Nina hated the wait.

She sat in the corner of the room with her back against the wall and her eyes trained on the door. She was sure her captor would return to torture her painfully for stabbing him in the arm.

She felt a crippling exhaustion in her body due to lack of sleep during the past week of her captivity. Her head kept falling forward, trying to reach for the comfort of sleep. But each time it did, she jerked it back up, refusing to give in to sleep. Especially when she was at her most vulnerable.

She didn’t know whether attacking him was a logical move. But when he had stalked her in a slow, unhurried manner, with menace radiating from his body, demanding his knife back, he had looked like a hunter who had cornered his prey. And she was his trembling, whimpering prey. Her mind had rebelled instantly at the comparison of herself with a prey. She wasn’t weak. She had never been weak. Even when the odds were stacked against her, she had always fought back. And so, not making this time any exception, she had sliced his arm.

And now, the thought of what he could do to her was tearing her apart.

Will he come to her room tonight? And if so, what will he do? Will he follow through his threats?

She thought about the video taken to send it to Suraj. Her captor had spoken about the follow-up videos. She didn’t have to guess about his intentions of what the later videos would contain.

Nina’s thoughts threatened to take her into darkness to escape into a place where there would be no worry or fear.

Don’t you dare give up!

She shivered and rubbed at her trembling arms as her mind ordered her not to give in to fear. But even as she talked herself into being brave, her heart almost stopped when the door to the room opened.

Her captor entered the room once again.

He saw her crouched on the floor. “Come with me,” he said in a quiet tone.

Although the tone was quiet, dread shot up in her. She noticed that unlike the other man who had choked her, this man never raised his voice. It only made her fear him even more.

She shook her head at him as an answer even though her entire body trembled.

His nostrils flared. “I already told you what would happen if you don’t follow my orders. Move.”

With shaking legs, she slowly stood up, but made no attempt to go towards him.

He covered the distance and grabbed her arm. And then he began dragging her towards his bedroom.

Panic tore through her, and she dug in her heels. “No! I’m not coming!”

He threw her another cold look before continuing to drag her out.

Her panic exploded, and she began kicking and screaming. “Stop!” she screamed. When she tried to knee him, he held her arms and swung her up and threw her over his shoulder.

The impact robbed her of her breath. She couldn’t speak or shout. And her stomach hurt as it jostled against his hard shoulder.

As soon as he took her into the room, he set her on her feet with a jarring thud. And before she could scream once again, her eyes fell on the older man who was also in the room. He was pouring steaming, hot water into a large bowl.

Her mind froze.

Was her captor planning to pour boiling water on her skin? Was that better than being raped?

Her panicked brain threw in various scenarios her captor could use the boiling water and also the bed to rape her. He would send those videos to Suraj and—

“Stitch.”

It took a while for that order to process through her terrified mind. “What?” she asked in a shaking voice.

“You cut me open. So you’ll have to be the one to stitch me back up.”

Her eyes flew from the hot water and fell on the bandages placed on the table next to the bed. She could also see a needle and some thread. “I-I can’t,” she whispered, understanding what he wanted. Even though her brain knew she wasn’t going to be violated or physically tortured, the panic still remained.

“You can, and you will stitch my wounds.”

“I can’t,” she said with a weak voice. “I’ve never done it before.”

He watched her with an expressionless look. “You’ve never stitched before? Aren’t you supposedly one of the most sought-after exclusive clothes designers in the city?” There was a hint of mockery in his tone.

“I know how to stitch fabric, not… not… human skin,” she said with a slight involuntary shudder. Her stomach which was still a bit queasy after being thrown over his shoulder began to churn even more.

“It’s the same thing, Mrs. Bhupati. Get going.”

Her eyes searched for the old man in the room, but he wasn’t there. She realized he must have left them. She desperately hoped he would return soon.

“Move!” her captor snapped.

She jumped and followed him as he sat on his bed with his back to the headboard and stretched his legs in front of him.

Her legs faltered when she saw him removing his shirt and throwing it into a corner of the bed. Her eyes fell on his chest and lingered for a couple of seconds before looking away hurriedly.

When her eyes fell on his face again, she noticed that he was watching her with another expressionless look. Biting her lip to stop it from trembling, she slowly covered the remaining distance.

He pointed his chin to the table next to him. “Clean and disinfect the area before you begin stitching,” he instructed.

Taking the clean cloth the old man had left next to the hot water, she dipped it in the water and wiped his wounded arm. The cut was open wide, and even though she wiped it with the wet cloth, fresh blood oozed out.

She didn’t know why, but the sight of his blood almost shocked her. Maybe because until then, she had thought of him as a horrible monster. And to see him, bloodied and vulnerable like everyone else, it somehow forced her to think of him as a human.

“Disinfect.”

