100. Attacks

♡♡♡♡♡

The scent of something warm and delicious drifted through the penthouse as Amrita stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her body while another was in her hands, gently drying her long, damp hair.

The sight that greeted her made her pause.

Aaryansh stood in the open kitchen, sleeves rolled up, moving effortlessly as he flipped something in a pan.

His usually sharp, commanding presence was softened by the domesticity of the moment—his broad back turned to her, his movements relaxed, focused.

She hadn’t expected this.

A small, amused smile curved on her lips as she walked closer, curiosity sparking in her eyes. Leaning slightly, she peeked over his shoulder.

“What are you cooking, chef?” she mused.

Aaryansh chuckled, tilting his head to glance at her. “Trying to impress my wife with breakfast. How am I doing?”

She hummed, inhaling the aroma. “Depends. If it tastes as good as it smells, you might just win some points.”

He smirked, turning slightly to face her. “Then you should take a seat and wait for the magic.”

Amrita raised an eyebrow. “I can help.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Aaryansh sighed playfully, shaking his head. “Fine. But I won’t let you do much. Just cut some tomatoes for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can do more, you know.”

“I’d rather not take the risk,” he teased, handing her a knife and a few ripe tomatoes.

She narrowed her eyes at him but took the task without protest, moving to the counter.

As she began slicing, Aaryansh stole a few glances at her, a small, fond smile playing on his lips.

“Careful,” he warned softly.

“I am careful.”

But just as the words left her mouth, a sharp sting shot through her finger.

Amrita hissed, flinching slightly as a bead of crimson welled up on her fingertip.

Aaryansh froze.

In an instant, he was by her side, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly, his grip strong yet careful.

His sharp gaze darted to the cut, his jaw tightening as he saw the blood.

“Dammit,” he muttered, pulling her towards the sink.

Amrita blinked, watching as he turned on the water, guiding her hand under the cool stream.

His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed in a tight line, and there was worry in his eyes—deep, genuine concern that made her chest tighten.

“It’s just a small cut,” she murmured.

He shot her a look. “It’s still bleeding.”

She bit back a smile at his reaction, watching as he grabbed a towel and gently wrapped it around her finger.

His movements were swift yet careful, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

“You blame yourself?” she guessed, reading him easily.

His jaw clenched. “I shouldn’t have let you help.”

That made her chuckle softly. “I think I can survive a tiny cut, Aarya.”

He didn’t respond, still focused on tending to her wound, his lips pressing together in frustration.

She reached up with her uninjured hand, cupping his face gently. His stormy eyes met hers, still laced with worry, but there was something deeper—something that made warmth spread through her chest.

“You care too much,” she whispered.

His fingers tightened slightly around hers. “Of course, I do.”

A soft smile touched her lips. Without another word, she leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

His breath hitched slightly.

Then, before he could react, she leaned in again, pressing another kiss—this time, to his lips. It was slow, warm, meant to soothe him rather than tease.

His hand slid up to rest against her waist, pulling her in as he deepened the kiss.

And then—

BANG!

A gunshot.

The sound cracked through the air, loud and sharp.

Adrenaline shot through both of them instantly.

Before Aaryansh could fully react, Amrita grabbed him, pushing him down behind the counter in a protective instinct.

Her heart pounded.

More gunshots followed, echoing through the penthouse.

Aaryansh’s eyes flickered with cold calculation. His protective grip on her tightened, his body shielding hers.

She turned her head slightly, spotting movement.

Men in black tactical gear.

Armed.

And they were shooting.

Amrita’s breathing steadied, her mind instantly shifting from domestic bliss to combat mode.

Aaryansh met her gaze, sharp, alert. Without a word, he passed her a gun.

She took it. No hesitation.

And just like that, their quiet morning turned into a war zone.

The air smelled of smoke and gunpowder.

Amrita’s grip on the gun tightened, her pulse steady, her mind sharpening into predator mode.

Aaryansh’s eyes flicked towards her—a silent question.

She gave him the smallest smirk. Ready.

The men in black were approaching swiftly, moving through the penthouse with military precision.

Their boots were nearly silent against the expensive flooring, but Amrita had already marked their positions, their weapons, their mistakes.

Two coming from the left. Three from the right. More waiting outside.

They thought they had the upper hand.

