
UNKOWN'S POV-
"I told you I won't take over the business," I growled, slamming my palm against the mahogany table that stood between me and the man who gave me his name-but never his soul.
My father's eyes, cold and sharp like shards of black ice, narrowed at me. His voice was calm, controlled, but venomous. "That's not your choice to make, Zade. You are my blood. You owe me."
"I owe you nothing," I spat, teeth gritted. "I never asked to be born into this hellhole. I never asked you to clean up my messes. I never asked for a life where I'd have to kneel for a legacy I never wanted!"
His hand slammed down, making the glass of whiskey beside him rattle. "You were born for this empire. You are the heir. Your future was sealed the moment you were pushed out of your mother's womb. And you think some girl-some broken little plaything-can rewrite that?"
I laughed. A deep, humorless laugh that held years of restraint and buried rage. "She's not some girl. Don't talk about her like that."
"You are 33. She is what-nineteen?" He leaned back in his chair like a king mocking a fool. "You went to jail for that little whore. And now you're throwing away your future for her again?"
"I said-don't talk about her like that." My voice dropped, low and lethal. My fists clenched. I could feel the burn of rage in my chest, pulsing like a living beast that wanted to rip through skin and bone.
"You're pathetic, Zade. Obsessed. Weak. You'd rather chase tail than run an empire."
"She's not tail. She's mine."
He smirked like he'd won something. "She doesn't belong to anyone."
I stepped closer, towering over him now. "She will."
He stood, his face inches from mine, matching my height, my stare. "Then you're no longer my son."
"Good," I whispered. "Because I don't want to be the son of a man who sells girls in the name of business. A man who sees emotions as weaknesses and power as a currency for ownership."
His jaw tightened. "I saved your life, boy."
"No. You bought it." I pointed at him. "You bought your way out of my mistakes so you could keep owning me. But not anymore."
"You walk out that door," he said coldly, "and you're dead to me. No inheritance. No legacy. No protection."
I looked him dead in the eyes. "Then I guess I've finally been born."
I turned and walked out of the study, my heart pounding like war drums, my blood hot and vicious. I could still hear his voice behind me, not yelling-but cruelly calm, like poison slipping in wine.
"You'll come crawling back, Zade. They all do."
But he didn't know me. Not really. Not the version of me that she brought back to life.
She wasn't just a girl. She was a storm I willingly walked into.
She used to be this fragile, velvet-wrapped thing, all soft eyes and silent screams. But I saw past the silk. I saw the horns hidden beneath her halo. I was there when she tried to claw her way out of her own skin, bleeding silence into the night. I was there when she thought no one could hear her.
I heard her.
And I chose her.
She was mine. Not in the way the world calls possession. Not in the way my father buys power. No-mine in the way a wolf claims the moon. Mine in the way darkness claims the stars.
She doesn't know how much I burn for her.
Every inch of her. Every breath. Every piece of pain she carries like armor-I want to strip it away, kiss the bruises life left on her soul, and remake her in my image. Strong. Unbreakable. Loved.
I'll shatter her walls a thousand times if it means she'll never be shattered by anyone else again.
I'll own every piece of her.
Because I don't want anyone else to touch her. Not the world. Not fate. Not memory.
Only me.
And fuck the world for thinking I'm the monster in this story.
They didn't see how she smiled at me when no one else did.
They didn't see her eyes the night she told me she trusted me more than herself.
They didn't feel her fingertips trace my scars like they were scripture.
World does not know but, she ruins me.
Every fucking time I think I have control-over my mind, over my fate, over the beast that lives beneath my skin-she ruins it.
That image of her curled up like she's trying to take up less space in a world that's already too cruel for someone like her. The way she folds into herself like she doesn't belong here, like she's apologizing for breathing air she earned ten thousand times over.
Her eyes-when they look at me it's like they're screaming without making a sound.
And God, how that wrecks me.
Because I see her. I see her when no one else bothers to. I see every shadow tucked beneath her softness, every bruise that the world can't see but I feel like fingerprints against my own heart. She's a living contradiction-fragile and invincible, silent and screaming, innocent and sinful.
And I am obsessed.
I want to tear the pain from her veins and inject myself in its place. I want to replace every memory she flinches from with ones that make her burn for me. I want to be the one she thinks of when she wakes up.
The one who silences the ghosts that sleep in her bed when no one else is around.
I want to ruin her.
Not to break her-but to own her. To carve my name into her heart so deep she bleeds it with every breath.
I can leave everything.
Not because I'm a fucking saint. Not because I'm weak. But because no throne, no title, no fortune could give me what I want.
Her.
She's not just a girl to me.
She's the religion I kneel to.
She's the war I'm willing to die in.
She's the queen of the world I'm building from the ashes of everything I burned for her.
And when she looked at me-with those wide, broken eyes like she still didn't believe she deserved to be saved, I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip apart every person who ever made her feel that way. I wanted to paint the world with blood if that's what it took to make her smile without fear.
I could've said anything. I could've told her how I dream of her even when I'm awake. How I see her face in firelight and headlights and every fucking mirror. How I ache for her-not just between my legs, but in the pit of my chest where nothing else lives anymore.
But I said what mattered.
I'd fall to my knees for her a thousand times if she asked. I'd kill for her. I'd bleed for her. I'd belong to her if it meant she'd finally believe she belonged to someone who wouldn't ever leave.
Because she's mine.
My obsession. My salvation. My end and my beginning.
And if the world tried to take her again... I'd burn it all to the ground, smile at the ashes, and offer them to her like flowers.
She belongs to my world-
Not the world that bruised her, not the one that tried to mold her into silence and obedience. No.
She belongs to the world I built with blood, fire, and devotion.
My world, where the air bends for her.
Where stars rearrange themselves just to mirror the light in her eyes.
Where every rule bows before her, and every corner whispers her name.
In this world, she's not broken.
She's not afraid.
She's not too much, or not enough.
She's everything.
The queen.
Crowned not in gold, but in scars she survived and fire she never let die.
And me?
I'm her slave-
Willing, devoted, forever on my knees in worship of the way she breathes, the way she exists, the way she doesn't even realize how much power she holds over me.
I would carry her pain on my back.
I would bleed in her name.
I would shatter a thousand versions of myself just to become the man she deserves.
Because in my world, her smile is law.
Her touch is scripture.
Her love is salvation.
She belongs to me-but not as property, not as a prize.
She belongs to the version of me that would die to see her laugh again.
And I belong to her, endlessly, fiercely, like the universe belongs to the stars that gave it meaning.
She is the queen.
And I will serve her, worship her, protect her-
Until the gods themselves kneel beside me.
Because she's not just someone I want.
She's the only empire I'll ever rule.
And I will never let her forget it.
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A/n
Ik this chapter was a tiny golgappa, but it's stuffed with all the spicy setup we'll need for the coming dhamaaka. This pov is still totally anonymous, so throw in your craziest theories about who's behind the pov- I would appreciate thatt<3
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