Episode 66 — Bargains in Blood
The sun had barely cleared Kolkata's battered skyline when Raian stepped into the abandoned train yard — rusted tracks twisting like broken bones under pale morning light.
Malik was already waiting.
Surrounded by men in black suits, Malik stood beside an old freight car, his tailored coat untouched by dust or rain. His face, lined but sharp, held a smile that chilled more than steel.
"Raian," he drawled, voice soft as velvet over glass. "The prodigal son returns."
---
Raian's ribs burned with every breath; the pain anchored him, kept rage from boiling over. His hand brushed the pistol hidden under his coat — not as a threat, but a vow.
"You wanted me," Raian rasped, voice cracked from sleepless nights. "I'm here. Let her go."
Malik's dark gaze flickered, amusement dancing at the edge of cruelty. "Always so direct. That was your charm — and your weakness."
---
Beyond Malik's shoulder, the freight yard lay silent: rusted carriages, broken glass glinting like false stars. No sign of Aria.
"I kept my part," Raian bit out, breath ragged. "Where is she?"
Malik's smile widened, sharp as a scythe. "Safe — for now. But you know me, Raian: faith must be earned."
His hand lifted; one of the men stepped forward, holding out a slim black phone. Malik tapped the screen — and for a breath, Aria's face filled it. Pale, unconscious, but breathing.
"Proof of life," Malik murmured. "More than most receive."
---
Raian's chest eased, just barely — enough to speak. "And your price?"
Malik tilted his head, dark eyes gleaming. "Your loyalty. Your silence. And your hand in finishing what we began years ago."
"Which is?" Raian pressed, voice brittle as old bone.
"Burning the last of the rebels who still dare whisper your name," Malik said, quiet as prayer. "Starting with Saira."
---
Raian's breath froze. "She fought beside me. She bled for me."
"And now she's a liability," Malik countered, voice silk hiding iron. "People love symbols, Raian — you most of all should know that. And love, as always, makes fools of kings."
---
The train yard felt colder. Rusted steel and rotten wood whispered of betrayals that had rusted longer than tracks.
Raian's fingers twitched toward his hidden pistol. One shot — enough to end Malik.
But beyond Malik stood men with guns already raised. And somewhere unseen, Aria's fragile life waited — balanced on the edge of this choice.
---
Malik watched him, patient as a viper. "Bow your head, Raian," he murmured. "Seal it with blood — or watch her die before sunset."
---
Raian's breath shook, ribs screaming with each tremor. The man he had once been — the one who'd carved his way to power without flinching — whispered to strike, to kill.
But another voice, quieter, steadier, rose inside him: Aria's voice. "Because you're my patient… and because…"
Because she saw something worth saving, even in his ruins.
---
Slowly, Raian fell to one knee, dust rising around him. His hand slid from the pistol — surrender, not defeat.
"Don't touch her," he rasped. "Hurt me if you must. But leave her out of this."
Malik's eyes softened — mockery dancing just behind pity. "There it is," he murmured. "The king who bends, at last."
---
A blade was placed in Malik's palm: short, black steel, cruelly sharp.
"Your first test," Malik whispered, voice cold as rain. "Saira's location. Your men will finish her. Or your girl dies."
Raian's jaw clenched, teeth threatening to crack. His pulse thundered with horror — and hate.
---
Kill her, the old voice urged. Or lose Aria.
But another part of him whispered: There must be another way.
---
Malik leaned closer, breath ghosting Raian's ear. "Your silence bought her breath, Raian. Your betrayal will buy her life."
The words scraped across old scars in Raian's soul, deeper than any blade.
Slowly, his hand lifted toward the blade Malik offered.
---
---
Across the city, at the ruined mill, Aria woke.
Pain knifed through her ribs; breath caught sharp in her throat. For a heartbeat, darkness threatened to pull her under again — but memory cut sharper: Raian's broken voice whispering, "Don't let him steal you."
She tried to sit — every muscle screaming — and saw only emptiness. The cot beside her, where he'd kept vigil, was cold.
---
Saira crouched nearby, bandaging her own ribs. Relief flooded her bruised features as Aria stirred. "You're awake," Saira whispered, voice raw.
"Where—" Aria's breath caught. "Raian?"
"Gone," Saira rasped, bitterness curling the word. "To kneel before Malik. To trade your life for his soul."
---
Tears blurred Aria's vision, fell hot onto bloodstained cloth. "No," she whispered, voice breaking. "He wouldn't."
"He already has," Saira snapped — then softer, grief breaking through anger. "Because he loves you more than himself. And that's the cruelest truth."
---
Aria's pulse thundered, fury and dread drowning weakness. "Where?" she demanded, voice trembling but fierce. "Where did he go?"
Saira hesitated — then met Aria's gaze. "The old train yard."
Aria's breath shuddered. Every bone ached; fear chewed at her resolve. But love burned hotter.
---
"I won't let him kneel for me," she whispered, voice rough as torn silk. "Not alone."
And with trembling legs, Aria rose — bloodied, breathless, but unbroken.
---
Teaser for Episode 67:
At the train yard, Raian faces the price of betrayal — but Aria's arrival might change everything… or destroy what little hope remains.