The Bedroom Siege
Shyan, whose attention was never truly on the woman in his arms, noticed Roo's retreat instantly. He saw the slight stagger, the blurred expression, and the direction she headed. A predatory smirk spread across his face. He excused himself, promising to return in minutes. He saw her intoxication not as a medical concern, but as a perfect opportunity for control.
Roo fumbled with the key card to her temporarily rented room. The room, which had been a sanctuary of silence hours earlier, felt blindingly bright. She stripped off the heavy jewelry and tossed it onto the nearest table, craving lightness.
Before she could reach the lock, the door was shoved open. Shyan stood there, his face set in a look of entitled, proprietary concern.
"There you are, my darling. Running off again?" Shyan closed the door with a soft click, locking it and pocketing the key card with a gesture of chilling finality. He approached her, his voice a low, smooth purr designed to disarm. "You're not well. Let me take care of you. It's been a long engagement, Roo. We're getting married next week. Let's start now."
Roo, despite the alcohol sloshing in her head, felt a core of cold, sober revulsion. She backed away toward the bed. "No, Shyan," she slurred, holding up a hand. "I don't want this. Not here. Not now. Not like this." The sight of him, so perfectly groomed and yet so morally repulsive, made her stomach turn. She despised the casual transaction that was their intimacy.
Shyan smiled, a patronizing, infuriating curl of his lip. "Don't be ridiculous, Roo. You're drunk, you don't know what you want. This is what you're for. Don't worry, I'll make it quick." He lunged, grabbing her wrist with a possessive, painful grip. His entitlement was absolute; he saw her resistance as a flimsy performance.
The panic was immediate, but the alcohol stripped away her fear and replaced it with a desperate, self-preserving rage. She saw the cruelty he had shown Ghost, and the sheer disgust of his betrayal with Tania, and she reacted not as a fiancée, but as a trapped animal fighting for its life.
With a sudden, explosive burst of strength born of desperation, Roo pulled her hand free, twisted her body, and delivered a swift, powerful kick straight to Shyan's crotch.
The sound was a sickening, muffled impact. Shyan gasped, a high, strangled sound, his eyes bulging as he doubled over, his perfect bandhgala now bunched up around his waist. The pain was immediate and incapacitating.
Roo didn't wait. With all her remaining strength, she shoved his paralyzed body toward the door, fumbling blindly for the lock. She threw the latch, double-checked the deadbolt, and then slid the heavy chain across.
The adrenaline vanished instantly, leaving her weak and dizzy. She stumbled backward, hitting the side of the bed, and collapsed onto the crisp, white duvet. She curled into a ball, not caring about her royal-blue lehenga now crumpled beneath her, and surrendered to the deep, silent oblivion of exhaustion, her mind finally giving way to the alcohol and the shock.