They were wrong.

Aaryansh moved first—swift, lethal. He grabbed a knife from the counter, flung it without hesitation.

It buried itself into one man’s throat before he even had a chance to react. The body dropped, blood pooling.

Amrita launched into motion the second the body hit the ground.

One of the men spotted her movement and raised his gun. Too slow.

She twisted around the counter, firing a clean shot. Right between his eyes.

Another rushed towards her.

She ducked just as his bullet whizzed past her ear, rolled forward, and came up with her gun aimed under his chin.

She pulled the trigger.

Blood and brain matter splattered as his body slumped.

The next one thought he could take her in close combat.

He swung—she dodged.

He aimed a punch—she caught his wrist, twisted it back at a vicious angle, making him scream.

His gun clattered to the floor, and before he could react, she delivered a deadly roundhouse kick to his temple.

CRACK.

He collapsed instantly, unconscious or dead. She didn’t care.

Behind her, another man aimed for her back.

Aaryansh shot him before he could pull the trigger.

Four down. More incoming.

Amrita exhaled sharply, adrenaline burning through her veins.

She and Aaryansh moved as one, their instincts honed, their coordination lethal.

A man burst in through the glass balcony doors, a machine gun ready—

She threw her knife before he could aim.

It lodged straight into his eye socket.

He fell back with a gargled scream.

Another charged at her with a knife.

Amrita sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, wrenched the weapon from his grip, and slammed it into his jugular.

The gurgling sound of him choking on his own blood barely phased her.

She turned—just in time to see a man trying to flank Aaryansh.

She lifted her gun.

One clean shot to the back of the skull.

Aaryansh didn’t even need to look. He just smirked. “Damn, wife.”

She exhaled, flicking her hair back, gun still firm in her hand. “Focus, husband.”

More footsteps.

More men coming.

She spotted a metal tray on the kitchen island, grabbed it, and flung it with deadly precision.

It slammed into a man’s head, knocking him backward.

Aaryansh used the distraction to stab another in the chest.

She grabbed a second gun from a fallen enemy, now dual-wielding.

The next wave of men were met with hellfire.

Her bullets found their marks—one in the throat, another in the ribs, another directly between the eyes.

Bodies dropped one after another.

The last man standing hesitated. Fear creeping into his eyes.

She tilted her head, blood splattered across her arm, smirking.

“Run.” she whispered.

He did.

Too bad for him.

She lifted her gun.

One shot. Back of the head.

He collapsed mid-run.

Silence.

The penthouse smelled like blood, gunpowder, and death.

Amrita exhaled, flipping her gun between her fingers before tucking it into her waistband.

She turned to Aaryansh, who was watching her with a dark, admiring gaze.

“I told you not to get hurt,” he murmured, stepping closer.

She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t.”

He smirked, wiping a smear of blood off her cheek with his thumb. “Not even a scratch.”

“Disappointed?” she teased.

He chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. “Proud.”

She smirked. “Good. Now, let’s clean up the mess.”

Aaryansh glanced at the bloodied floor and smirked. “You made most of it.”

She shrugged. “I slay. You love it.”

He pulled her in, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Damn right, I do.”

♡♡♡♡♡

Mahira sat stiffly in her chair, arms crossed, her face carefully neutral.

Mahima, Aarush, and Rishi had been trying for nearly an hour, coaxing, pleading, demanding that she open up.

But Mahira wouldn’t budge.

“Mahira,” Aarush said, voice gentle yet firm, “keeping everything bottled up doesn’t help. We’re here for you.”

Mahira’s fingers curled tightly into her palms. She glanced at Rishi, then at Mahima, her lips pressed into a tight line.

Silence.

Mahima sighed, frustration flickering in her eyes. “Mahira, you know I won’t stop. I don’t care how stubborn you are.”

Mahira still didn’t speak.

Something cracked in Mahima’s heart.

She stepped forward, voice softer now.

“You think I don’t understand pain?” Her voice wavered. “I grew up alone, Mahira. I spent my whole life wondering why I wasn’t enough for my parents to keep me. I told myself, maybe… if I had been what they wanted me to be, they wouldn’t have thrown me away like I was nothing.”

Mahira flinched.

Mahima’s eyes stung, but she continued, words laced with raw honesty.

