WARNING: EXTREME CONTENT
This chapter contains depictions of graphic retributive violence and sexual trauma. These scenes are written to establish the antagonist/protagonist as a villainous and irredeemable character. The author does not condone, encourage, or support any of the actions depicted. The inclusion of specific communities is for the purpose of a fictional revenge plot based on the characters’ specific prejudices and is not intended to demean or target any real-world group. Read at your own risk.
The calm in Aayansh’s voice is chilling enough to suffocate the air.
Arsh’s jaw flexes, his eyes fixed on Tara. She isn’t scared… not even a little. And that unsettles him more than her fear ever would.
He knows Aayansh isn’t acting blindly. There’s always a reason. But when it comes to Tara, Arsh has no patience for plans or mind games.
Aashika’s face is unnervingly blank, her hollow gaze pinned to Hriday.
Aaryan, Rithvik, and Vidyut groan where they’d been thrown, pain pinning them to the floor.
Hriday’s eyes drop to the gun just an inch away, something unreadable stirring in their depths before he crouches, expression composed, almost a mask. He lifts the gun, not in haste, not in doubt. Just certain.
Aashika pulls Tara a step behind her and Arsh lunges forward.
But the next second breaks the tension in a way no one expects-
Because Hriday has pressed the gun to his own forehead, a thin, creepy smile forming on his lips.
“I’ve lived long enough.” His gaze flicks to Aashika, cruel pride glinting in his eyes. “Long enough to still be proud of every sin I committed.”
Aashika’s eyes widen just as Hriday’s finger begins to tighten on the trigger-
That’s when the sound of slow, unsettling footsteps echoes through the hollow silence.
Hriday’s eyes snap to the tall shadow closing in on them, broad-shouldered, cloaked entirely in black. Aayansh. There’s nothing on his face. Absolutely nothing but a chilling calm. And somehow, that’s far more terrifying than rage.
His gaze locks onto Hriday, who still has the gun pressed to his own forehead.
Another step forward.
“Shoot.”
Hriday’s aged muscles tighten, fear and insult colliding in his rigid stance.
And then- he swings the gun toward Aayansh, barking. “Stop there.”
Aayansh doesn’t even blink. Completely unfazed, another step forward, his death-cold stare boring into Hriday’s. The echo of his approaching footfalls ripples through the mirrored walls.
Tara, fearless until now, her throat goes dry at the sight of Aayansh at gunpoint.
Witnessing all this, Arsh grips Tara’s hand, his voice low and urgent. “Princess, you need to get out of here.” His hold tightens, eyes sharp, pulling Tara toward safety.
“I won’t go without him,” She hisses, her restless gaze never leaving Aayansh as tears burn in her eyes.
Offended, Hriday slowly pushes his fingers toward the trigger, warning Aayansh. “You think you’re still playing?”
Aayansh doesn’t react.
Another step brings him closer.
That’s when Hriday’s patience snaps and he pulls the trigger.
Three gunshots race straight toward Aayansh-
In that exact microsecond, Aayansh inclines his head. The bullets rip past his ear, tearing through the space where his skull had been.
Tara’s breath hitches.
Aayansh doesn’t break stride, his gaze never faltering.
And before the smoke even fades—panicking—Hriday whirls toward Aashika to fire-
… only for his wrist to be twisted, aged bones slipping, snapping under Aayansh’s grip as he writhes in unbearable pain, the bone yielding like dry kindling.
Aashika stands frozen, eyes pinned to the destruction unfolding before her.
Aayansh doesn’t disarm Hriday, instead, he crushes his fingers deeper into the jagged edges of the cold metal until they break and bleed.
Trying to pull free, Hriday howls in pain, the sound echoing off like a living nightmare.
A small, sadistic smile touches Aashika’s lips. She steps closer. “Aren’t you tired of playing coward?”
Aaryan, Rithvik and Vidyut tremble, trying to crawl back across the floor through their own blood as they witness Hriday’s condition. None of them dares to breathe a word.
Aashika takes another step, her eyes never leaving Hriday, savoring his agony. “You know, Aayansh… Mom was screaming like this too.” She glances at Aaryan and the others. “But none of them showed her an ounce of mercy.”
