73. The Queen.

Hello!

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

The elders sat back on the large leather chairs in the bloodied basement, their expressions unreadable as they processed the revelation that their once-seemingly innocent daughters-in-law were, in fact, mafia legends.

The silence was thick with tension, broken only by the muffled groans of Ishika's chacha and chachi, who were chained to the walls, their bruised faces barely recognizable.

Amrita crossed her legs elegantly, a smirk tugging at her lips as she turned to Rudraksh. “Well, my part of the torturing is over. Now I think I’ll sit back, relax, and enjoy your part, Rudraksh bhaiya.”

Her voice dripped with amusement, and she leaned back into her chair, her sharp gaze fixed on the chained figures.

Rudraksh cracked his knuckles and gave her a wry smile. “Your wish, Ammu.”

Without hesitation, he strode forward, his presence commanding. Ishika’s chacha and chachi flinched as he approached, their eyes wide with terror.

Standing before them, Rudraksh tilted his head and examined their trembling forms. “You destroyed a young girl childhood,” he said coldly, his voice a low growl. “Now, I’ll destroy something of yours.”

He pulled out a blade—sleek, sharp, and glinting under the dim light.

Without giving them a moment to react, he grabbed Ishika’s chacha’s hand and pressed the blade against his palm.

Slowly, methodically, Rudraksh began slicing the skin off his hands, peeling it layer by layer. The man screamed, his voice raw and hoarse, but Rudraksh’s expression remained stoic.

“You don’t get to scream,” Rudraksh said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “You don’t get to beg. This is justice.”

Blood dripped from the man’s hands onto the cold floor, pooling beneath him.

Ishika’s chachi sobbed uncontrollably, her terror mounting with every passing second.

Rudraksh turned his attention to her next, cutting the skin off her hands in the same methodical manner.

She shrieked, her body trembling violently, but no mercy came her way.

Finally, Rudraksh stood, his shirt slightly stained with blood. Next, he pulled out a bottle of sanitizer and poured it elegantly on their exposed flesh. Their painful shrieks filled the room.

He tossed the blade and bottle aside and turned to Ishika, his face calm. “Do you want the final blow?” he asked.

Ishika met his gaze, her face neutral, unreadable. She shook her head. “No. They’re not worth the effort,” she said softly, her tone cold. Her words sent chills through the room.

Mahima smirked and turned her attention to Divya, who sat quietly in Daksh’s lap, observing everything with a calm demeanor.

“And what about you, Divi Ma?” Mahima asked, her voice teasing yet laced with curiosity. “Don’t tell me you don’t want your turn.”

Divya’s lips curved into a slow smile as her gaze fell on her grandmother, who was chained to the wall, her frail body trembling.

“She’s old,” Divya said, her voice deceptively soft. “And after all, she is my grandmother.”

Her grandmother let out a shaky sigh of relief, hope flickering in her terrified eyes. But Divya wasn’t done.

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “So, I don’t want to torture her anymore,” she continued, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Instead, let’s make it quick.”

The relief on her grandmother’s face vanished in an instant as Divya smirked wickedly.

“Cut her throat ever so slightly,” she ordered, her voice firm. “Let the blood ooze out slowly, painfully, until she dies gasping for breath.”

The room went deathly silent. Divya’s grandmother stared at her, horrified, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to speak, but no words came.

Daksh’s jaw dropped as he stared at his wife in disbelief, the sweet, innocent Honeypie he thought he knew revealing a side he had never imagined.

“Wow…” he muttered, but she ignored him, her eyes fixed on Mahima.

Mahima’s smirk widened as she nodded. “With pleasure,” she said, retrieving a knife.

She walked up to Divya’s grandmother, who began thrashing weakly against her chains, her voice a feeble plea. “No… please… no…”

But Mahima didn’t hesitate. She tilted the old woman’s chin up, exposing her neck. With precise, calculated movement, she dragged the blade across her throat, just deep enough to let the blood spill out slowly.

The crimson liquid flowed, staining her clothes as she gasped and choked, her life slipping away painfully.

Everyone watched in silence as the horrifying scene unfolded. Divya’s grandmother’s eyes widened in terror, her mouth forming silent screams as she struggled for air. It was a slow, agonizing death, exactly as Divya had ordered.

When it was finally over, Mahima stepped back, wiping the blade clean. She turned to Divya with a satisfied grin. “Done. As you commanded.”

Divya smiled, looking at her grandmother’s lifeless body with no hint of regret. She turned to face the others, her expression calm.

The room was silent again, but this time it was filled with a mix of pride and stunned admiration. The elders exchanged approving glances, clearly impressed by Divya’s ruthlessness.