“But you know what hurts the most? Not knowing. Not knowing why I was left behind. Not knowing if my mother ever thought about me, if she ever missed me. And now… now you stand in front of me, knowing the truth, yet refusing to share it.”

Mahira’s breath hitched.

Mahima swallowed hard. “Tell me, Mahira… don’t I deserve to know why?”

Mahira squeezed her eyes shut. The dam inside her broke.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Tears welled up as she finally whispered, “I’ll tell you.”

Mahima reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “Take your time.”

Mahira’s lips trembled, but she nodded, inhaling shakily before she began.

"Our father never wanted daughters."

Mahima’s stomach twisted at those words.

Mahira’s voice was hollow as she continued.

"When you were born, he was furious. He didn’t even hold you. Instead… he started planning how to get rid of you.”

Mahima stiffened. “What do you mean?”

Mahira swallowed hard. “He… he wanted to sell you.”

Aarush cursed under his breath. Rishi’s jaw clenched.

Mahima’s breath caught in her throat.

Mahira looked down at their joined hands, her grip tightening. “We were poor. Desperately poor. And he thought that a girl was only useful if she could be sold.”

Mahima felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

“But,” Mahira whispered, “our mother wouldn’t let that happen.”

Mahima’s hands trembled. “So she abandoned me?”

Mahira shook her head violently. “She saved you.”

Mahima blinked, stunned.

“She knew that if you stayed, he would sell you the moment he got the chance. So she did the only thing she could—she left you at an orphanage, where you’d be safe.”

Mahima’s vision blurred. “But she could’ve come back for me… why didn’t she?”

Mahira’s breath shuddered. “Because she got pregnant again.”

Mahima’s entire body went cold.

Mahira let out a humorless laugh, full of bitterness and pain.

“The next year, on the same date, she gave birth to me. But this time, our father wasn’t there. He was in jail.”

Aarush’s brows furrowed. “Jail?”

Mahira nodded. “For attempted murder. He nearly killed a man… for money.”

Rishi muttered a curse.

Mahira exhaled, her voice softer now. “Without him, our mother was free. She raised me for 13 years—just the two of us. She always told me stories of you, didi. About how beautiful you were, about how guilty she felt for leaving you.”

Mahima pressed a hand to her mouth, tears threatening to fall.

“She never stopped thinking about you, didi,” Mahira whispered. “Not even for a day. But… we were miles away from where she left you. She didn’t even have the money to travel that far. She wanted to bring you back, but she couldn’t.”

Mahima broke.

She covered her face, silent tears falling.

Her mother had loved her. She had wanted her. She just… couldn’t reach her.

Mahira sniffled, wiping her own tears. “We were happy… until one day…”

Her voice trailed off.

Something dark flashed in her eyes.

Mahima slowly looked up, noticing the shift.

“What happened, Mahira?”

Mahira stilled.

Then, her lips curled into a bitter, pain-laced smile.

And she whispered, “He came back.”

Mahira’s fingers dug into the armrest of the chair, knuckles turning white. Her body trembled as she recalled the day everything shattered.

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“They released him. I don’t know how. I don’t know who pulled the strings. But… he came back.”

Mahima’s breath hitched.

Mahira swallowed hard, her eyes dark and distant.

“When he found out I was a girl, he…” she sucked in a sharp breath, voice trembling, “he was furious. He screamed at my mother, cursing her for giving birth to ‘another useless girl.’ He… he said he’d end it all right then and there.”

Mahima felt her heart stop.

Mahira’s hands shook. “My mother… she threw herself at his feet. She begged. She cried. She clung to him with everything she had, pleading for my life.”

Mahima’s fingers curled into fists.

“She told him I could be useful. That I could work in the house, help on the farm, earn money. That I could be… of some worth.”

Mahira let out a bitter laugh, but it sounded more like a sob.

“He stared at her for a long time. Thinking. Calculating. And then… he finally nodded.”

Mahima exhaled in relief, but Mahira’s smile was twisted.

“But just as my mother sighed in relief… he grabbed her by the hair.”

Mahima’s body went cold.

Mahira’s voice cracked. “He dragged her outside. I ran after them, screaming. My mother… she was crying, begging, but he wouldn’t listen. He shoved her down, and her head hit a stone.”