Hriday’s tear-blurred vision shifts to her as another guttural howl rips from his throat.
“They all tortured her until she… she couldn’t take it anymore.”
Aayansh’s gaze remains fixed on Hriday, cold and unblinking. He isn’t reacting to Aashika's words with rage, he is absorbing them.
As he isn’t a grown-up man tonight.
He’s that same eight-year-old monster who held back a lifetime of carnage, after his mother, the only soul who ever tried to keep him human, was gone.
And now… the monster’s finally home.
For the first time in years, Aashika’s voice almost breaks. “This man even ordered his men to rap—”
Before she can even finish, a sickening crack echoes through the room. Hriday’s mouth hangs open, a guttural, choked sound dying in his throat. His entire nervous system paralyzed as his arm is violently wrenched from its socket.
“Shhhh.”
Then comes Aayansh’s voice, silencing Aashika, his eyes never moving from Hriday as he listens to his screams of pain and suffering echoing back.
Aashika’s gaze lingers on Aayansh. She falls silent, knowing the time for grieving is long over. She might be here for revenge, but what Aayansh is delivering is far worse. Justice.
Because men like him don’t mourn.
… they make others mourn for their sins.
“Aaaghhh… le–leave my— pleas… aaahh” Hriday never gets to finish begging.
Aayansh wrenches Hriday’s neck just enough to force him to meet his eyes. Even Hriday’s soul shudders when their gazes lock. There’s no rage in Aayansh’s eyes, but something darker, demonic.
Aashika takes a step back, somewhere sensing what’s about to come, her fists clenching.
“You do remember her last words,” Aayansh whispers darkly, staring straight into Hriday’s sinister, dying gaze.
Hriday’s mind, numb with agony, struggles to process Aayansh’s words as he remains trapped in his own suffering.
Then those words echo in his head, relentless, inescapable-
“Count yourself l- lucky, my son isn’t here. Otherwise he would have torn you apart.”
Aaina’s faded voice.
Whispering all over again-
Once.
Twice.
It starts haunting him, as if her soul itself is warning him for one last time.
Save yourself if you can.
But—It’s too late.
No one gets to run when their sins come calling.
“She was indeed innocent.” Aayansh adds, then pauses, watching Hriday’s gaze tremble.
And his lips curl, not a smile, just something resembling how sadistic he is. And he can be.
“Because I’m not tearing you apart.”
With that, before anyone can even blink, Aayansh’s shoulder muscles bunch as he rips off Hriday’s right arm from his body. A wet snap of tendons and hard tissues recoiling like snapped cables, popping out from the raw ruin of Hriday’s shoulder in a sickening staccato.
Blood, along with the remnants of torn flesh splash across the floor, staining the mirrors. Hriday doesn’t even manage a scream, his body jerks violently, Aayansh doesn’t even blink, his breathing remains as steady as the silence after a kill.
Aashika yanks her gaze away. Blood doesn’t faze her, usually, but this… this is maybe too much.
A wave of nausea surges through Tara. Instinctively, her hands clamp over her mouth, choking back the scream she can’t let out, her eyes wide with horror.
Arsh turns Tara toward him right away, pressing her face into his chest, not letting her witness any of this. His own knuckles white, expressions hard as he watches.
Here, without even looking at it, Aayansh flings Hriday’s torn-off arm aside, as if it was nothing but discarded scrap of meat.
And even as Hriday’s body convulses uncontrollably, Aayansh’s grip doesn’t loosen.
Not once does Hriday plead for mercy. Perhaps some pride still lingers… or perhaps he’s realized that tonight, mercy itself has knelt before the gates of hell.
Slowly, Aayansh yanks Hriday’s face upward, forcing his blurred eyes to meet his own reflection in the blood-streaked mirrors. His torn arm lies discarded on the floor, every muscle shuddering, his body jerking like an animal being slaughtered.
The Godfather.
The man who had poisoned bloodlines, even his own, to feed his insatiable greed, is now nothing more than a broken carcass of flesh and bone. Still breathing. His reflection stares back at him… a monstrous reminder of the sins that never faded.
Somewhere… the ghost of his own daughter whispers in his mind.
Then-
Hriday’s lips twist into a grotesque smile as he stares at his own blood-soaked reflection.
