One Day Later...
The golden sun draped the sky in hues of soft orange and pink as the evening breeze carried the scent of blooming lilies through the open balcony doors.
Inside her room, Amaira stood before the mirror, adjusting the delicate pleats of her saree. The light blue fabric wrapped around her petite frame like a dream, accentuating her soft curves and graceful form. The sheer material shimmered under the warm lights, making her look like a celestial vision.
Her long, dark hair cascaded down in effortless waves, the ends brushing against her bare back as she fastened a pair of silver earrings. Her hazel eyes gleamed with a soft glow, framed by long lashes that fluttered every time she blinked.
She sighed.
Another family event.
Amaira wasn't against engagements and weddings, but she wasn't particularly excited about them either. Especially when she knew that once she reached the venue, she'd be surrounded by nosy relatives asking the same repetitive questions- When will you get engaged? When will you get married?
Her parents had already left early in the morning to help with the preparations at her cousin sister's house, but she had chosen to stay back and go directly to the venue in the evening.
Now, all she had to do was endure the night without losing her sanity.
With one final look in the mirror, she grabbed her small clutch and moved towards her car.
As soon as she stepped outside, the cool evening air kissed her exposed skin, making her shiver slightly. The city lights twinkled in the distance as she slid into the driver's seat, her soft hands gripping the steering wheel.
Taking a deep breath, she turned on the ignition.
And just like that-she was off.
Unaware that at the same time, somewhere far away... blood was being spilled.
---
Meanwhile, On a Hill's Desolate Road...
The silence of the night was shattered by a sharp, gut-wrenching scream.
A man was on his knees, his face twisted in agony, hands trembling as blood poured from the deep wounds carved into his body. His gasps turned into choked whimpers as he struggled to breathe, but the monster standing before him showed no mercy.
Reyansh Singhania.
His figure loomed over the dying man, drenched in a mixture of his own blood and that of his enemies. His sharp features were cast in an eerie glow under the moonlight, his honey-brown eyes holding nothing but cold, detached rage.
The blade in his hand was slick with crimson, dripping onto the dry gravel beneath his feet. The scent of iron and death clung to the air, suffocating and unrelenting.
The enemy before him was a traitor.
A man who had dared to challenge his authority.
And Reyansh didn't forgive betrayals.
He crouched slightly, gripping the man's jaw with an iron grip.
"Do you regret it now?" His voice was slow, deep, and laced with something more dangerous than death itself.
The man whimpered, his body convulsing in pain.
But Reyansh didn't wait for an answer.
With a sharp flick of his wrist-he ended it.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Reyansh exhaled heavily, wiping the blood off his blade against the dead man's shirt. But just as he turned, his senses screamed.
Danger.
Before he could react, a shadow lunged from the darkness.
A flash of silver.
A sharp pain seared through his side.
The bastard had a backup.
Reyansh gritted his teeth as the cold blade tore through the side of his abdomen, but before it could fully plunge in-his reflexes kicked in.
With brutal force, he twisted his body, dodging the fatal angle, and in one swift move-his fist connected with the attacker's jaw, sending the man staggering back.
But pain was already spreading through his body like wildfire.
A deep, sharp wound now marred his side, warm blood soaking into his black shirt.
His chest heaved, eyes dark with unfiltered rage as the two men who had ambushed him realized their mistake.
They hesitated.
And then-
They ran.
Cowards.
Reyansh could've chased them, finished them off right there.
But the ache in his side screamed otherwise.
Instead, he stood there, unmoving, as blood trickled down his torso. The wind howled through the deserted hills, carrying the scent of fresh violence.
For the first time in years-he was wounded.
And for some reason... a certain pair of hazel eyes flashed through his mind.
---
Amaira drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, her brows furrowed as she stared at her phone screen.
The glowing blue arrow on Google Maps was guiding her through an unfamiliar route-one that was supposed to be a shortcut.
Supposed to be.
But as fate would have it, her shortcut had turned into a dhoop wala jhaadu (dusty disaster), and now, she was cruising down an eerily deserted road in the middle of nowhere.
For a second, she thought about crying.
Or maybe filing a case against Google Maps for mental harassment.
Because why?
Why did this always happen to her?