Mahima gasped. Aarush’s fists clenched. Rishi’s jaw locked.

Mahira’s eyes were hollow, lost in the past. “She was dizzy… blood dripping down her forehead. And then… he took her by the hair again and…”

Her breath hitched.

Mahima whispered. “Mahira…?”

Mahira squeezed her eyes shut.

“He shoved her face into the wall.”

The room fell dead silent.

Mahima felt like the world had stopped spinning.

Mahira’s hands gripped the edge of the chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“She was thrashing. Fighting. Clawing at the ground. But… he wouldn’t stop. He kept thrashing her there, watching as she… she struggled for air.”

Tears streamed down Mahima’s face.

“I screamed,” Mahira’s voice cracked. “I begged him to stop. I clung to his arm, pulled, hit, bit… but he was too strong.”

A shudder ran through her body.

“And then… she stopped moving.”

Mahima’s breath caught in her throat.

Mahira’s fingers trembled. “Her body… her body just went limp. The ripples in the water faded. And… she was gone.”

Tears blurred Mahima’s vision.

She took a deep breath, staring at her trembling hands. The weight of her past settled like an iron chain around her neck.

“It was my birthday.”

Mahima’s breath hitched. Aarush and Rishi exchanged a look, their expressions darkening.

Mahira let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “My mother died… on my birthday.”

Mahima’s heart cracked.

Mahira sniffled, wiping at her tears before they could fall. “She always told me she’d make it special. She used to say that on the day I was born, she got the greatest gift—a reason to live.”

Her voice wavered, her body trembling.

“But that day, I lost her. And I—” she swallowed, voice breaking, “—I lost myself too.”

Mahima’s grip on her hand tightened.

Aarush and Rishi stood frozen, their rage simmering just beneath the surface.

Mahira’s voice grew distant. “After she died, he turned to me, his face full of disgust. He said it was all my fault. That I was a curse.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“And then he grabbed my arm and dragged me inside. He locked the door, took off his belt…”

Mahima stiffened. Aarush took a sharp breath.

Mahira’s nails dug into her palm. “That night, he didn’t just beat me. He said if I was born to be used, then he might as well sell me to someone who would make money out of me.”

Mahima felt sick.

Mahira’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I knew I couldn’t stay. Not after what he did to my mother. Not after what he planned to do to me.”

She looked up, eyes hollow. “So I ran.”

Mahima exhaled sharply. “How?”

Mahira sighed. “The house was old. The window in my room had cracks, and the lock was weak. That night, after he passed out drunk, I took my mother’s dupatta, tied it to the window bars, and pulled with everything I had until they broke.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “I fell. Sprained my ankle. But I didn’t stop.”

Mahima could picture it—a terrified thirteen-year-old girl limping through the dark, bloodied, bruised, but determined to live.

“I ran and ran and ran until my legs gave out.” Mahira swallowed hard. “I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know where to go. But I knew one thing—I would rather die than go back to him.”

Tears slipped down Mahima’s cheeks. “And then?”

Mahira wiped at her own silent tears. “Then… I was found.”

Mahima’s heart thumped. “By who?”

Mahira gave a small, tired smile. “By the woman who raised me. The woman who became my real mother.”

Mahima exhaled, feeling a deep ache in her soul.

Mahira looked at her straight in the eye.

“You want to know why my mother left you? Why she couldn’t come back for you?”

Mahima nodded shakily.

Mahira’s voice was soft but unshakable.

“Because she had to protect me from the same monster she saved you from.”

Silence fell.

Mahima’s eyes blurred with tears.

Aarush’s jaw was locked, fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white.

Rishi looked at Mahira like he was seeing her for the first time—a survivor, a warrior, a woman who had been through hell and still stood strong.

Mahima reached forward and pulled Mahira into a tight, desperate hug.

This time, Mahira didn’t resist.

This time, she let herself be held.

And this time… she let herself be loved.

♡♡♡♡♡

Just as the silence thickened between them, the door creaked open.

Daisy stepped in, a clipboard in her hand, her expression unreadable. “Myra, it’s time for your appointment.”

Mahima’s brows furrowed. “Appointment?”

Mahira stiffened but quickly schooled her features. “It’s nothing. Just a routine check-up.”

Mahima wasn’t convinced. Her instincts screamed that it was something deeper, but Mahira’s closed-off expression warned her not to push.

