Chapter-44

Author's POV,

The sterile scent of disinfectant stung Rudra's nostrils as he paced outside Pihu's hospital room, phone pressed tightly to his ear. His voice, usually smooth and controlled, was now laced with ice. "Veer," he growled, his knuckles white as they gripped the phone, "make sure that son of a... Bitch," he spat the name with disgust, "is made to understand the gravity of his crime."

"Make him see hell on earth," Rudra continued, his voice low and dangerous. "Make him wish he were dead. But don't grant him that mercy. I want him to beg for it, to plead for an end that won't come." A surge of primal rage coursed through him, a dark counterpoint to the worry gnawing at his insides.

Veer, on the other end of the line, listened intently. He had come to France upon hearing the news of Pihu's shooting, knowing that Rudra would need help in managing his business affairs. But he also understood the depth of Rudra's feelings for Pihu and the need for vengeance.

A low growl rumbled through the receiver. "Consider it done, Rudra," Veer assured him. "Rudransh won't be singing any happy tunes by the time I'm finished with him."

Rudra let out a humorless scoff. "Good. Because right now, the only song I want to hear is Pihu's laughter." His voice softened, a stark contrast to the steely resolve moments before.

Concern bled through Veer's gruff voice. "And how is Pihu?"

"Stable for now," Rudra replied, his expression softening slightly. "The bullet missed her spine, but she lost a lot of blood. I can't leave her side right now."

Veer's voice, gruff but laced with concern, rumbled through the receiver. "Rudra, focus on Pihu. That's all that matters right now. Leave the... settling the score to me for the time being.

Rudra knew Veer wouldn't disappoint. They had an understanding built on years of loyalty and shared experience.Taking a deep breath, Rudra forced himself to focus on the present. "Alright, Veer," he conceded, the tension in his voice easing slightly. "Handle it. But keep me updated. And Veer," he added, a steely glint entering his voice, "make him suffer until I can deal with him personally."

He ended the call, shoving the phone back into his pocket. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, the image of Pihu's pale face flashing behind his eyelids. Guilt gnawed at him – guilt for not anticipating the attack, guilt for putting her in danger.

He had promised to protect her, yet he had failed. But this wasn't over. He would make Rudransh pay, dearly. And more importantly, he would never let Pihu out of his sight again.

The weight of the conversation with Veer pressed down on him, mirroring the sterile white walls of the waiting room. A soft whimper from behind the closed door shattered the silence, snapping Rudra's attention. He rushed to the door, his hand hovering on the knob for a moment before he pushed it open cautiously.

Pihu lay on the bed, her face pale and drawn, but her eyes were fluttering open. A wave of relief washed over him, so intense it threatened to drown him.

"Pearl?" he rasped, his voice thick with emotion.

Her eyelids fluttered open fully, recognition dawning in their depths. She tried to speak, but her throat was dry and parched. Panic flickered in her eyes as they landed on the wires snaking into her arm, the drip stand towering over her like a menacing sentinel.

Memories of the alleyway flooded back in a terrifying rush – the gunfire, the searing pain, the darkness. She was in a hospital, hooked up to machines, a captive in a web of tubes and wires.

"Get this off me!" she shrieked, her voice weak but laced with panic. She tried to pull away, her hand flailing uselessly against the white sheets that held her down. But the weakness in her body, the dull ache in her back, were a cruel reminder of her predicament.

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over in a silent torrent. She felt like a trapped animal, vulnerable and helpless. Rudra's hand tightened on hers, his presence a grounding force amidst the rising tide of fear.

"Pearl, calm down," he soothed, his voice gentle yet firm. "You're in the hospital. You were shot, but the doctors are taking care of you. Those things are helping you get better."

His words did little to quell the rising panic, but the warmth in his touch offered a sliver of comfort. She squeezed his hand back weakly, the vulnerability in his eyes mirroring her own fear.

"Shhh," he murmured, leaning closer. "Don't be scared. I'm here, no one will hurt you anymore." He said this while holding one hand of hers in his, and with the other hand, he was gently stroking her cheek, wiping away the tears that continued to flow.

As Pihu calmed down slightly, a dry rasp escaped her lips. "Water," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Rudra's face softened further. "Of course, Pihu." He carefully helped her sit up a little and brought a straw to her lips, allowing her to take small sips of cool water. The doctor soon entered the room, his face a mask of professionalism. He checked Pihu's vitals, asked her a few questions, and reassured them both that she was stable for now. With a final nod, he left the room, leaving Pihu and Rudra alone once more.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, Pihu's gaze drifted to Rudra. He looked worn down, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and worry etched onto his features. Yet, beneath the surface, a storm of emotions brewed – anger, disappointment, a flicker of something defiant, and a heavy weight of guilt that pressed down on him like the sterile walls of the waiting room.

Pihu felt a pang of concern for him, but her own anxieties gnawed at her. She wanted to ask about Shaurya, but the memory of her failed escape attempt and the reason for her current predicament sent a fresh wave of panic through her. Rudra's carefully constructed dam of composure would surely crumble under the weight of her question, unleashing a torrent of emotions she wasn't sure she could handle.

She knew her escape attempt had put Shaurya in danger. What had become of him? Was Rudra furious with him for intervening? The thought sent a jolt of fear through her. She couldn't abandon Shaurya, but how could she bring him up without angering Rudra?

Lost in her thoughts, Pihu didn't realize Rudra was speaking.

"Pearl," he said gently, his voice laced with concern, "you should sleep. You need rest."