As for Daksh, he stared at Divya, his expression a mix of shock and something else—pride. Slowly, a small smirk formed on his face as he realized just how formidable his wife truly was.

“You’re full of surprises, Honeypie,” he muttered under his breath, earning a small smile from Divya.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

The air in the basement was thick with tension, the scent of blood and death clinging to the walls.

As Divya’s grandmother took her final breath, her gurgled cries fading into silence, Daksh stepped forward. His sharp gaze fell on Aman, who was trembling violently, his eyes wide with terror.

“Please… please… I-I didn’t mean to— I swear, I’ll never do anything again! Have mercy!” Aman begged, tears streaming down his face as he crawled backward, desperate to create distance.

Daksh smirked, a chilling expression that only made Aman cower further.

“Mercy?” he echoed, his voice calm but cold. “You think you deserve mercy after what you did to my wife? You’ll find none here.”

He held out his hand, and Rishi silently brought him a small wooden box.

Daksh opened it slowly, the faint sound of squirming coming from inside.

The moment he tilted the box forward, Aman’s horrified gasp echoed in the room. Flesh-eating worms writhed inside, their movements unsettling and grotesque.

“No!” Aman shrieked, struggling against his chains as Daksh knelt before him, his smirk never faltering. “Please! Don’t do this!”

Daksh chuckled darkly, tilting the box. “Enjoy the company,” he muttered as the worms spilled onto Aman, their tiny bodies wriggling as they latched onto his flesh.

Aman’s screams filled the room, his agony reveberating off the cold walls as the worms began their grotesque feast.

Daksh stood, brushing his hands off as if ridding himself of filth. He turned back to Divya, who watched the scene unfold with cold satisfaction.

Without a word, Daksh scooped her up in his arms, settling her onto his lap as they sat back to watch Aman’s slow, excruciating death.

The room was silent except for Aman’s pitiful screams and the faint crackle of his flesh being devoured. Divya leaned against Daksh, her calm demeanor unnerving to everyone present.

By now, Divya’s grandmother’s lifeless body slumped against the wall, her terror frozen on her face. Rudraksh’s brows furrowed as he scanned the room. Something was off.

“Where’s Ishika?” he asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension. Everyone stilled, their gazes darting around the room.

“I don’t see her,” Aarush muttered, his voice laced with unease.

Just then, the heavy basement door emitted a faint red glow, the light intensifying with each passing second.

Amrita, Ananya, Mahima, and Divya stiffened, their postures suddenly rigid. Divya froze in Daksh’s lap, her body tense.

“What’s happening?” Shravan asked, confusion etched onto his face.

Before anyone could answer, the door creaked open, and the glow flooded the room.

A figure stepped through the doorway, her presence suffocating and commanding.

She wore a blood-red dress, clinging to her curves with precision, the slit running high on her thigh.

The fabric shimmered faintly, almost as if it were alive.

Her high heels clicked against the floor with each step, echoing in the stunned silence.

But it was the crown atop her head that demanded attention—a large, dark, ornate piece adorned with crimson gems that gleamed like freshly spilled blood.

Her long black hair cascaded in waves down her back, framing a face so sharp, so commanding, that even the most defiant would falter before her.

Her eyes, glowing with a dangerous intensity, scanned the room. Every step she took carried a regal, lethal grace, her aura exuding power and control.

Amrita, Ananya, Mahima, and Divya immediately bowed their heads, their respect unspoken but undeniable.

The rest of the room seemed to follow instinctively, their bodies rising from their seats without conscious thought.

Even the most hardened men of the family found themselves standing, their knees weak under the weight of her presence.

It took a moment—an agonizingly long moment—before Rudraksh and the others finally recognized her.

“Ishika?” Rudraksh breathed, disbelief and awe mingling in his voice.

Ishika walked straight to her chacha and chachi, who were now trembling violently, their terror palpable.

“You destroyed me,” she said, her tone eerily calm. “And now, you’ll face the Queen you created.”

Their eyes widened in horror as they stammered, “Ishika… please… we’re family… forgive us!”

She let out a dark laugh, her voice echoing hauntingly. “Family?” she mocked. “You forfeited that title the moment you hurt me.”

With a snap of her fingers, two of her bodyguards appeared, carrying heavy metal cans.

The stench of kerosene filled the room as they poured the liquid over the chained figures.

Ishika’s chacha and chachi thrashed desperately, but their chains held firm.

Ishika pulled out a silver lighter, flicking it open with a soft click. The small flame danced, reflecting in her piercing eyes. She took a step closer, her presence overwhelming.

“Have a nice journey,” she said coldly, her voice devoid of mercy, before tossing the lighter.

The flames roared to life, engulfing the two in a fiery blaze. Their screams pierced the air, echoing through the basement as their bodies writhed in agony.