Mahira exhaled and gestured toward the door. “You guys should probably leave now.”

Mahima’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I can stay—”

“No,” Mahira cut in, her voice firm. “Go.”

Mahima stared at her for a long moment before nodding slowly. But just as she turned, she whispered, “Is he alive?”

Mahira’s fingers twitched. Her eyes darkened for a fraction of a second before she murmured, “I don’t know.”

Mahima and Rishi exchanged a look, then walked out.

But Aarush didn’t move.

Mahira’s sharp gaze landed on him. “You too, Aarush sir.”

His jaw tightened. “No.”

Mahira sighed but didn’t argue. She knew better than to waste her breath. Instead, she simply turned and walked ahead.

Aarush followed.

As they stepped into the hallway, Daisy, walking beside Mahira, mumbled under her breath, “You told them?”

Mahira nodded.

Daisy let out a knowing sigh. “Not fully, huh?”

Mahira bowed her head, her silence speaking volumes.

Aarush’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t heard their exchange, but something about their body language pricked his instincts.

He followed them into the physiotherapy ward.

His brows furrowed.

Mahira’s hand clenched at her side. Daisy’s face remained neutral.

The air inside the physiotherapy ward was clinical, the scent of disinfectants heavy, mixing with the faint hum of machines and murmured conversations.

Mahira walked in with measured steps, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. She had been here before—not too many times.

Daisy guided her to a chair near the treatment table, offering a comforting pat on her shoulder. “You ready?”

Mahira gave a slow nod. No, she wasn’t.

Aarush stood at the doorway, arms crossed, his sharp gaze never leaving her. He had a feeling she had been hiding more than just an old injury.

But as the physiotherapist arrived, all thoughts were drowned out by the looming pain ahead.

The doctor—Dr. Prakash—pulled on his gloves. “We’ll take it slow today. Since the cast was removed recently, the stiffness will be severe.”

Mahira just nodded again, clenching her jaw.

Aarush took a step forward, arms unfolding, his body tensed. Why did this feel wrong?

Dr. Prakash gently took Mahira’s right hand, now healed but stiff as stone.

“Try to make a fist,” he instructed.

Mahira’s fingers barely curled. Trembled.

Aarush didn’t miss it.

The doctor pressed lightly on her knuckles, guiding the movement.

A sharp intake of breath.

She forced herself to stay still.

“Good. Now, straighten your fingers.”

She obeyed, but as soon as her fingers stretched fully, a sharp, electric pain shot through her wrist, burning up to her shoulder.

Her nails dug into her own thigh.

Aarush’s fists clenched.

Dr. Prakash barely hesitated before gently pressing her wrist outward, stretching it.

Mahira’s body jolted.

Her lips parted. No sound came out.

Her chest heaved.

Daisy took a step closer. “Breathe, Mahira.”

Mahira gritted her teeth, forcing a shaky inhale.

The doctor moved to her elbow.

“Now, lift your wrist.”

She tried. It wouldn’t move.

The stiffness made her arm feel like dead weight.

Dr. Prakash supported her fingers and slowly lifted it himself.

A sharp cry escaped.

She swallowed it instantly.

Her nails dug into the chair.

Aarush’s heart twisted.

His nails bit into his palm, watching her struggle, her suffering.

His Mahira never showed pain.

She never let anyone see her weakness.

But right now—right in front of him—she was breaking.

Dr. Prakash’s hands moved to her finger joint, rotating it slightly.

The pain burned white-hot.

Her body jerked.

Her face contorted, but she held back.

Aarush could see her throat working, swallowing the screams.

Her hand shook violently.

A choked sob slipped past her lips.

His chest caved.

“Enough.” His voice was low. Dangerous.

Dr. Prakash stilled. “We have to—”

“I said enough.”

Mahira, panting, shook her head. “No. Keep going.”

Aarush’s teeth gritted.

Dr. Prakash continued, moving her wrist in slow rotations.

Tears silently slipped down her cheeks.

Her shoulders shook.

Aarush’s nails bit deeper into his skin.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor pulled back.

“We’ll do a little more every session. Your full range of movement will take a month to return. But you need to bear with the pain.”

Mahira nodded weakly, wiping her face with trembling fingers.

Daisy was already holding a glass of water.

