Captured by the Yandere Space Pirates

Ila bent low, her hand gripping Syn's jaw, her nails digging into his skin as she forced his gaze to meet hers.

Her teal eyes were a tempest, far outstripping his defiant glare.

"Why do you care so much about the people from the Backdrop?" she hissed, her voice a blade, sharp and probing, her breath hot against his face.

Syn's jaw tightened, his hazel eyes burning with resolve. "I have told this many times, Ila. It's because they're human. They're not tools or trash—they're people, fighting to survive in a world you and your Kingdom designed to crush them. I care because I was one of them, and I know what it's like to have nothing but hope and grit to keep you alive."

Ila's lips curled into a cruel smile, and she released his jaw, only to grab his collar, yanking him closer until their faces were inches apart.

The face that once softened with love in their stolen moments in the Scenery Biome was now a mask of fury, her teal eyes glinting with venom.

"Human? Those Backdrop vermin? They're a blight, Syn, festering in their own misery, dragging the Kingdom down with them. You think they're worth saving? Let's test that." Her voice dropped, a dangerous purr.

"I challenge you: the people you care so much about, the ones you're ready to bleed for, fight for—would they sacrifice a single day's food to set you free? A day's food, Syn. Just one day" She emphasized the words, her grip tightening, her knuckles whitening against his collar.

Syn's defiance flickered, his eyes narrowing, but he didn't answer.

He knew the Backdrop's harsh truth—selfishness was survival, woven into their blood by necessity.

He'd seen it: the kind and gentle trampled, their generosity exploited by those hardened by hunger and despair.

A meal was life, a currency no one parted with lightly.

Would they sacrifice it for him, a stranger to most, even if they knew his name?

No.

The answer was etched in their minds—everyone for themselves.

He couldn't blame them; the Kingdom's cruelty had forged that mindset.

Yet Syn fought for them, not for their gratitude, but to break the cycle, to unite them against their oppressors.

That's why, how the pirates emerged, just a mere few hundred strong among the Backdrop's hundreds of thousands—a flicker of hope amid the darkness.

He'd seen the harsh life, and his fight was for a future where no one endured it.

Ila shook him, her grip brutal, snapping him from his thoughts.

"Answer me, Syn!" she snarled, her face inches from his, her breath hot and furious. "Will they come forward to save you, or will they let you rot? Tell me!"

Syn's silence was his defiance, his eyes locked on hers, unyielding.

Ila's smile twisted, and she leaned closer, her voice a venomous whisper.

"Here's the deal. You'll stay with me, my captive, until someone from your precious Backdrop steps forward to sacrifice one meal for your freedom. I'll spread the rumor using my men blended in the backdrop—a man imprisoned, a simple deal for his release. Let's see how much they care."

Syn's voice was low, steady, but laced with scorn.

"That sounds bogus, Ila. No one will believe it. It reeks of a trap, and no one in their right mind would walk into your hands to die."

Ila's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

"Then you're stuck with me forever, Syn." Her fingers loosened his collar, but the threat lingered in her gaze, a promise of torment.

Syn pulled back, wrenching himself from her grip, and stood, his bound hands awkward but his stance firm.

"Just leave me alone, Ila. I heard what happened to Princess Elara. I need to pay my respects. I'm very pissed at the pirates— I need to get revenge for her." His voice was resolute, hiding the fear coiling in his gut, his lie about Elara a desperate shield.

Ila's laugh was cold, cutting. "You're not going anywhere, Syn." She stepped closer, her presence suffocating, her beauty a weapon.

"You think you can walk away after everything? After our fight in the Scenery Biome, when you threw my love back in my face for those Backdrop rats?"

Syn's eyes flashed, the memory of their breakup a raw wound. "You called me a toy, Ila. You said I'd always be a Backdrop rat, no matter what. You don't love me—you love control. I'm done being your teddy bear."

Ila's face twisted, her teal eyes blazing. "A teddy bear? I gave you everything, Syn! And you betrayed me for scum who'd rather eat dirt than fight for you!"

She grabbed his collar again, yanking him forward, her voice a snarl. "You think you can just walk away? You're mine, and you'll stay mine until I say otherwise."

Syn shoved against her, his bound hands clumsy but forceful, breaking her grip.

"I'm not yours, Ila. You made that clear when you threatened to burn the Backdrop, to kill everyone I care about. You're a monster, and I was a fool to think I could change you."