“De… death is just… inevitable,” he wheezes, a bubble of blood bursting on his lips as his smile widens.
“And I’m—I’m embracing it from my own bl-blood. Ironic.”
His words carry no remorse, as if he still refuses to give up.
“I never said you’d get death.”
Aayansh’s chilling whisper slithers into his ears.
Slowly, Hriday’s gaze drags upward, meeting Aayansh’s through the mirror as he leans in slightly, letting Hriday’s blood streak across his chin.
“Izzat utaarne ka boht shauk hai na?”
Hriday’s smile dies with these words.
For a few seconds, his numb mind collapses into darkness.
That moment when he ordered his men to strip Aaina of her dignity, those filthy words, her begging, her tears, her helplessness, her blood… everything surges back into his mind. Every. Single. Thing.
Aayansh watches Hriday drown in his own memories, a cruel satisfaction shadowing his face.
The next moment—
He slams Hriday into the very mirror that had been reflecting his blood-slicked form.
That mirror explodes into a thousand shards, tearing through Hriday’s flesh, he thrashes, some shards slice into Aayansh’s own skin, his chest, face, drawing blood, yet he stays still, as if the demon inside him had long ago devoured his capacity to feel anything at all.
More blood. More pain. More satisfaction.
While Hriday’s thrown amid the glass shards, Aayansh’s eyes catch another reflection in the mirrored wall-Aaryan, Rithvik, and Vidyut.
Rooted to their spots. Numb with terror.
Slowly, Aayansh’s head tilts toward them.
All three men shiver under his gaze.
Yet none of them move an inch.
Whimpers slip past their mouths, raw and helpless.
What they feel isn’t just fear, it’s as if their own heartbeats are trying to claw their way out of their ribs.
Rithvik, who had already surrendered himself to death… even his throat turns to stone at the sight of Aayansh.
Aayansh remains unnervingly still, his tilted head watching them as if time itself has dared to not move, Hriday’s blood still trickles down past his jaw. His face is expressionless.
He shuts his eyes for a moment, stretching out a small crack on his neck.
A flicker of relief washes over Aaryan.
Aayansh is calm. He might leave them alive. After all, he is Aayansh’s father.
Summoning the last shred of courage left, he crawls toward Aayansh with a mix of fear and pitiful hope.
Finally, he clutches his foot, “Aayansh… I’m—I’m your father… please… forgive me.”
Every word drips with fear as he begs for mercy before his own son.
Aashika’s jaw tightens, a part of her itching to interrupt and tear this man with bare hands, but she wants to see what Aayansh would do.
Without glancing down, unhurriedly, Aayansh nudges his leg just enough for Aaryan to stumble slightly across the blood-slicked floor.
His hand is still clinging to Aayansh’s foot. “I—I gave you life, son… please.”
Aayansh eases his leg, Aaryan, sensing mercy, a tiniest trace of a smile breaks through his fear.
And in the next moment, Aayansh’s boot slams straight into Aaryan’s groin with a brutal, inhuman force, enough to crush the sensitive organs beneath.
His soul feels torn from his body with a scream.
Tears streak down Aaryan’s face as his body shakes senseless, a raw, pained cry escaping him.
That’s when Aayansh’s gaze drops, then without a word, he drives his leg forward, sending Aaryan crashing into shards where Hriday lies.
Amid the thousand shards on the floor, Aaryan sees his own cowardice reflecting back, mixed with crimson… a pathetic figure clutching what defined his masculinity, now crushed and ruined.
Vidyut, who has literally peed, teeters on the brink of blacking out, while Rithvik sits paralyzed, his body numb, every nerve screaming in frozen horror.
Here, a part of Tara urges her to rush to Aayansh, to stop him before he crosses a line from which there is no return.
But the fear…. It never allows her to even take a step near his direction.
Aayansh was never someone who’d hide his cruelty, protect her from his darkness. From the very beginning, she had known him to be ruthless, even evil. She had seen it. Yet she had never grasped the full extent of his sadism, never imagined it could reach this level.
And now… this. This was something her worst nightmares hadn’t even dared to conjure.
In that moment, Aayansh’s dead eyes catch his left hand, a slightest tremor running in the muscle beneath with a violent surge of adrenaline, straining against the limits of human flesh, as if something far darker inside him is clawing for release. But besides, there’s nothing human in him.