Every single time she tried to make her life a little easier, the universe personally made sure to drop-kick her plans into a pit of suffering.
It was like she had a permanent VIP membership in Murphy's Law Club-if something can go wrong, it will go wrong.
And today was no exception.
"Ughhh! Seriously? Is this a shortcut or a pathway to my doom?!" she groaned, gripping the wheel tighter.
The dim headlights barely illuminated the endless stretch of empty road ahead. Not a single house, car, or even a ghost for company-just dry land, occasional trees, and her own miserable existence.
Amaira huffed in frustration.
Did I just get karma payback for searching shortcuts?
Or worse...
Does Google Maps itself have a personal enmity with me?
Because at this point, she wouldn't be surprised if the AI voice suddenly announced- "Congratulations! You have been successfully kidnapped by Google Maps. Good luck, loser."
Her lips twisted in a pout.
"Why, God? What did I ever do to deserve this unlucky life?" she muttered dramatically.
Her bad luck was like Jethalal's life problems-no matter how hard she tried to avoid them, they always found a way back to her and hugged her tightly.
Little did she know...
Her fate was about to throw her into yet another disaster.
And this time-
It had a name.
Reyansh Singhania.
---
Amaira's grip tightened on the steering wheel as she continued down the deserted road, muttering curses at her phone.
"Google Maps, if I die today, my ghost is haunting your server room."
She sighed, her mind still occupied with her ongoing war against technology, when-
BANG!
A dark figure suddenly stumbled right into the path of her car.
Her heart stopped.
Her foot slammed the brakes.
Her entire soul left her body for a second.
The car screeched to a halt just inches away from the man-her breath hitched as her wide, horrified eyes finally processed who it was.
Reyansh.
But not the usual Reyansh.
Not the arrogant, untouchable, stone-cold devil who always walked like he owned the world.
No.
This Reyansh was-
Bleeding.
Wounded.
Injured.
His usually immaculate black shirt was soaked in deep crimson, torn in places. A fresh wound on his side was staining the fabric even more as he stood there, slightly swaying, his honey-brown eyes sharp but unfocused.
Amaira froze.
Everything inside her screamed danger, but before she could even think-
She was already pushing open the car door.
Already stepping out.
Already rushing towards him.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
"Wha-Reyansh?!"
Her voice came out panicked, breathless. She didn't even realize it-didn't even notice the unfamiliar concern in her tone.
All she knew was that for the first time since she had met him-
He didn't look like the indestructible monster she always called him.
He looked-
Human.
And that realization sent a strange, uneasy twist inside her chest.
"You're hurt!" she gasped, stopping just in front of him.
Her hazel eyes widened in pure, genuine worry as they scanned his injuries.
Reyansh exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as he lifted his gaze to meet hers.
"That's nothing, Angel," he murmured, his voice a rough, low whisper. "Just a scratch."
Amaira gaped at him.
A scratch?!
Was this man even real?!
She didn't know whether to scream at him for being so reckless-
Or...
No.
She wouldn't admit the or.
She wouldn't admit that her chest felt way too tight at the sight of his blood.
Because she wasn't worried.
She wasn't.
She was just-
...Fine.
Fine, maybe she was a little worried.
Just a little.
Without even thinking, she reached out-her fingers lightly brushing against his sleeve as if trying to steady him.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
Just the sound of their breaths mingling in the cool, silent night.
And then-
Reyansh smirked.
Even while half-bleeding, half-dying, half-who-knows-what, he still smirked.
"You should see your face, Angel," he whispered.
Amaira blinked, confused. "What?"
He leaned in just the slightest bit-just enough for her to feel the heat of his body so close to hers.
"You look worried about me."
Her entire brain glitched.
Her what looked what now?!
Her mouth opened-ready to argue, to deny, to scream.
But nothing came out.
Because the truth was-
She was worried.
And that realization alone?
It scared her more than anything else ever had.
For a moment, Amaira forgot.
Forgot where she was.
Forgot why she was here.
Forgot the damn engagement function she was supposed to be at.
Because right now-right here-
There was only him.
Only Reyansh.
And the way his rough, bloodstained fingers were still resting against her waist.
Amaira's breath hitched.
She should push him away.
She wanted to push him away.