His command snapped her out of her fanciful thoughts. He might be a human, but he was also a human who wanted to hurt her. With trembling hands, she picked up the small bottle left behind by the old man and poured some into the cloth. And then, she wiped it across the cut.

Her captor barely flinched, even though she was sure his wound must feel like it was on fire. He reached for something on the nightstand.

It was a whiskey bottle. Twisting the bottle cap using one hand, he picked it up and sipped straight from it. He took three or four sips before he placed it back on the nightstand.

Meantime, Nina was trying to put the thread into the needle. Her shaking hands made it even more difficult. Several tries later, she still was unable to put the thread across.

“Give that here,” he said. His tone held impatience.

With shaking hands, Nina handed it to him.

Her eyes fell on his hands as he held the needle and thread. His hands looked large against the tiny needle, and his fingers were much longer and thicker than hers to be able to handle the fine thread. But at the first try, he pulled the thread across the needle in a smooth move and handed it back to her.

She was surprised and wondered where he acquired the skill.

“Get going, Mrs. Bhupati. I don’t want to bleed all over my bed.”

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She took a step closer to him and bent towards his arm. Her hands shook as she slowly poked the needle into the red, swollen flesh. Her stomach threatened to empty its contents.

“Here,” his deep voice rumbled.

As soon as she heard his voice, she gratefully tore her eyes away from her task. He was handing her the whiskey bottle.

“Drink. It’ll calm your nerves,” he said.

“I don’t drink,” she replied.

“It wasn’t an offer, Mrs. Bhupati. I’m ordering you to drink.”

She couldn’t read anything from his eyes or face, but not wanting to risk his anger, she took the bottle from his hands and took a tiny sip. The fiery liquid almost choked her. She coughed out loudly. Her throat stung, and tears filled her eyes. Even her stomach felt as though it was set on fire.

“Another sip,” she heard him order. She wanted to refuse, but as soon as she met his eyes, she picked up the bottle again to take another sip.

This one burned similarly, but she was much more prepared. She waited for him to order her to take a few more sips. But he didn’t.

As she waited, the fire inside her belly, turned into warmth, and she felt her body beginning to relax.

“You better start stitching before you get too drowsy.”

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the needle once again. This time her hands shook a little less, and she was able to stitch through the wound on his arm. When she reached the end, she made a knot. She looked around the table for something to cut the ends.

A small pair of scissors lay within the bandages placed on a tray. She picked it up and then froze.

Her mind was fuzzy but still functioning. Her eyes flew towards her captor. His eyes were closed, and his dark lashes were still against his cheekbones. His chest rose and fell evenly. He must have fallen asleep because of the drink.

This time she stared at his chest properly. Within the toned muscled abs were two obvious deep wounds that had recently healed. They appeared to be bullet wounds.

She wondered how he got them. Did he kidnap people for ransom on a regular basis? He seemed fit and able. Why couldn’t he make money honestly? He owned a modest house in the forest, too. So it wasn’t like he was cornered and desperate to resort to such methods.

Why the hell do you care? And stop wasting time. Use this opportunity to hurt him and escape right now!

On instinct, her fingers tightened around the handle of the scissors.

“You might want to rethink your next course of action, Mrs. Bhupati.” Nina jumped when she heard him speak.

His eyes were still closed, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically.

“I-I was just trying to find something to cut the end off,” she said and used the raised scissors to quickly cut the thread.

His eyes opened and she was met with an intense stare. “I’m not your doting husband,” he said in a cold voice. “You have hurt and bloodied me twice. If you hurt me again, I’ll return that pain several times over. Remember that for the next time.”

Instead of getting frightened by his threat, she was angry. No, not just angry. Furious.

“You may be able to hurt me,” she said in a scathing tone. “But you should know that men who deliberately hurt women or cause them pain are simply pathetic. Hurting women or innocents is not being powerful, it’s just showing weakness!” She had shouted the last part and was breathing fast due to anger and adrenaline.

The captor’s nostrils flared, and he seemingly grew larger. Slowly, he stepped down from the bed.

Until that moment, he had either looked at her coldly or with no expression on his face. But now, he had a furious look.

Nina didn’t step back. Her legs shook, but she somehow held her ground.

She flinched when his hand grabbed the collar of the shirt she wore and jerked her even closer. He wasn’t hurting her, but she was terrified with the look on his face.

His dark, intense eyes burned with a rage. “Pathetic?” he asked in an awfully quiet tone. The contrast of the rage on his face and the controlled cold tone made her body tremble. “Then tell me, Mrs. Bhupati,” he continued in the same quiet tone that would have sounded casual to an outsider. “Tell me how every night you willingly slept next to a pathetic bastard?” He jerked her even closer and bent his head down until there were only a few inches left between their faces. “Tell me how did you let the pathetic bastard touch you with hands covered in an innocent’s pain and blood?”

His words cut through her fear and ricocheted in her mind. She stared at him in shock.