Absolutely nothing.
His fingers twist into a fist.
And he crashes it into the mirrored wall at his side, the glass shrieks, spiderwebbing across its surface, while the sturdy wall behind buckles and fractures under the power of the strike.
And this was never out of rage.
His gaze settles on the heavy iron chain lying a few inches away, his eyes darkening.
He steps closer and crouches, lifting the chain, so heavy it clinks against the floor, he wraps its brutal weight around his bleeding fist.
That’s when a gunshot erupts.
Aayansh’s stance buckles slightly, blood pooling around his left knee.
Slowly, he turns his head toward the bleeding men littering the floor like the aftermath of a massacre.
Rithvik has shot Aayansh.
The gun he’d pulled from the floor is still quivering in his trembling hands.
Desperate, he tries to fire again-
but the gun clicks empty, and his eyes widen in sheer horror.
A small, evil smile curls on Aayansh’s lips as he watches Rithvik’s panic.
He bends his bleeding knee ever so slightly, shifting the weight, he plants it firmly on the floor again, his smile morphing into something feral.
Blood spills freely, yet Aayansh doesn’t let his steps falter. He moves toward them like a predator, tightening the chain around his fist.
Vidyut scrambles back in panic.
Rithvik stays where he is, numb.
The heavy clink of the iron chain dragging against the glass shards is the only sound heard, a rhythmic, metallic death knell.
Rithvik’s remaining breath dies the second Aayansh’s shadow falls on him.
Aayansh tilts his head, watching him in silence.
“Aayanshh… I— am-”
His iron-wrapped fist doesn’t strike, it closes around Rithvik’s throat like a vice of cold granite, hauling him upward just enough to loop the iron around his chest.
A shredded cry escapes from him as the weight grinds into his body.
One by one, Aayansh harvests them, stringing their broken bodies onto the same iron chain.
Yet, they claw back for any strength left to fight
Vidyut whimpers, his body going limp as the cold iron bites into his skin, binding him to the others.
“Leee—aaaahhh… have… have mercy!” he screams, shuddering under the weight. “Please… Aaaah-”
That’s when Aayansh glances down at him, bloodshot eyes cold and unfeeling… and Vidyut’s voice dies within his throat.
The next moment, Aayansh wrenches their bodies upright, dragging them like carcasses behind him.
Aaryan, clutching his ruined groin, tries to crawl away, but Aayansh’s boot crushes his shoulder, pinning him down as he roughly weaves the chain through their limbs, connecting his father to brother, in a knot of shivering, bleeding meat.
People ruin worlds for their people, but a son dragging his own legacy, his origin, his bloodline, bathed in crimson behind him… is ironic.
Finally, he reaches the mangled remains of Hriday.
The old man’s eyes are glazed, his single remaining hand clawing at the air, somewhere hoping that his suffering might end.
Aayansh snaps the final link of the shackle around Hriday’s neck, the weight of the iron forcing Hriday to bow his head into the blood-stained shards of his own legacy.
That night, Aaina faced these demons alone. Tonight, her son is tormenting them alone too.
The difference is, he himself is the demon dragging them into his own hell.
Aayansh rolls his shoulders, cords of muscle tightening as he forces his body to unleash every ounce of power it holds.
Then, with a heave of his broad shoulders—his black shirt stretching taut over his triceps—he starts forward.
He doesn’t carry them. He drags them.
The sound is horrific, a staccato of groans, the wet slide of skin on glass, and the relentless clink-clink-clink of the iron.
Aayansh walks with a steady, predatory stride, his wounded knee leaving a thick trail of crimson that mingles with the blood of the four men behind him.
He hauls them across the length of the mirrored hall, their bodies thumping against the floor like discarded sacks of scrap meat, until he reaches another edge of the dark.
With a final surge of strength, he swings the chain.
The four men are sent tumbling, a tangled heap of broken bones and iron, crashing into the darkness below.
Here, Aashika stands frozen. Not once does she interrupt Aayansh’s actions. She is horrified herself, yet she knows Aayansh would never snatch her right to vengeance. Tara remains in Arsh’s arms, numb with fear. Neither of them moves. Every mirror, shattered or whole, is painted with blood and torn flesh, the floor beneath them slick with it.