Aarush?

He turned around.

Walked out.

Mahira’s stomach twisted.

He was gone.

Did he leave because he couldn’t stand her weakness?

She blinked at the thought, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall.

Daisy, noticing her sudden silence, touched her arm. “He’s hurting too.”

Mahira looked away.

She didn't know what hurt more—the pain in her arm or the silent ache in her chest.

She stared at the spot where Aarush had been standing just moments ago.

His lingering presence still clung to the air, like an invisible force pressing down on her chest.

Daisy shifted beside her, watching her with knowing eyes.

“Should I call him back?” she asked softly.

Mahira’s fingers twitched.

She looked down at her bandaged hands, nails digging into the gauze.

Finally, she shook her head. “No. It’s better this way.”

Daisy huffed. “Better? For who?”

Mahira stood up, her movements slow, controlled—as if trying to mask the storm inside her.

Daisy followed, walking beside her as they stepped into the hallway. The cold air outside the therapy room felt suffocating, not freeing.

Daisy didn’t let the silence settle.

“Why do you keep pushing him away?” she asked, arms crossed. “Do you think it’s going to help?”

Mahira exhaled, closing her eyes briefly before glancing at her. “Daisy…”

“No, don’t ‘Daisy’ me.” She stepped in front of Mahira, blocking her way. “You’re running.”

Mahira’s jaw tightened. “I’m not.”

Daisy scoffed. “Then tell me—what exactly are you doing?”

Mahira stared past her, her expression cold. Guarded. “I’m making things easier for him.”

Daisy’s brows furrowed. “Easier?”

Mahira let out a breathy chuckle, hollow and sharp.

“You think he’ll stay once he finds out?” she said, her voice quieter, weaker.

Daisy’s lips parted slightly, realization settling in.

Mahira turned away, gripping the edges of her sleeves tightly. “When he knows what happened to me—what I’ve been through—he’ll leave.”

Daisy shook her head. “No. He won’t.”

Mahira laughed dryly. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Mahira looked at her, her expression unreadable.

Daisy sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t have to keep suffering alone, Mahira.”

Mahira stared at the floor for a long moment, her lips slightly parted, her shoulders stiff.

Then, finally, she let out a small, reluctant chuckle.

Daisy frowned. “What?”

Mahira lifted a brow at her, her lips curling just slightly.

“Why are you defending Aarush sir so much? You didn’t even like him.”

Daisy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Well, I still don’t. But you do.”

Mahira froze.

Daisy smirked, nudging her shoulder. “And that’s the real problem, isn’t it?”

Mahira looked away, her heart pounding painfully.

Because Daisy wasn’t wrong.

But admitting it?

That was an entirely different kind of pain.

♡♡♡♡♡

Aarush stormed into the cold, dimly lit police station, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with fury.

The stench of sweat, rust, and stale cigarette smoke lingered in the air, but he didn’t care. His fists were tight, his heart pounding like a war drum inside his chest.

He scanned the holding cells, his gaze sharp, calculating, ruthless. And then—he saw him.

The man who had ruined Mahira’s life.

Aarush’s blood boiled at the sight of him. A pathetic excuse for a human being.

The man was slouched against the bars, his beady eyes darting around the station as if searching for an escape.

Aarush’s voice was like a blade cutting through the silence. “Release him.”

The officers turned, startled by his presence, but one man stepped forward—Ashwin.

Ashwin frowned, adjusting his belt. “I can’t do that, Aarush. You know that.”

Aarush took a step closer, his voice dangerously low. “You will.”

Ashwin exhaled, shaking his head. “The law doesn’t work like that, Aarush. He’s in here for a reason. You can’t just—”

Before he could finish, another voice echoed through the room.

“I can.”

The entire station seemed to freeze.

The officers snapped to attention, saluting as a tall, commanding figure stepped inside—Vikrant.

The man carried an air of authority, his presence alone enough to make the entire room tense.

His sharp, calculating eyes met Aarush’s, and a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“If the State’s Chief Minister says he can be released…” Vikrant drawled, his tone casual, yet filled with undeniable power. “Then, of course, we must follow orders.”

Aarush didn’t blink. His fury didn’t waver.

The officers hesitated only for a moment before one of them grabbed the keys.

The sound of the cell unlocking echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room.

