if anyone tried to break-in. What is the man planning to do?

"Power is the double-edged sword, Rudraj. I don't have to explain that to the future Royal King, do I?" Her words cut through his clouded thoughts. If her stepfather loves and treasures her so much as he proclaims, why hasn't he acted? They are the high influencers in the territory. Despite the thoughts splitting his mind, he knows she's a key part of his revenge saga. His mind swirling with various questions, he choose to ask the most relevant one at this point.

"Why would you help your abductor?" His voice betrays his curiosity and she stares at him. Her soul whispers what he will never hear: Because once, I craved to heal, to live, and for your love. Those words will never reach him. She believes she's incapable of being loved by him, her scars binding her soul in the darkness. But, she will always love him, expecting nothing in return. He will never know what he is losing, as she believes herself unworthy of his acknowledgment.

His eyes focus on her, waiting for her answer, oblivious to the treasure of selfless love that surrounds him, considering she has never expressed him how deeply she values him.

She steels herself for what she's about to say. She smiles, consoling her soul, accepting that her hope to love someone divinely in this dark, shattered world is unrequited-even if, in her heart he is beloved. Words of her turmoil rolls off her lips.
"If I can't have love, I want power."

Rudraj's eyes dart to her in disbelief as he rubs the ring, the realization hitting him hard. She has changed-a lot. His face displays a mix of emotions, his eyes hardening. His thumb presses harshly against the ring on his index finger. Overwhelmed by the sudden rush of feelings, he chuckles, though he can't explain why. His thumb moves over the ring, covering the engraving, before he rubs it harshly in agony, clutching the inscription in his fist. It's a platinum ring with a name written in beautiful cursive-the name of the only woman who rules his heart, though she's unaware of it. His lazy, free-spirited sweetheart.
"Lash"

He is her unrequited love; then is she just his bait, or is she something more-a truth that remains hidden behind his revenge?

Thankyou for reading.
Have a good day ♡