His words brought her back to the present. Steeling herself, she decided to face the truth. "Rudra," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "where... where is Shaurya?"

Pihu's question hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Rudra's hand, which had been gently caressing hers, tightened like a vise. Every muscle in his jaw clenched, and a flicker of something dangerous flared in his eyes. He understood her concern, the silent worry for her friend echoing in her weak voice.

But admitting Shaurya's fate right now was like poking a hornet's nest. The memory of Claire's frantic call, Pihu missing from the restaurant, still sent a jolt of rage through him. He'd promised himself then that she wouldn't defy him again. He'd tracked her with the locket, the one with the family picture, a constant reminder of his control. Finding her with Shaurya had been the final straw.

But looking at Pihu, pale and vulnerable, the anger simmered down to a low, dangerous heat. He couldn't unleash his fury on her, not now. Not when she was so fragile, so dependent on him.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Rudra forced a smile, albeit a strained one. "Shaurya," Rudra began, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Pihu's spine despite the warmth of his hand in hers. "He's safe. Taken care of." The words were clipped.

The warmth that Pihu might have found in those words was absent. His gaze, usually so intense when focused on her, held a coldness that sent shivers down her spine. It was a warning, a silent promise that Shaurya would deeply regret his intervention.

He squeezed her hand a little too tightly, the possessiveness in his touch mirroring the glint in his eyes. "Don't worry about him," he continued, his voice a low growl. "Right now, all you need to focus on is getting better. We'll deal with everything else later."

The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air, a suffocating weight that pressed down on Pihu's chest. She understood. Shaurya was in Rudra's clutches, most likely facing a punishment far worse than anything she could imagine. A strangled sob escaped her lips, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew her escape attempt had put him in danger, the guilt a bitter pill on her tongue.

"But-" Pihu started, her voice barely a whisper.

Rudra's hand tightened around hers, his grip far exceeding what could be considered comforting. "Pearl," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "I said rest." It wasn't a request, it was a command, a chilling reminder of the power he held over her.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the sterile confines of the room. Defiance, a spark she hadn't realized still flickered within her, ignited a desperate plea. "Rudra," her voice a choked whisper, "please, leave Shaurya alone. It wasn't his fault."

Rudra watched the tear trace a glistening path down Pihu's cheek, and a pang of guilt stabbed at his conscience. He'd seen enough death in his life, and the sight of her vulnerability, so close to losing her, was a torment he hadn't anticipated. The anger towards Shaurya, for a moment, seemed petty compared to the fierce protectiveness that flared up for Pihu.

He couldn't see her tears. Taking a deep breath, he plastered a reassuring smile on his face, the warmth failing to reach his eyes. "Shaurya," he began, his voice softer than she expected, "he'll be fine. I will...leave him alone." The lie felt like ash in his mouth, a bitter sacrifice he made for her peace of mind. A bitter lie, but a necessary one to quell the storm in her eyes. He wouldn't kill that man. Pihu wouldn't forgive that. But letting him walk away unscathed? Unthinkable.

Relief bloomed on Pihu's face, fragile as a newborn butterfly. "You promise?" she whispered, her voice barely audible "I promise," he echoed, his voice a touch too eager, a shade too hollow. He squeezed her hand gently, the lie a silent plea for her trust. "But I must not hear his name from your mouth again otherwise..."

He left the threat hanging as he said, "Rest, Pihu," his voice a touch too solicitous, a wolf in sheep's clothing. "We'll deal with everything else later. For now, focus on getting better."

Exhaustion, a tidal wave, swept over Pihu. Her eyelids fluttered closed, the promise of rest a welcome embrace. Rudra's promise, a balm on her wounded spirit, lulled her into a sense of false security. Rudra watched her sleep, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. He had given her what she craved – a reprieve for Shaurya. But within the confines of his own mind, a storm brewed. Shaurya wouldn't be getting away scot-free. Rudra would make sure of it.

A muscle in Rudra's jaw clenched involuntarily, a silent testament to the determination burning within him. Pihu, in her vulnerability due to injury, was unaware of the darkness lurking in Rudra's heart, the cold determination that settled over him like a shroud.

To Pihu, Rudra's tight-lipped smile and reassuring words were a beacon of hope. She believed he would do as he said, unaware of the storm brewing within him.Shaurya would learn a lesson he wouldn't soon forget, a harsh reminder of the consequences of crossing Rudra and the lengths he would go to, to keep Pihu with himself.

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Sunlight, fracturing into a million tiny diamonds as it passed through the window, danced across the dust motes in the sterile air. Pihu woke with a gasp, the rhythmic beep of the monitor filled the sterile room, punctuated by the slow drip-drip of the IV. Each pulse sent a tremor through her weak body, and a fresh wave of pain lanced through her back with a vengeance, a sharp twinge that stole her breath. The memory of the attack flooded back, bringing fresh tears to her eyes. A wave of nausea washed over her, followed by a dull ache in her back that tightened with each shallow breath, making her clench her fists against the sheets.

She glanced towards the worn couch in front of her bed.Rudra slept, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion. An empty coffee cup sat forgotten on the table beside him, condensation clinging to the glass like a stubborn memory.

Pihu knew he hadn't left her side. A warmth, unexpected and unwelcome, bloomed in Pihu's chest. She couldn't tear her gaze from his face, the sight of his vulnerability a stark contrast to the man who controlled her every move. A part of her, the part that yearned for the comfort of another human being, ached with a loneliness she hadn't dared to acknowledge before.

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To be continued.....