The man inside straightened, a twisted smirk playing on his lips as he stepped out, rolling his shoulders.

Aarush’s hands itched to break every bone in his body.

The air between them was suffocating. Predator versus prey.

The man, however, had no idea that he was standing in front of his worst nightmare.

Vikrant tilted his head slightly. “He’s free to go now. So… what will you do with him, Aarush?”

Aarush’s lips curled into a deadly smile.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

♡♡♡♡♡

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blood.

The man blinked, his vision hazy, his head pounding.

Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was stepping out of the police station—free. Now, he was here, in the middle of nowhere.

The valley was dark, the only light coming from the faint moon above, casting eerie shadows over the rough terrain.

Jagged rocks, uneven ground—it was a place meant for ghosts and forgotten sins.

And standing in front of him was a man who looked like death himself.

Aarush.

Tall, broad, exuding an aura of absolute rage. His coat flared slightly with the wind, his sharp eyes gleaming with pure, unfiltered wrath.

The man staggered to his feet, a lazy smirk forming on his chapped lips. “What now, boy?” His voice was hoarse, mocking.

“You think you can scare me? You may have your money, your power, but at the end of the day, you're just another brat playing hero.”

Aarush didn’t reply.

He didn’t need to.

The silence between them was deafening.

The man chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “Or maybe… you’re here because of that little whore?” His smirk widened.

“Mahira, was it? Ahh, she was a feisty one. Screamed like a damn animal, but you should’ve seen the way she—”

He didn’t get to finish.

CRACK.

A fist met his jaw, the force sending him stumbling back. Blood sprayed from his mouth, mixing with the dirt beneath him.

He coughed, spitting out a tooth, his smirk faltering for the first time.

Aarush’s voice was lethal, calm, chilling.

“Go on. Keep talking.”

The man wiped his bleeding lip, rage flaring in his beady eyes. He lunged.

But he was too slow.

Aarush dodged effortlessly, grabbing his wrist and twisting it back at an unnatural angle.

The sickening snap echoed through the valley as the man howled in agony, dropping to his knees.

“That’s one.” Aarush’s voice was void of mercy.

The man clutched his wrist, his face contorted in pain, but still, he laughed through the agony. “That all you got? You think this’ll make her forget? You think this will fix her?”

He chuckled darkly, eyes gleaming with something twisted. “She was broken, boy. You should’ve seen how she cried, how she begged—”

SLAM.

Aarush grabbed his head and smashed it into the nearest rock.

Blood splattered onto the cold ground. The man’s body went limp for a moment before he groaned, dazed.

Aarush pulled him back up, gripping his collar, his voice as sharp as a blade.

“She begged?” He yanked him closer, his fury seething beneath his skin. “You mean the way you’re about to?”

The man growled, trying to fight back, swinging his good hand at Aarush’s face.

But Aarush caught it mid-air.

And twisted.

Another sickening crack. Another scream.

“Two.” Aarush counted coldly.

The man gasped, his body trembling from the sheer pain, but still, he wouldn’t shut up.

His breathing was ragged, his words slurred from blood filling his mouth, but he still sneered.

“Maybe I should’ve gone further. Maybe I should’ve taught her how to—”

Aarush lost it.

SLAP.

The impact was so strong that the man’s entire body jerked. His ears rang, his vision blurred. Before he could even process the pain—

SLAP.

His head snapped to the other side. Blood trickled down his nose.

SLAP.

This time, his body collapsed to the ground. His head throbbed, his mind spinning in and out of consciousness. But Aarush wasn’t done.

Not yet.

The man lay sprawled on the cold, bloodstained ground, his body trembling, barely clinging to consciousness.

His once-arrogant smirk was gone—replaced by pure, unadulterated fear.

Aarush stood over him, his breathing steady, his knuckles coated in blood—not his own.

His white shirt was stained crimson, but his expression remained eerily calm, like a god deciding the fate of a mere mortal.

The man coughed, blood spilling from his lips, his body convulsing from the brutal beating he had endured. Still, his wretched mouth wouldn’t stay shut.

“Mahira…” he rasped, a sickening smile tugging at his split lips. “She was my favorite.”

Aarush froze.

Something inside him snapped.

That was it.

No more mercy.

No more restraint.

