I stared at the file on the bed like it was radioactive. My fingers itched to touch it, but I waited. My heart was doing this weird mix of dread and resignation, pounding hard in my chest like it was trying to tell me to run.
But I didn't run.
With a shaky breath, I picked it up. The pages were thick, official-looking, and cold to the touch. There was a pen tucked neatly in the folder, black and heavy like it had been made just for contracts that sealed your fate. I flicked it open, eyes scanning the first page.
Rule One: I must always be near him.
Protect him. Be with him.
I do not stay behind unless ordered to.
If he moves, I move.
If he sleeps, I guard.
If he runs, I follow.
There are no breaks unless he says so.
I swallowed. The words were so… final. Not a suggestion. Not a guideline. A command. I would always be around this fucker? Damn! I'm doomed .
I flipped to the next.
Rule Two: I must always be on duty.
I will live in— his mansion, which is more fortress than home.
I will move in immediately.
I will be under surveillance, training, and ranked alongside other bodyguards.
My fingers clenched tighter around the pen.
I flipped to the third page.
Rule Three: I must respect my superior at all times.
No matter what.
No matter the situation.
No matter how I'm treated.
Han is my superior.
His word is law.
I scoffed under my breath. Respect? For the man who barely sees me as human? For someone who smirks like he owns the world — and now me? That rule wasn't written for respect. It was written for obedience. For control. And I hated how a part of me still craved to defy it… just to feel like I had a sliver of control left. But even I knew defiance would come with a price I couldn't afford anymore.
I turned to the next.
Rule Four: His life comes before mine.
In all cases.
If there's danger, I shield him.
If there's a choice, I choose him.
If it comes to death I must protect him at all cost even though it requires my own life
I should always choose his.
Always.
My throat tightened. That bullet I'd already proven I'd do this. But that was before. Before contracts. Before chains. Back then, I was a fool, acting out of instinct, or maybe even something dumber hope. Hope that saving someone might mean something. But this? This is policy now. A death wish written in black ink. I signed it anyway, knowing full well I'd never do it again. Not willingly.
I reached the final page.
Rule Five: What I see stays with me.
Everything within the mansion.
Everything I witness.
No third party must know.
What I see with my eyes,
dies with me.
So now I'm not just his guard I'm his graveyard. Every secret, every crime, every broken thing I'd be forced to look at and swallow whole… I was the vault now. And the price for leaking? Probably my life if not worse. I'd become the silent watcher, always seeing, never speaking. The idea of locking away everything I saw everything he'd do made my skin crawl. But again… I signed.
Line by line. Page by page.
And when the pen finally fell from my fingers, my hand numb and sore, I knew.
I wasn't just owned.
I was buried.
Somewhere in the mess of all this, I realized something sickening: this wasn't a rescue. It was a transaction. I wasn't being saved. I was being claimed.
And still…
I picked up the pen.
And with a heavy breath and a hand that wouldn't stop shaking, I signed.
Line after line, signature after signature.
That was it. Done.
There was no flash of light. No sudden change in the air.
Just this crushing silence and the weight of the paper in my lap. Like I'd just sold my soul for a second chance I didn't even trust.
And the worst part?
I wasn't sure who the real devil was Han… or me.
I handed the contract over to him with a grip tighter than necessary, like some part of me thought if I held it long enough, I could undo what I'd just done.
Han took it with a slow smirk .. the kind that made my skin crawl. Devilish. Smug. Like I'd just handed him my soul gift-wrapped with a bow.
Technically, yeah. That's exactly what I'd done.
I signed it. I was his now. His shadow. His weapon. His possession. I'd be with him 24/7, going through god-knows-what kind of training, molded into whatever version of a guard dog he needed.
His eyes flicked over the paperwork, then back to me. "Tomorrow," he said smoothly, voice like a blade, "after you're discharged, there'll be a car waiting for you. You'll get in. It'll bring you to my mansion."
My chest tightened. "What about my people? My clothes? Don't I at least get the chance to tell them goodbye?" I snapped, already knowing the answer.
He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just stared at me like I was some annoying fly buzzing too close to his ear.
This man. This goddamn devil. I was begging ... begging for scraps of freedom from someone I had literally taken a bullet for.
A fucking bullet.
I risked my life for him, and this is how he repays me? Locking me into his world like some tool to be used?
Lesson learned. I'll never do that again. If he's ever in danger — if it's ever up to me again? I'll watch. I'll sit back and let fate do what it wants. I grinned at the thought, bitter and full of venom. Maybe being his bodyguard will be my personal one-way ticket to finally ending it all.
He raised an eyebrow, probably reading every twisted thought on my face. "You're thinking about Billy," he said.
I stared. He nodded.
"Fine," he muttered. "Thirty minutes. You've got thirty minutes to talk to your people. Then you're in the Uber. Don't test me."
He leaned in, voice like ice water on my spine. "Remember, you're not my savior anymore. You're not the hero. You're my bodyguard now. And I don't need another martyr. No more bullets for me."
He stepped back, giving me that same death glare he'd used when he threatened to report me to the government, the one that chilled my blood the first time I saw it. And now? Now he had my signature. My life. I knew better than to push.
I nodded slowly. "Good."
"Good boy," he said, like I was a trained mutt.
Then —he patted my head.
Like I was nothing more than an obedient little pet.
And just like that, he turned around and left, walking out like he hadn't just carved his brand into my soul.
I clenched my hand into a fist so tight my knuckles turned white, watching his back disappear out the door, my jaw tight enough to crack.
Someday, I told myself. Someday, I'll make you regret.