Mihir nudged the groaning goon leader with his boot, lips curled in a mocking smirk. **"This is your *leader*? Pathetic. I've seen scarier street dogs."
A deafening **engine roar** cut through the tension.
A black Jeep Wrangler skidded to a halt, kicking up a storm of dust. The doors flew open, and out stepped a **hulking figure**-muscles straining against a silk kurta, gold chains glinting against his thick neck.
**"I.** *He slammed a meaty palm against his chest.* **AM the leader."**
Behind him, **six armed men** fanned out, rifles glinting in the fading light.
Mihir's smirk didn't waver, but his fingers twitched-**no powers, no backup, no escape route.**
Maira's mind raced. *Guns change everything.*
The Don cracked his knuckles, his smile revealing a gold-capped canine. **"Now... who do we have here?"**
The Don's gold tooth glinted as he took a step forward, his men spreading out in a half-circle, rifles trained on Mihir and Maira. The air thickened with the scent of gun oil and sweat.
Mihir's smirk stayed plastered on his face, but his fingers twitched-just once-toward Maira's wrist. A silent question.
She met his gaze, the barest flicker of tension in her eyes. *No powers. No backup. No easy way out.*
The Don chuckled, a low, grating sound. **"Well? Cat got your tongues?"**
Mihir forced a lazy shrug. **"Just admiring the... *firepower.*"** His voice was light, but his stance shifted subtly, angling himself between Maira and the nearest gun.
Maira's fingers curled into loose fists at her sides, ready-for what, she wasn't sure.
The Don's grin widened. **"Smart move, city boy. Now, let's talk about what you *saw*."**
Kakkar Residence - Teju's Bedroom - *
The door clicked shut
**"Who-?"** Teju spun around in the dim room, her voice edged with panic-until the lights flicked on.
**"S-Sahir *sir*?"**
Her breath hitched. There he stood-no longer in his wedding sherwani, but in the simple kurta-pajama he'd stolen from the decorators' hanger. The coarse cotton hung slightly loose on his frame, the sleeves rolled up to hide his watch. He looked like a stranger, yet his eyes were achingly familiar.
She **launched herself at him**, her fists clutching the borrowed fabric as she buried her face in his chest. His arms locked around her, one hand cradling her head, the other pressing possessively against her back.
When she pulled back, her tears had left damp patches on his kurta. **"You're *here*,"** she whispered.
Sahir brushed a thumb over her cheekbone. "Yes."
**"But-"** Her voice cracked. **"Your wedding. Ruby. The-the *henna ceremony*-"**
**"Because I love you."**
The words hung between them, fragile and seismic.
Teju's lips parted. **"You... what?"**
**"I know this is inappropriate,"** Sahir murmured, his grip tightening. **"Professor and student. The timing. The chaos. But I couldn't let you marry Raj without-"**
Teju **kissed him**.
It was fierce-all teeth and trembling lips and days of suppressed longing. Sahir staggered back a step before **pinning her against the door**, his hands framing her face as he kissed her back with equal desperation.
Outside, the wedding band struck up another song.
Their lips parted, but their foreheads remained pressed together, breaths mingling in the charged silence.
**"I love you too,"** Teju whispered, the words trembling between them like a sacred vow.
Sahir's arms tightened around her, pulling her into a crushing embrace. Her fingers dug into the rough fabric of his stolen kurta as she buried her face against his shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat-wild and unsteady-against her cheek.
**"I thought I'd lost you,"** he murmured into her hair, his voice raw. **"When I heard about the wedding..."**
Teju shook her head, her tears dampening his collar. **"You came for me."**
The steel rod **cracked** against Sahir's skull with a sickening thud. He collapsed like a felled tree, blood already seeping into the fibers of the rug.
**"S-SAHIR!"** Teju's scream tore through the room as she lunged-only for Raj to **seize her wrist**, twisting it until her knees gave out.
**"Did you think I'd let you humiliate me *again*?"** Raj's breath reeked of paan as he hauled her up, his fingers digging bruises into her arms. **"The wedding's tomorrow, but make no mistake-if you even *think* of running..."** He kicked Sahir's limp form for emphasis. **"I'll hang his corpse from the wedding mandap."**
He snapped his fingers. Two men materialized in the doorway. **"Throw him in the storage room. No food, no water. Let him rot until *after* the ceremony."**
As they dragged Sahir away, his unconscious hand left a **smear of blood** on the doorframe-right where Teju's own trembling fingers reached for him.