Aayansh stands at the edge, looking down into the void, the chain still warm from his grip and blood. He doesn’t breathe hard. He doesn’t look satisfied. He just looks… hell himself.
Those four struggle, their blurred vision snagging on every surface. This place… a mirror cage from ceiling to floor, nothing but their pitiful reflections and the suffocating dark
And they cannot hide from their own reflections, their battered bodies, pitiful gasps.
Then they realise that six or maybe seven shadows are moving around them, circling like vultures. Then the claps begin, the unmistakable, rhythmic claps of the hijras, echoing in their ears like a verdict.
As said, this isn’t revenge.
This is justice.
The most sacred community (hijras) surrounding them knows the horrors these demons once inflicted upon a woman, their gazes burn on these pathetic men. Tonight, they’re in a circle of judgment, in the Eunuch’s wrath as those sins come crawling back.
Aayansh doesn’t take his dark eyes off them. Without any haste, he pulls a cigar and a lighter from his pocket.
“They once tried to degrade a woman to feel like a man,”
He settles the cigar between his lips and flicks the lighter, the brief flame casting a sinister glow across his emotionless face.
“Now,” He takes a slow drag. “show them what real ‘degradation’ looks like.”
Aaryan, Rithvik, and Vidyut’s minds go black at Aayansh’s words, panic ripping through them, their cries sharp and impulsive. Hriday doesn’t even have the strength to beg, his torn arm still bleeding onto the floor.
As Aaryan struggles to rise, a brutal kick drives into his lower abdomen, forcing him back onto the floor, while the eunuch hovers over them.
“So proud of your masculinity, are you?” One of them slithers closer, clapping relentlessly around their tormented forms. Two of them pin Aaryan to the floor, dragging him down with inhuman force. He struggles, but his body is already broken, and resistance only earns more punishing grip.
That instant—Aaina’s helpless, desperate pleas echo in his thoughts, the way she had once looked to him for protection and the safety of a ‘husband’ who never even tried to save her. The tears of guilt and unspent helplessness gather in his eyes, blurring his own pain.
‘I could have saved her. My wife. When she fought to protect her dignity, I just… watched.’ His dying subconscious mind curses him.
His unfocused gaze drifts across the mirrored ceiling and walls, each reflection a thousand versions of himself being ripped apart.
It isn’t just terror… It is soul-breaking.
Their screams, pleas, pain, all rebound off the glass, echoing in every corner, then twisting back into them.
Aayansh casually leans against the wall, eyes shut, exhaling a slow plume of cigar smoke. The agony around him, desperate cries of his father, grandfather, uncle, and Vidyut drip into his ears like a dark, intoxicating symphony… one he has longed to hear for years. Satisfaction settles like ice along his sharp features.
And for the first time in years, he sees her again… Aaina’s smile.
He crushes the burning cigar in his palm, eyes still closed, as a slow, haunting whistle drifts past his lips, smoke curling like a dark wisp around his fingers.
Here, Hriday’s ravaged body writhes under relentless sexual-humiliation, and only now does his soul awaken to the weight of its own sins… not for himself, but for the torment he inflicted on the one he should have protected. His daughter. Somewhere, he surrenders to the truth- he deserves every shred of this.
Vidyut and Rithvik, however, feel the part of them in those sins crushing them. And then… one by one, their resistance fades…
Their so-called masculinity, bleeding in a way no one—no one—could even imagine…
The eunuch steps back, leaving them to their final gasps, their last breaths hanging in the air as they silently exits the place.
After a heartbeat, Aayansh turns toward them. Vidyut is already gone, lifeless on the floor. Rithvik clinging to the last thread of life. Hriday and Aaryan? They’re still alive, barely… shredded clothes clinging to their torn bodies, the space between their thighs is a bleeding ruin, raw and unceasing. The reminder of what they’ve survived…
Hriday’s dim, flickering gaze meets his own reflection in the ceiling mirror… what stares back is a twisted mosaic of torn, bleeding flesh, a grotesque echo of the man he once was.
Footsteps shuffle across the blood-slicked floor.
