Chapter-47

Continuation to Flashback...

One evening, huddled around the flickering candle in their cramped room, a heavy silence settled over them.I stared at the flickering flame, my brow furrowed as numbers danced in my head. Sixteen. Barely finished school. The weight of responsibility for Flower and Rajveer's future pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket. How could he provide for them, give them a life beyond these worn walls, with nothing but a patchy education?

Sensing my turmoil, Rajveer nudged me gently. "Hey Rudra, something on your mind? You've been awfully quiet lately."

I sighed, the sound heavy in the small room. "I'm worried," I confessed, my voice thick with emotion. "I turned 16 today, and I've barely finished school. What kind of future is there for us here?"

Flower, perched on the floor beside me, looked up, her big brown eyes filled with concern. "We'll figure it out, Bhai," she said, her voice small but resolute. "Together."

Her unwavering faith warmed my heart, but a knot of worry remained lodged in my gut. Leaving the orphanage was a daunting prospect, but staying offered little hope. Steeling my resolve, I announced, "I'm going to get a job. We can't stay here forever."

Rajveer's eyebrows shot up. "But you're barely sixteen," he protested.

"Sixteen or sixty," I retorted, a newfound determination burning in my eyes, "I need to take care of you both."

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The following days were a blur of activity. I scoured the streets for any work I could find, from washing dishes at greasy spoons to hauling heavy crates at the docks. My days were long and exhausting, but the thought of a future where Flower and Rajveer wouldn't have to worry about their next meal fueled my every step.

One evening, as I trudged home, my arms aching and my stomach growling, I spotted a flyer advertising wait staff positions at a local club. The pay was decent, and desperation gnawed at the edges of my morals. Stepping inside the dimly lit club, the air thick with smoke and the smell of cheap alcohol, I felt a sliver of apprehension. But the image of Flower's hopeful smile spurred me onward.

The owner, a gruff man with a perpetually suspicious look, eyed me skeptically. "You look a little young, kid," he rumbled.

"I'm strong and I learn fast," I asserted, puffing out my chest in an attempt to appear older. "Give me a chance, you won't regret it."

He studied me for a long moment, then grunted in agreement. Relief washed over me, warm and welcome. That night, as I counted my meager earnings, a spark of hope ignited within me. It wasn't much, but it was a start, a brick laid on the path to our future.

Months turned into a year. The job at the club was demanding, filled with long hours and shady characters, but I persevered. Saving was a constant battle. Every coin earned was a tiny victory, a sliver of hope tucked away for a brighter tomorrow. It wasn't easy, but seeing the joy on Flower's face when I snuck her a stolen pastry, or the quiet gratitude in Rajveer's eyes when I brought home a warm meal, fueled my resolve.

Then, came the chance. A glimmer of hope in the suffocating darkness. A kind soul, seeing the embers of a dream glowing in my eyes, offered me a loan. My mother's dream – a cozy haven for weary travelers, a refuge built with warmth and hospitality. It wasn't a hotel empire, not yet, but it was a foundation, a brick laid upon the memory of Mom.

The first year was a whirlwind. Every guest was a test, their satisfied smiles the sweetest validation. Slowly, the little guest house began to hum with life. The clatter of happy conversations and the clinking of silverware replaced the deafening silence that had haunted us for so long.

But the scars of the past ran deep. Even with success taking root, nights still found me behind the bar at the club, a double life etched in exhaustion. Yet, after a year, a semblance of stability emerged. A sliver of hope that I could finally build a good life with my newfound family.

But like fate would have it, everything turned upside down again. Unbeknownst to me, Yashvardhan had seen me at the club that day. He sat in the private area, hidden from my view, plotting his next move. Little did I know, a storm was brewing, one that would shatter the fragile peace I had managed to build.

Piecing together every thread of my life, from my time in the orphanage to my relationship with Ayana and Rajveer, Yashvardhan saw potential in me. He knew about my dream of opening a business, a dream I had nurtured since I was a child.

His discovery of my business endeavors at such a young age intrigued him. He saw an opportunity to use me as a pawn in his twisted game. And so, he began to set his plan in motion, a plan that would change the course of my life forever.

The greasy spoon clatter echoed in my ears, a dull counterpoint to the storm brewing within me. One minute I was wiping down a grimy counter, lost in the mindless rhythm of the job, the next, the air crackled with a tension so thick I could practically taste it.

"Well, well, well," a voice purred from the shadows, sending a jolt of ice straight through my veins. Slowly, I straightened, my gaze landing on a figure seated in a dimly lit corner booth. It was him – Yashvardhan. Time hadn't softened him one bit. A few more wrinkles etched themselves around his eyes, but those eyes – those cold, reptilian eyes – held the same glint of cruelty that had haunted my nightmares for years.

My breath caught in my throat, and a cold sweat slicked my palms. Years of burying emotions had turned me into a master of masks, but this... this was different. This was the man responsible for the gaping hole in my life, the man who'd shattered my world before I even had a chance to understand it.

"Can I get you something, sir?" I forced a smile, my lips feeling numb and foreign on my face.

He chuckled, a sound devoid of any warmth. "You already have, haven't you, boy?" His gaze flickered across my face, lingering on the undeniable resemblance he knew was there. "You have my face."