Raj leaned in, his lips grazing her ear. **"Wear the red lehenga tomorrow. Or he dies *before* the vows."**
The lock clicked behind him.
Outside, the wedding drums began their ominous rehearsal.
Mihir's grin was all sharp edges as he took a deliberate step forward, drawing the Don's attention. **"So, *boss*,"** he drawled, rolling the word like an insult, **"how much did your boss pay you to clean up his mess?"**
The Don's gold-capped tooth glinted as he smirked. **"Smart mouth for a dead man."**
**Distraction successful.**
In one fluid motion, Mihir **snatched the pistol** from the nearest goon's belt, spun, and pressed the barrel against the Don's temple. The man froze, his smirk dissolving into shock.
**"Run,"** Mihir ordered Maira, his voice low and lethal.
She didn't hesitate.
The jungle swallowed them whole-thorny branches whipping at their arms, the shouts of the goons fading behind them. Maira's injured foot throbbed with every step, the thorn's poison seeping deeper. She stumbled-
-only for Mihir to **sweep her up into his arms** without breaking stride.
Her breath caught. His grip was firm, his breathing steady despite the sprint. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat-his dark with unreadable intensity, hers wide with surprise.
**"Don't flatter yourself,"** he muttered, though his arms tightened around her. **"You're slowing me down."**
Somewhere behind them, a gunshot **shattered** the twilight silence.
*Kashyap Mansion - Guest Wing -
Uma knocked lightly on the guest room door, her silk sari whispering against the marble floor. "Ruby, beti? Are you feeling unwell?"**
No answer.
She pushed the door open gently-and froze.
Ruby sat hunched on the bed, her body **swaddled in thick blankets** despite the evening's lingering heat. Only her face peeked out-**sallow, wrinkled**, her once-lustrous hair now thin and brittle. The vanity mirror across the room had been **covered with a shawl**.
**"J-Just a chill, Aunty ,"** Ruby rasped, pulling the blankets higher. Her voice was **scraped raw**, like stones grinding together.
Uma's fingers tightened around the doorframe. Something was **wrong**. The air smelled **sickly sweet**, like rotting marigolds. But decades of social graces had her nodding smoothly.
**"Rest, then.."** She forced a smile.
The door clicked shut.
Under the blankets, Ruby's **clawed hands** scrabbled at her sagging throat. The diamond nose pin she'd worn since her first kill **tumbled to the sheets**, its chain snapping like dried bone.
The dilapidated shelter creaked as Mihir lowered Maira onto a crumbling wooden bench. Kneeling, he gripped her ankle with surprising gentleness, turning her foot toward the fading light. The thorn had burrowed deep, the skin around it an angry red.
**"Hold still,"** he muttered.
With a sharp yank, he pulled the thorn free using his fingernails. Maira hissed, but before she could protest, Mihir **ripped a strip from his kurta sleeve** and wrapped it tightly around her foot.
**"Not antiseptic,"** he said, tying the makeshift bandage. **"But it'll stop you bleeding all over the place."**
Maira stared at him-the way his brows knit together in concentration, the uncharacteristic lack of sarcasm. Her pulse stuttered.
Mihir glanced up, catching her expression. His usual smirk returned. **"What? Never seen a man tear his clothes for you before?"**
Maira's lips curved as she watched Mihir tighten the makeshift bandage around her foot. **"No, I haven't,"** she admitted softly. **"And I'm amazed you can be caring too."**
Mihir scoffed, tossing the torn edge of his kurta aside. **"Whatever."**
But Maira wasn't done. Her voice, though quiet, carried the weight of poetry:
**"Stone-faced, sharp-tongued, a fortress high,**
**Yet kindness slips through when none are nigh.**
**The world sees ice, cold and severe,**
**I've felt the embers-warm and near."**
Mihir froze. For a heartbeat, the jungle itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then-**a snapped twig.**
The Don's men were closing in.
Mihir's mask slammed back into place. **"Save the recital, PA. We've got company."**
But as he pulled her up, his grip lingered-just a second too long.