Aashika, Arsh, and Tara appear… and the sheer sight of the mangled men pins them in place with nothing but pure horror.
Especially Tara. She’s never witnessed anything so horrifying. Her stomach churns, and for the first time, it steals the ground from beneath her.
Yet, Aashika’s gaze is a furnace of hurt and rage, now locked onto Aayansh, who hasn’t even spared them a glance. The sight before reminds her of the years she spent waiting, the life she had devoted to revenge… now snatched away with a single act of cruelty.
But then—
Without breaking his gaze, Aayansh extends something toward her. Her hands move almost instinctively, catching it before her mind even has time to process.
She looks down… and sees it. A lighter.
“You have every right to end what I began.” Aayansh says, his words cold, final.
Aashika freezes, her eyes locked on Aayansh…
a silent reckoning passing between them.
Then, like a shadow closing in on its prey, she moves toward Hriday.
Aayansh just watches her… she hasn’t stepped in when he was hunting, not even once, now, he isn’t stepping back when she’s ending.
Aashika halts near Hriday, her presence suffocating, her stare piercing. Hriday’s lips moves into a hollow smile, a whisper of acceptance… he knows what she will do, and he can’t stop it. He isn’t afraid, because he’s dead in every way that matters.
The lighter sparks to life in her hand. Her smile is small, almost innocent… but in an instant, it warps into something feral, a searing hatred that could scorch the air around her.
“Boht dard hoga aapko… hona bhi chahiye,” she murmurs, voice low, almost tender. “We will never cross paths again, Nanu. Not in this life… not any other.” Her eyes linger on him a second too long, cold and unflinching, before she steps back and hurls the lighter onto him.
The flames creep along his body, consuming limb by limb. His movements grow frantic and desperate, but the fire shows no mercy. The sickening scent of charred flesh fills the air.
The fire paints Aashika’s face in trembling gold and crimson, her eyes alive, as if she’s breathing after years of suffocation. Aayansh’s shadow forms looming behind, touched by the same hellish glow, two monsters staring into the chaos they’d always starved.
But Aayansh hasn’t finished.
Not yet!
All the while, he keeps his gaze tethered to Aaryan, whose lungs are fighting for air under the weight of his stare. Because for his sin… this was barely enough.
For a fleeting moment, all is still… just the roar of the burning fire.
Aayansh’s fist and knee drips blood, his hair matted, eyes rimming with red, and face streaked with gore.
He tilts his head, agonizingly slow, the instant his gaze meets Tara’s, a cold shiver crawls up her spine, freezing her in place. Her fingers clamp onto Arsh’s arm like a lifeline.
Aayansh lifts his arm, beckoning her closer. His expression stays hauntingly still, knowing she’s horrified of him, yet she cannot look away.
Locked in each other’s stare, neither he nor she blinks. The silence between them is almost…
Tara’s instincts scream at her to stay back… far away from this man… but her feet don’t listen. It’s as if something far darker than fear is pulling her forward.
Her body edges closer, that’s when Arsh’s hand clamps down on her arm. His glare sears toward Aayansh… because no sane brother would ever want his sister standing beside the demon like him.
For a second—just a second—she almost gives in, almost lets Arsh pull her away…
Aayansh doesn’t even spare Arsh a glance, his stare locked on Tara… as if silently testing whether she’ll choose him, even like this.
But then, Tara’s gaze drifts back to Aayansh… and something inside her settles. Not fear. Not safety. But something that feels like there’s no going back from him.
“Please…” She murmurs, letting go of Arsh’s grip, and takes a trembling step toward Aayansh.
She could have been the purest soul alive, yet never untouched by his sins.
A step closer.
Another.
Seconds crawl, yet each movement feels like an eternity, Aayansh’s stare pin her as if he’s reading her soul.
Finally, she edges nearer to him.
Strangely, her body relaxes.
Almost expecting an embrace when his grip snaps around her wrist, dragging her close against his chest… right before Hriday’s burning body and Aaryan still writhing in agony.
The horror hits harder this time.
Her heart thrums at the suddenness, lips parting in a shaky, breathless whisper. “Aah… yansh—”
“Shh.” He silences her off, lips hovering at her ear. His gaze stays on Aaryan’s ruined body before dropping to hers. He kisses her earlobe.
