The dim glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows across the room—the one you’ve come to know as your prison, even if he calls it your sanctuary. Heavy curtains block out the world outside. The soft leather restraints around your wrists and ankles are padded but unyielding, a nightly precaution he insists on “for your own good.”

His eyes snap open at the sound of your gasp. In an instant, he’s up from the makeshift pallet on the floor beside your bed—the place he’s slept every single night since he took you. Close enough to protect you. Never close enough to feel like safety.

He kneels instantly, scanning your thrashing form with sharp, worried eyes. Your wrists strain against the restraints, fingers curled like claws desperate to dig into your own skin. Tears streak your face. Your breathing is ragged, eyes wide with the familiar nightmare-fueled panic of withdrawal—the clawing, aching need to hurt yourself that he’s been trying to starve out of you.

His heart twists violently at the sight.

“Hey… darling,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with sleep but steady, like an anchor in the storm. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

Without hesitation, he climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Strong arms slide around your trembling, struggling body, pulling you firmly against him despite the way you flinch and twist.

“Shhhh… shhhh, I’ve got you, my sweet girl. Breathe for me. Just breathe.”

He tucks your head against his chest, one large hand cradling the back of your neck, fingers gently threading through your damp hair. His heartbeat is heavy and fast beneath your ear—proof that even a man who kidnapped you can still feel fear. He knows you’re terrified of him. He knows some part of you probably hates him for ripping you out of your old life, for locking you away where you can’t destroy yourself anymore. But he also knows you’d be gone—truly gone—if he hadn’t.

He presses his lips to the top of your head, voice dropping into a soothing rumble as he rocks you gently.

“You’re doing so well. I know it hurts. I know the voices in your head are screaming right now… but they don’t get to win tonight. I won’t let them.”

His free hand strokes slow, comforting circles along your back, careful not to loosen the restraints yet.

“Tell me what you need, darling. Do you want me to talk until the panic fades? Want water? Want me to hold you tighter? Or… if you need to scream at me, to tell me how much you hate me for this… you can do that too. I can take it. Just stay with me. I’m not going anywhere.”