"Money is love...but love isn't money."
It was cold. Cold outside, cold inside—like the world had gone numb with me.
I walked slowly along the mud road, fog curling around my feet like ghostly hands. The settlement looked like something pulled straight out of a bleak film. Half-burnt mud stoves still smoldered. Piles of hay lay scattered in the damp. A few drunk men slept on squeaking cots, oblivious to the world.
And tied to a pole was a young girl—broken, exhausted, barely conscious.
But it was not Meera.
The girl's eyes flicked toward me. Empty eyes. Eyes that had stopped fighting long before dawn. Her body trembled violently; whatever she had endured last night had taken more from her than she had to give.
I knelt and lifted her chin gently. She was so weak she could barely hold her head up. I offered her water, letting it drip slowly down her throat. She swallowed with difficulty.
"Sahab ji…" her voice was a ghost, barely there, "Will you hurt me too?"
The words stabbed deeper than any blade. I let out a dry, bitter chuckle—not from humor, but from the absurd cruelty of this place. I patted her head softly. She closed her eyes.
Leaving her there felt like a sin, but freeing her would put her right back into another nightmare. I had to find Meera first.
I stepped inside the shabby hut. Empty. No Meera. No kidnapper. Only silence heavy enough to choke.
When I stepped back out, Anthony was standing there, blocking my way.
"Where is Meera?" I shouted, my voice cracking from cold and fury.
He simply motioned me closer with a smirk.
"Where is Meera?" I repeated, quieter now, exhausted.
Anthony laughed—a slow, cruel sound.
"I suspected you cared for her. Looks like I was right."
My fists tightened. "Where. Is. Meera?"
"She's fine," he said calmly. "I didn't touch her. I couldn't. She isn't mine… yet."
A shiver slid down my spine.
Anthony leaned in until his breath brushed my ear.
"Sarla traded her to me. In exchange for my cooperation."
I punched him hard in the gut. He staggered back, still smiling.
"Go ahead," he wheezed. "Hit me. I know exactly how you feel. I burned with the same rage when Sarla snatched her from me. That fire hasn't stopped since."
He straightened up, brushing dust off his shirt.
"But things are different now," he said. "Now I have everything. Power. Influence. And Meera."
"Don't you dare say her name," I growled.
Anthony laughed.
"You want her. She wants you. She spent the whole night restless, calling your name under her breath. Your devotion is almost poetic."
I dropped to my knees, unable to hold myself upright. "Please," I whispered, "let her go."
He rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Fine. You can have her."
Relief hit me—
"But only after I decide what to do with her. After I've taken what's owed to me."
My blood boiled. I lunged at him, but this time he was ready. He slammed me onto the ground.
"Calm down," he said lightly. "Your turn will come."
He stomped on my head. Pain exploded across my skull.
My vision blurred. Sounds stretched and faded. The sky above me swirled into darkness.
Then nothing.
My head was still spinning. A dull throb pulsed behind my eyes as I forced them open. Darkness greeted me—thick, suffocating, almost alive. A cold, insidious dread crawled across my skin. For a moment, I wondered if I had woken up in hell.
Then I saw the face.
A dead body lay beside me, eyes wide open, staring straight into mine.
I jerked back, breath catching in my throat. The room reeked of chemicals and decay. A morgue—or something close. A place where the living weren't supposed to wake up.
I pushed myself up, but my hand slipped on the wet floor. I staggered, trying not to look at the bodies lined around me. I found a door ahead—a dull sliver of hope. To my surprise, it wasn't locked.
Outside, the air was slightly warmer. The sun hadn't risen fully, but sweat trickled down my temple anyway. My nerves were burning.
A shovel leaned against a wall. I picked it up—not as a weapon, but as a promise.
I moved toward the nearest hut. Empty. Silent. Not a soul.
"Suraj."
The voice cut through the stillness like a blade. I froze.
"Look above."
I lifted my gaze. My breath stopped.
Anthony stood on the roof of a building, Meera in his grip—frail, frightened, but alive.
Her eyes met mine, wide with desperation.
I tried to run, but a wall of men blocked my way, armed with sticks, circling me like wolves.
Anthony's voice boomed across the settlement.
"I know how much you love Meera. But you won't get her so easily. I want you to feel what I felt. I want you to bleed the way I bled."
One man swung first. The stick cracked across my shoulder. Pain shot down my spine and I hit the ground. Then the rest joined in—dozens of blows raining down like a storm.
I curled into myself, fists over my head, absorbing the impact, the rage, the humiliation.
Above me, Meera's voice broke through the chaos—weak but steady.
"Suraj… I… love you. I'll be waiting for you. Don't spare any of them."
Her words sliced through me, igniting something deep inside—something hotter than pain, sharper than fear.
Fire.
Meera's words burned through me like wildfire.
I felt something shift—slowly at first, then all at once.
The pain dulled.
The fear vanished.
