Inside the hotel room, the atmosphere had shifted completely from what Akshat and Alexander had anticipated moments before. Harsh was awake, shirtless and sitting casually on the edge of the bed, his arm wrapped possessively around the mysterious woman they had seen enter earlier. He looked at Manya with an expression that was almost triumphant, as if he had been expecting her arrival all along. The dim lighting of the room cast shadows that danced across his muscular torso, highlighting the satisfied smirk that played on his lips.
"Where is Vanya? Where did you keep her, you monster?" Manya's voice trembled with barely contained rage, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The pistol she had brought was tucked into her jacket, but her fingers twitched near it, ready to draw at a moment's notice. Her eyes darted between Harsh and the woman beside him, trying to understand their relationship.
Harsh chuckled, a low, mocking sound that made the woman in his arms stir slightly. "Always so dramatic, Manya. Always rushing in without thinking." He tightened his grip on the woman, who nuzzled against his chest as if seeking comfort. "Vanya is safe. For now."
Three years ago, Manya and Vanya had been inseparable—best friends who shared everything, including their higher secondary school classes with Akshat. She remembered clearly the day Akshat had awkwardly proposed to both of them, asking if either would consider being his girlfriend. They had both politely declined, laughing about it later as one of those silly high school memories, though Manya had secretly been flattered by his attention.
Then Harsh had entered Vanya's life. Charming, wealthy, and attentive—at first. Manya had never liked him, sensing something dark beneath his polished exterior. Her instincts had proven correct when Harsh revealed his true nature, manipulating Vanya until he managed to take her out of town, making her disappear without a trace. Since that day, Manya had suspected Harsh was behind her best friend's sudden absence, following every lead, questioning everyone who might know something, always hitting dead ends.
"I can tell you," Harsh said now, his voice dripping with condescension. "I can tell you exactly where Vanya is... if you kneel down and make me happy, Manya."
The fury that had been simmering inside Manya boiled over. In one fluid motion, she drew her pistol and aimed it directly at Harsh's head. "Tell me now or I swear I'll kill you."
The woman in Harsh's arms flinched but didn't move away. Instead, she watched Manya with an unnerving calm, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
Harsh laughed again, seemingly unconcerned by the weapon pointed at him. "Go ahead. Pull the trigger. But if you kill me, Vanya will be missing forever. Only I know where she is, and if I die, that information dies with me." He leaned back against the headboard, completely relaxed. "Your choice, Manya. Your pride or your friend's life."
Manya's hand wavered slightly. The thought of never finding Vanya, of leaving her friend lost somewhere because of a moment of anger, was unbearable. Grief warred with rage in her expression as she slowly lowered the pistol, the weight of it suddenly feeling impossibly heavy in her hand.
"Good girl," Harsh murmured, a predatory glint in his eyes. "I knew you'd see reason. Now, where were we?"
As Manya stood there, defeated, her mind replayed the image she had glimpsed just moments before entering the hotel—Akshat and Alexander disappearing into the night. The brief sighting had given her a flicker of hope that perhaps help was nearby, but now that hope seemed distant and futile. She had always regretted not accepting Akshat's proposal back in school, wondering how different things might have been if she had taken a chance on the quiet boy who had grown into such a capable man.
With trembling hands, Manya began removing her jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Then her shirt followed, each movement feeling like a betrayal of herself. She would do whatever it took to get information about Vanya, no matter how disgusting or degrading Harsh's demands might be. As her fingers moved to the button of her jeans, her mind screamed in protest.
No, not my first time with a bastard like him... If i have to sleep today with a man, I will choose Akshat.
Harsh watched with satisfaction, his arm still around the mysterious woman who remained impassive throughout the entire exchange. The price of Vanya's location was about to be paid, and Manya could only pray that it would be worth it, even as a part of her died inside with each piece of clothing she removed.
With each piece of clothing that fell to the floor, Manya felt another fragment of her dignity shatter. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows dancing mockingly on the walls as Harsh watched with that predatory satisfaction that made her skin crawl. His arm remained wrapped around the mysterious woman, who observed the scene with an unnerving detachment, as if this were merely entertainment.
"That's it," Harsh murmured, his voice thick with desire and power. "Just a little more, and I might tell you something about dear Vanya."
Manya's fingers trembled as they moved to the button of her jeans. Her mind screamed in protest, even as her body obeyed out of desperation. "No, not my first time with a bastard." The thought brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to give Harsh the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Just as her fingers brushed against the zipper of her jeans, the world exploded.
The door didn't just open—it imploded inward, splinters of wood flying across the room like shrapnel.
Alexander stood in the doorway, his shoulder still pressed forward from the momentum of breaking through the solid wood. But he immediately stepped aside, making way for the figure that moved past him with deadly purpose, The Aether.
End of ch RD 3
To be continue...
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