Anger, a white-hot ember, flickered to life within me. Years of buried rage threatened to erupt. How dare he stand there, reeking of power and privilege, the man who'd taken everything from me?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, my voice a hoarse whisper.

He leaned forward, his voice a low growl. "Don't play dumb with me, my dear long lost son. You know exactly who I am."

The words struck me like a physical blow. Son? The audacity of the man. "I am not your son!" I spat back, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

Yashvardhan's lips stretched into a smile that sent shivers down my spine. "You look just like her," he said, his voice dripping with a sickening sweetness, "just like your weak, foolish mother."

My breath hitched. The carefully constructed dam within me threatened to burst. "Don't you dare talk about her!" I snarled, the years of suppressed rage finally spilling out.

"Oh, I will talk about her," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "She was a fool to try and leave me. A foolish woman who underestimated me."

His words were a fresh wound, a brutal confirmation of the suspicions that had gnawed at me for years. "You... you killed her, didn't you?" The accusation ripped from my throat, raw and primal.

He didn't answer, but a cruel smile played on his lips, a silent confirmation that chilled me to the bone.

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed me from behind, hauling me to my feet. "Let me go!" I roared, struggling against their grip. But they were too strong. They dragged me through the back door of the club, into the inky blackness of the night.

When my vision adjusted, I found myself in a plush private room, the stench of expensive cigars hanging heavy in the air. Yashvardhan sat behind a mahogany desk, his face an emotionless mask.

"Let's talk about business,Son," he said, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Business?" I spat the word back at him, my voice dripping with contempt. "There's no business between us!"

"Now, now," he chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "You see, son," he continued, his voice taking on a smoother tone, "I've been watching you. You've got spunk, that much is clear. And you managed to build a little business for yourself at a surprisingly young age."

He pushed himself away from the desk and began to circle me like a predator stalking its prey. His gaze never leaving mine. "You have potential, boy. You could be great. But first, you need to learn where you came from."

His words were laced with a sickening sweetness, a predator grooming his prey. He stopped in front of me. "You'll work for me," he declared, the statement leaving no room for argument.

Rejection burned on my tongue, and I spat it out, the defiance a small victory in the face of his overwhelming power. "Go to hell," I roared, the sound echoing off the polished walls. It was a desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of control.

Yashvardhan didn't react with anger. Instead, a chilling silence descended upon the room. It was a silence heavier than any threat, a silence that spoke of a power that could crush me like a fly.

I stormed out, slamming the heavy oak door behind me. The sound reverberated through the hallway, a defiant echo in the face of his suffocating presence. But as I walked away, the unease gnawed at me like a ravenous beast. My defiance felt hollow, a fleeting victory in a war I was clearly losing.

Days bled into weeks, each sunrise a cruel reminder of my dwindling options. The business I'd built from the ground up, a testament to my blood, sweat, and tears, lay in ruins. Yashvardhan had tightened his grip, squeezing the life out of my dreams with a ruthless efficiency. Fear, a cold serpent, coiled tighter in my gut with every passing moment. But fear, I discovered, could mutate. It morphed into a desperate, steely resolve.

"I can't let him win," I muttered to myself, the words a silent oath in the sterile confines of my apartment.

One night, a call shattered the fragile peace. A voice, dripping with veiled threats, spoke of "accidents" and a sweet girl with eyes that mirrored mine. Flower 's innocent face flashed before my eyes, and a primal roar of rage echoed in my skull. Yashvardhan had dangled their safety, Flower and Rajveer's, like a twisted marionette, their lives hanging by a thread I couldn't bear to see snap.

The decision clawed its way to the surface, a bitter pill to swallow. I pictured Flower's hopeful smile, the beacon of light in this encroaching darkness. Rajveer's hand, a silent promise of support, tightened on my shoulder. The choice, though agonizing, became clear.

With a ragged breath, I dialed a number I despised. The phone rang once, twice, then Yashvardhan's voice, smooth as silk laced with venom, filled the receiver.

"Yes?" he drawled.

"It's done," I said, my voice tight with suppressed emotion. "I will work for you."

A hint of surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a predatory glint in his eyes. "Excellent," he purred. "Welcome to the family, son."

Eighteen. That was the age innocence died for me. Replaced by the stench of blood, the ever-present weight of betrayal gnawed at my soul. Yashvardhan's viper's nest – that's what I called it. A place where hope withered in the stale air, and darkness pressed in from all sides. Rajveer was my anchor in this storm, the one thing keeping me tethered to a semblance of humanity.

But Flower... she remained a beacon of light, a flickering flame in the encroaching darkness. Tucked away in the orphanage, she was a constant reminder of what I was fighting for. Not just survival, but the chance to one day pull us out of this darkness, to reclaim the life that had been stolen from me.

Every lesson with Yashvardhan was a descent into hell. Each brutal blow, each whispered threat against Flower and Rajveer, chipped away at the fragile hope I clung to. But even in that suffocating darkness, a spark of defiance remained. I learned the ways of the mafia, not out of loyalty, but to understand their weaknesses, to exploit them when the time came.

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To be continued............

So, many of you are right, about Flower being Rudra's sister. I hope you all are enjoying the continuation of flashback.

I am double updating because I already wrote this chapter and previous chapter.

But for me to write next chapter fastly, you all have to motivate me by crossing 100 votes and 20 comments on this chapter and the upcoming chapter.