But-
Her fingers curled into tiny fists.
She couldn't.
Not because she didn't want to-
But because she knew-the moment she pushed him, the moment she used even the slightest force-
His wound would bleed more.
The logical, sane part of her brain was screaming at her.
Step away, Amaira.
He's dangerous, Amaira.
He's still Reyansh Singhania, Amaira.
But-
Then why...
Why did she feel breathless?
Why was her heart pounding?
Why did she feel burning hot under his touch-even in this cold night air?
Amaira swallowed, trying to ignore the way his fingers-warm, rough, dangerous-barely moved, but still managed to make her entire body react.
"I-" she started, voice barely above a whisper.
But she didn't even know what the hell she was about to say.
Because the moment she spoke, Reyansh's grip tightened slightly-
Just enough to make her shiver.
The bastard smirked-his signature, sinful, arrogant smirk-
Despite being injured.
Despite bleeding.
Like he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
"Cat got your tongue, Angel?" he murmured, voice deep, rough, taunting.
Amaira's stomach flipped.
Her eyes snapped up to his face, ready to murder him-
But then she froze.
Because this close-
She could see it.
The faintest signs of pain flickering in his usually cold, unreadable eyes.
The sharp, nearly invisible clench of his jaw.
The slight unevenness in his breaths.
He was hurt.
Badly.
And yet, here he was-standing in front of her, teasing her like a damn sin personified-
Like his own wounds didn't even matter.
Amaira's throat felt dry.
She should say something.
She should do something.
But all she could focus on was the way Reyansh was still watching her-
His honey-brown eyes dark.
Too dark.
Like he was memorizing something.
Like he was fighting something.
Like he was daring her to react.
Amaira sucked in a sharp breath.
She had to get out of this before she did something insanely stupid.
With all the strength she had left in her (which wasn't much, considering her entire brain was currently malfunctioning), she jerked back slightly, finally breaking the sinful tension hanging between them.
"I- I have to go," she stammered, forcing herself to breathe.
Reyansh arched a brow, still not moving.
"Do you now?"
Amaira clenched her jaw.
"Yes! I- I was supposed to be at my cousin's engagement function," she said, pointing towards her car as if it would somehow help her escape whatever the hell this moment was.
Reyansh was silent.
For a second.
Then-
His fingers, still resting against her waist, moved-
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Tracing the delicate chain ever so slightly before finally, finally letting go.
Amaira swore her entire body betrayed her.
Because the moment he let go, the air around her suddenly felt colder.
Like something dangerous had just disappeared-
And she wasn't sure if she liked it.
But then-
Before she could fully recover-
Before she could breathe properly again-
Reyansh took a slow step forward, his large frame towering over her smaller one, his breath dangerously close to her ear.
"You look too beautiful to be anywhere else but in trouble, Angel," he murmured, his voice deep, husky, and sinful.
Amaira's breath stopped.
Her entire soul glitched.
Because for the first time-
She realized.
This wasn't just hatred anymore.
This was something far more dangerous.
---
Reyansh’s POV
The moment he saw her, something inside him snapped.
Not in shock. Not in anger. In possession.
Amaira.
In his world.
Where she didn’t belong. Where she shouldn’t be. Where danger lurked in the very air she was breathing—air that was meant for men like him, men who thrived in darkness, in blood, in power. Not her.
And yet, there she was. Worried. Panicked. Trembling. Holding onto some injured bastard, like her touch could fix the filth of this place. Like her kindness could cleanse a world built on destruction.
His fingers curled into fists, a cold rage washing over him. But beneath it, beneath the fury of seeing her somewhere he never expected—never wanted—her to be, there was something deeper.
Something darker.
This unbearable, all-consuming need.
To shield her. To keep her away from this filth. To lock her away where only he could reach her. To drag her into his arms and remind h
er exactly where she belonged—with him.
Not here.
Not anywhere else.
Only with him.
She was driving him insane. But seeing her now—seeing her fragile, reckless self so far from his reach, so exposed to this world of filth and blood—ripped through every last shred of denial he had left.
She was his.
Whether she knew it or not. Whether she accepted it or not.
She. Was. His.
And he would burn the whole damn world down before letting it take her from him.
.....
To be continued
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