Her scream was raw, unhinged, echoing in the small room.

"A monster? You ungrateful filth! I could've made you a king, Syn, but you chose those vermin over me!" She lunged, her fist swinging, but Syn dodged, his reflexes active despite his bonds.

Her punch grazed his shoulder, and she stumbled, her rage making her reckless. "You think you're noble, fighting for them? They'll never thank you—they'll spit on you and steal your food while you fight for them!"

Syn's voice was low, furious, his eyes burning. "Maybe they won't thank me, but I'll fight for them anyway. Someone has to, Ila, because you and your Kingdom sure as hell won't. You're so blinded by power, you can't see the blood on your hands."

Ila's laugh was jagged, her sadistic streak in full bloom.

"Blood? Oh, Syn, I'll show you blood." She grabbed a knife from her belt, its blade glinting under the bulb, and stepped closer, her voice a venomous purr.

"I could carve your pretty face right now, make sure no one ever looks at you again. Or maybe I'll drag you to the Backdrop, let your precious people watch as I break you."

Syn's heart pounded, but he stood his ground, his glare unwavering. "Go ahead, Ila. Cut me, kill me, do whatever you want. It won't change who you are, and it won't make me crawl back to you."

Her eyes widened, a flicker of something—hurt, perhaps—beneath the rage.

"You'd rather die than be with me?" she whispered, her voice cracking, the knife trembling in her hand. "After everything we had?"

Syn's voice softened, but his resolve was iron. "What we had died in that glade, Ila. You killed it when you showed me who you really are. I loved you, but I can't love a tyrant."

Ila's face contorted, rage swallowing the hurt.

"Tyrant? I'm the future, Syn! You're nothing without me!" She dropped the knife and lunged, her hands clawing at his chest, her nails raking his skin through his shirt.

Syn staggered, his bound hands useless, but he twisted, shoving her back with his shoulder. She stumbled, her breath hitching, and for a moment, her teal eyes glistened with tears, a jarring shift from her fury.

"You can't leave me," she whispered, her voice breaking, her hands trembling as she reached for him. "I need you, Syn. Don't do this."

Syn's chest ached, the ghost of their love a knife in his heart, but he shook his head. "It's really over, Ila. Let me go, I can't do this anymore. We are just two entirely different people."

Her tears vanished, replaced by a snarl, her psychotic edge roaring back.

"Over? Never!" She grabbed the knife again, slicing through the belt binding his hands to his waist, with a single, furious cut.

Syn was surprised as his hands fell free, but before he could react, she tackled him, her strength overwhelming, her fists pounding his chest.

"You'll stay with me, Syn, whether you want to or not!"

Syn caught her wrists, twisting to pin her against the wall, his breath ragged.

"Stop this, Ila!" His voice was a growl, his eyes locked on hers, defiance burning through his pain.

She writhed, her nails scraping his arms, drawing blood.

"Done? I'll throw you in a cell, Syn! I'll execute you for treason, let the Kingdom watch you die!" Her threats were wild, desperate, her face inches from his, her breath hot and frantic.

"Then do it," Syn spat, releasing her and stepping back, his arms bleeding, his stance unyielding.

"Lock me up, kill me, I don't care. I won't be your puppet, and I won't forget my people."

"AAAaahhh!" Ila's scream was a primal wail, and she lunged, her hands closing around his throat, her fingers tightening with terrifying strength.

"You'll regret this, Syn!" she hissed, her teal eyes wild, her face a mask of rage and betrayal.

Syn gasped, clawing at her hands, but her grip was iron, her strength fueled by madness. His vision blurred, his knees buckling as he fought for air, his bound hands useless against her.

With a final, desperate shove, he pushed against her, but it was too late.

Ila's chokehold tightened, and darkness swallowed him, his body going limp.

Once he stopped struggling, she released him, his form crumpling to the floor, and stood over him, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her face.

"You're mine," she whispered, her voice a broken sob, her hands trembling as she grabbed a large, suitcase from the corner.

She knelt, her movements mechanical, and stuffed Syn's unconscious body inside, his limbs folding awkwardly into the confined space. She zipped it shut, her tears falling onto the fabric, and dragged it toward the door, her face a mask of anguish and resolve.

"You'll see, Syn," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "You'll be back with me."