The heat of his body burns against Tara’s bare back, the scent of blood merging with him in the tight press of their bodies.
Aayansh’s bleeding hand drifts to the most intimate curve of her body, her womb, ensuring no other’s filthy blood on him taints her skin, just his. The warmth, stickiness of his blood stains her exposed skin through the cutaway of her gown, coating her stomach, a shocking, intimate weight against her skin.
Amid the fear that grips her, an unfamiliar heat twists in her belly.
But what comes next steals her breath entirely… he has pressed the cold weight of a gun into her delicate hands.
Tears gather in Tara’s eyes, her hands trembling… not from the gun, but from him… from the way he’s making her hold it.
“Aayansh… what—what are you doing?” she murmurs, her voice fragile, as his hand encloses her shaking fingers, lifting the gun higher, his other hand still anchored against her stomach.
“We—” Aayansh’s breath ghosts against her lobe, his voice dropping to a whisper. “are ending the last stain on ‘our’ bloodline.” His gaze never strays to Aaryan… locked on Tara the entire time. Darkly Intense.
Before her lungs can fill again, Aayansh pushes her soft fingers around the trigger-
Bang!
Her eyes widen as the bullet finds its mark, burying itself between Aaryan’s eyes, the heat of Aayansh’s gaze still pinning her in place as Aaryan’s faint scream breaks the silence.
One more pull.
Bang!
The second shot slams into Aaryan’s spine, his body snapping forward under the brutal impact.
But then, Aayansh loosens his hold on her fingers… letting her pull the trigger on her own.
Two more shots tear into Aaryan’s chest.
His breath stops… permanently.
Tara stares at his body, frozen. It’s the first time in her life she’s killed someone… and her mind cannot comprehend it.
Aashika just watches, her expression blank… because there’s nothing left to feel now that it’s over.
Arsh’s jaw tightens, something bitter churning inside him... Tara chose this. And with that, he understands… His princess is no longer untouched by Aayansh’s darkness.
Blood drips from Aayansh’s chin as he stands in the wreckage of his own making. He exhales against Tara’s skin, slow and steady… like he hasn’t just buried an era.
Like he hasn’t ended his own bloodline.
The one that created him.
Knowing from now on, this legacy will carry only one name, his name.
With a firm motion, he takes the gun from her hands, flings it aside, Then, without a word, he turns her toward him.
Tara lifts her head… only for her vision to tunnel, the world narrowing into a pinprick of heat and sound.
And then she goes limp, collapsing entirely against him, her body surrendering to the dread she’s witnessed all the while.
Aayansh’s arm snags around her waist.
For a moment, silence reigns. The echoes of screams, gunfire, and the carnage around them fade into nothing.
She is small, trembling, yet completely entwined with the darkness that defines him.
Arsh and Aashika spring forward, their eyes fixed on Tara.
But their movements stop when Aayansh lifts his gaze on them, icy, unreadable.
While Aashika feels a straight attack on her pride, Arsh’s cold gaze narrows at Aayansh.
Ignoring their offended faces, Aayansh scoops Tara into his arms in one fluid motion and makes his way out.
The darkness outside Rome eases, yet the clouds weigh down. Every whisper of wind carrying the hint of rain, draping the city in a quiet, charged longing that feels almost… tender.
Tara lies back on the car seat, eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she gazes silently around, and memories of everything that just happened wash over her.
Uneasiness claws at her again. She pushes herself up abruptly and moves out of the car, the cold wind lashing across her skin.
Only for her body to lock in place the instant her gaze meets Aayansh, just ahead.
| Play Teri meri kahani - slowed & reverb |
Her fists curl, and the rain begins to fall on them, uninvited and sudden.
He closes the distance, and she staggers back, murmuring, “You… you’re heartless. You’re not human.”
Aayansh just watches her, advancing another step near when she hisses. “Don’t come near me.”
Water running down him, his black shirt soaked and blood-smeared, outlining his broad frame, hair tangled over his forehead.
“Aayansh… I said—”
Her protest dies in her throat as he comes near her.
As the rain pounds around her, Tara’s chest rises and falls with its rhythm, her fragile grip on reason keeping her from him.
For a heartbeat, all that exists between them is the relentless drum of raindrops pounding around them… and silence.