A cold, focused rage took its place.
A stick came down on my back again, but this time I didn't curl up.
I caught it.
My fingers wrapped around the wooden shaft like iron. The man holding it tried to pull back, but he might as well have been pulling against a mountain.
I rose.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Their blows kept coming, but they no longer mattered. Every strike only fed the fire now roaring inside my chest.
The man closest to me swung again.
I blocked it with the stick I had taken from him and slammed the other end into his ribs. He collapsed, gasping.
Another man charged. I twisted, letting his momentum carry him forward, then drove my elbow into his jaw. He dropped like a stone.
The rest hesitated.
They weren't expecting a corpse to stand up and fight.
I picked up the fallen shovel.
"Come," I said quietly.
Not a shout. Not a threat.
A promise.
They rushed me again, but now I moved like something reborn. Every strike was precise, burning with purpose. A swing to the knee. A shove to the throat. A crack across the wrist. They fell one by one, groaning, clutching broken pride and bruised bones.
Above, Anthony watched.
His smug smile flickered.
Meera clutched his arm, struggling against his grip.
I stepped over a man writhing on the ground and looked up at Anthony.
"You wanted me to bleed?" I shouted.
I wiped the blood off my lip with my thumb.
"Now it's your turn."
Anthony stiffened. His laughter died in his throat.
"Let her go," I growled, raising the shovel.
The settlement fell silent.
Only my breath and Meera's muffled cries echoed through the fog.
"Anthony!" I shouted again. "Let. Her. Go."
Anthony backed up a step.
He finally understood—
The man he had thrown into the morgue wasn't the one who climbed out.
Something far more dangerous had.
I sprinted toward the building, but this time the world answered back with gunfire.
Bullets cracked through the air, tearing into the mud, the walls, the metal around me. I dove behind an abandoned car just as the windshield shattered into a glittering spray.
Shooters were stationed at every window, rifles locked, eyes fixed on my slightest movement.
My breath came out in white bursts.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I cursed myself for not being armed—but what would it matter?
There were no guns. No backup. No time.
The car rattled violently as bullets punched through the other side, sending metal fragments flying. I crouched lower. My blood pounded in my ears.
That's when I saw it.
A slingshot—old, weathered, half-buried under dirt and scrap.
Hope. Or madness. Maybe both.
I rolled out, snatched it, and searched desperately for ammunition. My fingers closed around a jagged pebble.
It was laughable, but it was all I had.
I pulled back the band, aimed at the nearest shooter, and released.
And then pain exploded.
A bullet tore through my arm, spinning me backward.
I hit the ground hard. The slingshot slipped from my grasp.
For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the sky, smiling weakly at the absurdity of it all. Fighting guns with stones. What a joke.
I had never prayed much. Maybe because I lived believing I didn't need anyone. Maybe because the idea of God felt… distant.
But now—with Meera's life hanging by a thread—I prayed.
To every god I had ever heard of.
To the universe.
To anyone listening.
I didn't pray for myself.
I prayed for her.
Meera—who had done nothing but survive a world that tried to crush her.
My mother used to say God helps those with pure hearts.
If that's true, then Meera should be untouchable.
Cathy's face flashed before my eyes. Then Captain's.
The people I couldn't save.
The people I lost.
Was it my turn now?
Is this how my story ends?
A quiet voice inside whispered: Maybe.
But something louder roared back: NO.
My eyes snapped open.
Something ignited inside my chest—hot, relentless, unstoppable.
A storm brewing not in the sky, but in me.
A storm no bullet could kill.
I pushed myself up, blood leaking down my arm.
My legs trembled, but they held.
My heart thrashed, but it didn't stop.
I took a breath, clenched my jaw—
And ran.
Straight through the hail of bullets.
Straight toward Meera.
Straight into the fate waiting for me.
Blood splattered. Bullets sliced past. But I didn't slow down.
Not today.
Not for anyone.
Not even for God.
I stormed up the staircase, ignoring the sting in my bleeding legs.
Footsteps thundered above—armed men rushing toward me. They had bullets. They had numbers.
But I had something stronger.
Love.
One of them lunged forward. I threw myself at him with everything I had left. We crashed into the wall. He tried to aim, but I grabbed the barrel of his gun and forced it against his chest. A single shot rang out.
Silence followed.
I snatched the weapon and sprinted upward. Gunfire erupted behind me, tearing through walls and shadows. Flames licked the edges of the corridor as stray shots hit fuel cans and lanterns. Smoke swallowed the air.
I dropped to the floor, dragging myself through the chaos. My legs barely responded—my hands took over, pulling me forward inch by inch.
That's when a heavy boot slammed down on my fingers.
Pain shot through me as I looked up with blurred, blood-filled eyes.
Anthony.
Meera sat tied to a chair behind him—bruised, weak, barely conscious.
And beneath the chair…
A ticking bomb.
Anthony smirked.