The scent of burning flesh was suffocating, but Ishika stood unfazed, watching the fire with an expression of cruel satisfaction.

The rest of the room stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they processed the transformation of the once-innocent Ishika into the ruthless Queen before them.

Even Rudraksh, Daksh, Aditya and Aaryansh, hardened as they were, found themselves shaken.

Ishika turned, her gaze sweeping over the room. “You wanted justice,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding. “This is justice.”

As the flames died down behind her, Ishika turned away from the charred remains of her chacha and chachi and walked back toward her family.

Their wide-eyed expressions followed her every movement, their mouths slightly agape in disbelief. For a moment, the room was utterly silent, save for the faint crackling of the embers.

When she reached them, Ishika hesitated, her regal demeanor fading as a shy smile spread across her face.

She raised her hands, gently removing the heavy crown from her head, and handed it to one of her bodyguards.

With a simple gesture, she dismissed them, and they silently retreated, leaving the family alone.

She turned back to her family, her eyes flickering with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Amrita, standing tall and proud, stepped forward, her lips curling into a smirk. She clapped her hands together once, the sound reverberating through the room.

“Let me introduce you all to our boss,” Amrita announced, her voice ringing with authority. Her words carried a certain weight, a sense of reverence.

She paused for dramatic effect, her smirk deepening.

“The Queen.”

The name echoed in the basement, and everyone stared at Ishika in stunned silence.

The Queen? Their Ishika?

Rudraksh’s brows furrowed in disbelief, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

His mind raced, trying to reconcile the image of the soft-spoken Ishika with the commanding woman who had just reduced two people to ashes.

Ishika gave a nervous laugh, her hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know this is a lot to take in,” she said softly, her voice humble yet steady. “But… this is who I am.”

Amrita chuckled, breaking the heavy silence. “And that’s not all.” She stepped closer, glancing at everyone with a proud gleam in her eyes. “Let me introduce the rest of us.”

She gestured to herself with a flourish. “Amrita—The Venom.”

Aaryansh froze, his jaw dropping. “WHAT?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re… The Venom?” His disbelief was palpable.

The Venom was a name whispered with fear and respect in the darkest corners of the underworld, and now he realized that name belonged to his wife.

Amrita merely shrugged, her smirk widening. “Surprise!”

Mahima stepped forward next, crossing her arms with a playful glint in her eyes. “And I,” she began, her voice laced with mischief, “am The Vetra.”

Rishi’s face went pale. “You’re joking,” he said, shaking his head. “Mahima… you can’t be—”

“Oh, but I am,” she interrupted, her tone light but firm. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

Ananya giggled, stepping up with her usual energy. “And me? They call me Phoenix.”

Aditya’s face twisted in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at her as if she had just told him she was an alien.

“You… Phoenix? The one who burned an entire syndicate to ashes?”

Ananya tilted her head, a cheeky grin on her face. “It’s called poetic justice..” she shrugged.

Finally, Divya looked up from Daksh’s lap, her eyes meeting his as she spoke softly. “And I’m Phantom.”

Daksh froze, his arms instinctively tightening around her as his brain tried to process her words.

“Wait,” he said, his voice incredulous. “You’re the Phantom? The biggest hacker in the underworld?”

Divya nodded shyly, biting her lip as she avoided his gaze. “Well… yeah.”

Daksh let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “And here I thought you were just good with books.”

The room was heavy with stunned silence as the reality of the situation settled over them.

The men stared at their wives, each of them a force to be reckoned with, their reputations now fully revealed.

And yet, there was an undeniable sense of pride mingling with the shock.

Rudraksh broke the silence first, running a hand through his hair as he let out a breathless laugh. “I don’t know whether to be terrified or impressed,” he admitted.

“Both,” Amrita quipped, smirking.

Divya glanced at Daksh, her lips curling into a small smile. “Are you… mad?” she asked hesitantly.

Daksh chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Mad? No. Shocked? Definitely. But you, my Honeypie, just became even more interesting.”

The tension finally broke, a collective breath of relief washing over the group.

Ishika smiled nervously, looking around at her family. “So… are we good now?” she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

Amrita grinned, pulling Ishika into a side hug. “Oh, we’re better than good. You just made history.”

With that, the group decided it was time to head home. The chaos of the evening had finally settled, and despite the blood and fire that had consumed the night, there was an unspoken understanding between them all.

This was their family, twisted and unconventional as it may be. And nothing—no one—could stand in their way.

As they climbed the stairs and exited the basement, the faint smell of kerosene lingered in the air.

But The Queen and her Venom, Vetra, Phoenix, and Phantom had shown their true selves, and the world would never be the same.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Comment your views on this chapter!!!

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

And Just Like That... It Was Over.🖤✨