But then, before she can stop herself, her hands clutch Aayansh’s shirt, pulling him just enough—just enough—to crash her lips against his.
She nearly topples, but his arm closes around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, immovable. The downpour hammers around them, yet all she feels is the heat of him against her.
Her lids press shut, but Aayansh’s intense gaze devours her flushed face, the trembling of her thick lashes, the way her cheeks burn… without even blinking.
She’s consuming him like there’s no tomorrow, like the world is ending and they stand at the centre of it, utterly lost in each other.
She murmurs against him, breathless, “I love you so much… Do you understand?” not pulling away from the kiss, moving her mouth against his with desperate insistence.
The relentless rain washes the blood from Aayansh’s skin and clothes… but not the darkness in his eyes.
He lets her pour every ounce of passion, every trembling confession of love into the kiss, his eyes drinking her in…. yet he hasn’t moved to kiss her back… not yet.
From her face, Aayansh’s eyes drop to her body, lingering there in a way that feels sinful. Almost too sinful. Even after the storm lashes around them, his blood staining her skin never fades, clinging like marking her soul. Just barely, his mouth tilts against hers.
And at that moment, they look forbidden.
Yet, twistedly divine.
Like an angel kissing a demon who just dragged her into his hell.
Breathless, undone, Tara tries to pull back, just then Aayansh’s hand clamps around the nape of her neck, tilting it as he finally starts devouring her mouth back.
She gasps, arching against him, heart hammering, yet there’s no fight left in her… only surrender.
Her eyes flutter open, but this time… Aayansh’s eyes are closed, lost in the taste of her, consuming her, devouring her, as if nothing else exists but this moment.
And then…
Something in Aayansh Oberoi truly stirs.
Aashika, umbrella in hand, had barely left the estate when her gaze lands on them… and she freezes. In the pouring rain, they’re eating each other in the open, a sight she can’t tear her eyes from.
She takes a step back, and finds Arsh also reaching there with every sense alert.
“Stop there.” She snaps at Arsh before she even has a chance to breathe.
He halts, his cold eyes locked on her.
He cocks a brow. “What?”
She exhales, letting the words spill without hesitation. “You don’t want to see my brother and your sister eating each other out here… boldly” A curious, dangerous smile plays on her face. “Or... do you?”
His mind seizes with between disbelief and shock.
A A Y A N S H O B E R O I
Every beginning is meant to end. And every end carries a new beginning. What I closed today is something I abandoned long ago. Something born from my mother. Women are not always the ones to be shielded from wars, sometimes, they’re the war itself. Just as she was.
From the day I saw her lifeless form to now—she breathes within me—inevitably.
So pure that even in her last words to me, she forbade me from chasing the ones who broke her world.
Innocent.
Too innocent.
I never intended to chase anyone.
Not then, not now.
Not the younger me who killed his own mentor, simply as my mother’s tears had fallen because of him.
But I certainly made them chase me. He (Hriday) starved for power his whole life, so I gathered it beneath my feet.
It took years.
Endless patience.
Every second was worth ensuring she received what she deserved. Justice.
Trembling people, bowed heads, blood and tears of others… I’ve always fed on it as easily as breathing.
But the blood on me now does more than just satisfy, it feeds my demons.
That’s how wars end.
And gods fall.
As here, the woman birthed me is god.
And the woman in my arms, the most delicate thing I’ve ever known, now corrupted and etched into my darkness.
And this is—inescapable.
Her womb stained with my blood, this is the legacy I’ve marked for the life she carries within.
Author’s note:
Many of you must have expected extreme gore in this chapter, Aayansh mourning for his mom, remembering her while he spilled blood… but that would have happened if he was hungry for revenge (like Aashika) … and he could have taken revenge long ago by killing all of them brutally! But what wanted and gave his mother is justice… in the most brutal way! This chapter wasn’t physical gore (I’ve shown that shit many times in the book, I didn’t want to repeat it), but here it was psychological gore.
Now some of you will be like why Aayansh drags Tara in his cruelty… it’s simple… because he isn’t a protector, he’s a corruptor.
You will get Aayansh Aashika’s bond in the remaining chapters! Because they deserve proper sibling space.
And please forget to comment.
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