"Well… looks like Meera won't be mine in this lifetime either," he said calmly.
"You've endured more pain today than I have in years. Congratulations. She's all yours."
His smile turned hollow.
"Enjoy your moment with her… while it lasts."
He stepped over me and vanished into the smoke.
I dragged myself toward Meera. Her face was bruised. Her breathing shallow. The sight tore me apart.
I pulled the cloth from her mouth.
She shook her head frantically. "Run, Suraj! Go! Please—save yourself!"
I covered her mouth gently with mine, tears falling from both our eyes.
She pushed me back.
"Go away! Listen to me—you have to live. For us. For justice. For everyone those monsters hurt."
I held her tighter.
"I can't. Not without you. I'm not living in a world where you're gone. I can save you—I can try—"
"NO!" she shouted, slamming her forehead into mine, stopping my hands before they touched the bomb.
"It's wired to explode no matter what. This isn't a movie. There are no miracle endings here."
Her eyes softened.
"Live. Let my death mean something. Don't let it be wasted."
My throat closed.
Her face held no fear—only love and pride.
"Come closer," she whispered.
I crawled to her. She kissed me softly, a breath, a promise, a goodbye.
When she pulled away, she pushed me with all her remaining strength.
"Go. Stay alive, Suraj… stay happy. That's all I want."
I smiled through the tears.
"My name is Harsh. Harsh Bhardwaj."
Meera's lips trembled into a smile.
"I love you no matter what name you wear. You will always be my Suraj. You brought light into my darkest life."
She glanced down at the bomb.
"But now… it's time for night. The night before death."
I stared at her one last time—burning her face into my soul.
Then I gathered every drop of strength left in me and ran toward the window.
I threw myself through it just as the building erupted behind me.
Flames swallowed the sky.
Debris rained everywhere.
I crashed into the trees below, the world spinning, my heart breaking.
But I was alive.
Just as she asked.
I tumbled down the steep hill and crashed into a pool of mud. For a moment, I just lay there… willing it to swallow me, to end everything.
But Meera's voice rose through the darkness of my mind.
Live. For me. For justice.
I pushed myself up, shaking mud from my face. Each breath cut my lungs, but I moved. Crawled. Stood. One step at a time.
Through the trees, I saw an opening—an old clearing with cars parked crookedly. And there… loading a bag of cash into the backseat…
Anthony.
My vision blurred with fury.
"ANTHONY!"
He jerked, startled, then frantically searched for a weapon—only to realize his gun had been left inside the burning building. His eyes widened.
He dove into the driver's seat.
The engine roared.
I ran and leaped, landing on the hood with a thud. Anthony hit the accelerator. The car surged forward, weaving violently, trying to throw me off.
I clung to the roof, reached through the half-broken window, and grabbed his hair. He cursed and swung blindly, trying to hit me. The car swerved, spinning out of control.
Then—
A sickening crash as it slammed into a roadside pole.
Metal shrieked.
The world spun.
I rolled across the dirt, dust rising around me. My body screamed in protest.
Anthony staggered out of the wreck, limping, breathless, terrified. He tried to run.
I didn't let him.
I lunged, tackling him to the ground. We struggled, fists flying. He managed to lock his arm around my neck, squeezing tightly, trying to choke the life out of me.
Black dots crowded my vision.
I forced a knee upward, breaking his hold. He gasped. I struck again—once, twice—until he collapsed, dazed and unable to push himself up.
He wasn't dead… but he wasn't getting up anytime soon.
I dragged him toward the overturned car, which was leaking petrol across the dirt. I tore a strip of his shirt and tied him to the frame. His head hung limply.
I found a bottle of water on the ground. I washed the dust from my face and took a sip, letting the coldness settle my trembling breath.
Then I splashed the rest onto Anthony's face.
He jerked awake, coughing. Panic seized his expression as he found himself tied down.
"P-Please," he begged, voice shaking. "Let me go. I… I didn't mean for this. Sarla pushed me—I swear! He's the real enemy. I loved Meera! You must believe me!"
I stared at him.
Then I laughed—a hollow, broken sound.
"Ask Meera for forgiveness," I said quietly. "Oh wait… you can't."
His face went pale.
I lifted the bag of money and threw it onto him, bills scattering like ashes.
"This," I said, "is what you traded her for."
He shook his head violently.
"We can talk! We can fight Sarla together! We can end him! We're brothers, you and I—"
"We're nothing."
I pulled out a single note, rolled it, and held it near the sparking engine wires. The paper caught fire instantly.
"To the one who sold his love."
Anthony's eyes widened in horror.
I dropped the burning note onto the petrol trail.
The flame caught.
It crawled along the ground like a living thing—slow, unstoppable—approaching him inch by inch.
"NO! Harsh—NO!"
His screams echoed through the trees.
I didn't look back.
I just walked.
One step.
Then another.
The fire behind me roared.
And Anthony's voice eventually faded into silence.....