The world blurred around him as he moved in a flash, his boot slamming into the man's chest.

Bones cracked beneath the force, a strangled scream tearing from his throat.

Aarush crouched beside him, gripping his face so hard his nails dug into his skin.

“You lost the right to speak her name.” His voice was cold, merciless. “You don’t get to exist in the same world as her.”

The man sobbed, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but Aarush didn’t stop.

He wouldn’t stop.

Gripping his already broken wrist, he twisted—hard.

Another sickening snap.

The man howled, thrashing in agony, his body convulsing like a dying animal.

Aarush leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Tell me… Did she cry like this?”

The man whimpered.

Good.

Aarush grabbed him by the hair, dragging his nearly lifeless body across the dirt.

Blood smeared the ground as he forced him up—just enough to see the jagged edge of the rock nearby.

The same rock he had used to shatter his face moments ago.

The man’s eyes widened, terror flashing across his bloodshot gaze. He knew.

Aarush didn’t say a word.

He slammed the man’s head against the rock.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Again.

Each impact painted the stone red, each hit sending a sickening crunch into the air. The man’s body convulsed violently, his screams gurgling into silence.

Aarush didn’t stop until there was nothing left of him.

The valley fell into a deafening stillness.

Aarush stood, his hands soaked in the blood of the monster he had destroyed. He felt nothing. No guilt. No regret.

Only satisfaction.

The man was gone.

Mahira was safe.

And Aarush—he would carry this sin without hesitation.

For her.

♡♡♡♡♡

Mahima leaned back on the plush couch of her house, arms crossed, eyes sharp with determination. Rishi sat beside her, watching her with cautious curiosity.

“Are you serious about this?” he finally asked.

Mahima shot him a pointed look. “You thought I’d just let him live?” Her voice was steady but laced with venom.

“You thought I’d forgive him? Just because Mahira is safe from him now?” She scoffed. “He’s still breathing, Rishi. That’s a problem.”

Rishi sighed, rubbing his temples. He had expected this. The moment Mahira revealed her past, he had known Mahima wouldn’t sit still. Wouldn’t just accept it.

And honestly? He wasn’t going to stop her.

“She didn’t even ask for this,” he muttered.

Mahima clenched her jaw. “Yeah? Well, neither did she ask for a childhood full of pain and nightmares.” Her fingers dug into the fabric of the couch. “She didn’t ask for a monster of a father. But she got one.”

Rishi didn’t argue. Because she was right.

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.

Mahima stood up immediately, already knowing who it was. She walked to the door, swung it open, and stepped aside as Divya strolled in.

Divya, dressed in casual jeans and a fitted black top, had that usual smirk of hers. But today, there was something else in her eyes—a glint of excitement.

She was here for a mission.

“Wow,” Divya said, glancing around. “Rich girl, fancy room, but still plotting murders like a street thug.”

Mahima rolled her eyes. “Shut up and sit down.”

Divya smirked but obeyed, dropping onto the couch. She turned to Rishi. “You convinced her to let this go yet?”

Rishi exhaled, shaking his head. “Like I even tried.”

Divya grinned, turning back to Mahima. “Alright, princess. Who’s the dead man walking?”

Mahima’s eyes darkened. “Mahira’s father.”

Divya’s smirk disappeared.

A heavy silence followed.

Then, slowly, Divya pulled out her laptop.

“Say less,” she muttered, typing at an alarming speed. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, codes flashing across the screen.

Mahima and Rishi exchanged glances.

Divya’s skills weren’t just ‘good.’ They were lethal.

“This man,” Divya said, eyes glued to the screen, “he’s been in and out of trouble for years. Petty theft, fraud, assault charges…”

She paused, then frowned. “Damn.”

Mahima’s heart pounded. “What?”

Divya turned the laptop toward them.

“Looks like someone’s been covering for him.”

Mahima and Rishi leaned forward, scanning the data. Bank transactions, false identities, erased records.

“He’s not just some washed-up criminal,” Divya murmured.

“Someone’s keeping him safe.”

Mahima’s fingers curled into fists. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore.

This was a hunt.

And she would not stop until he was found.

♡♡♡♡♡

S

he never spoke of the scars, but somehow, he knew exactly where it hurt; and he was going to give away everything just to heal them.❤️‍🩹❣️🌟