The woods were endless.
Dark trees clawed at the sky like jagged silhouettes. Myra ran—barefoot, blood on her hem, thorns scratching at her calves. Her bridal red lehenga, regal and once radiant, was now soaked and stained in mud, weighed down by damp threads and the smell of danger.
Every breath burned.
Every heartbeat was a scream.
She didn't look back.
She didn't dare.
Somewhere behind her, men were chasing—shouting to each other, cutting through the trees with torches and weapons. They had dogs. Flashlights. Rage.
And orders.
Orders not to let her go.
A scream was stuck in her throat. She had no voice left. Just adrenaline. Just pain.
"Keep running," she whispered to herself, sobbing now. "Keep going, Myra. Just… running "
---
An Hour Earlier – South Edge of the Forest
The night was thick with silence, but he didn't hear it.
Ranvijay, in a fitted black shirt soaked through with rain and blood, looked like a man risen from hell itself. His face—sharpened by fury, dirt smeared along his jaw—was unreadable. His black eyes held the storm.
He had ripped through every possible location—every house, every border, every alley.
Nothing.
Then came the whisper in his comms:
"Unidentified movement. South-East. A woman. In red."
He didn't even respond.
He was already gone.
---
Myra's foot caught a hidden root.
She fell, hard.
A rock gashed her shoulder. Her skin tore against bark and stone. Her blouse strap hung loose, her breath ragged. The metallic taste of blood pooled in her mouth.
"No," she whimpered. "No, not like this—"
But the voices were close. The dogs louder. A flashlight beam hit her eyes.
"There she is!"
She whimpered, curling into herself.
And just when it felt like the end—
The devil arrived.
The ground trembled beneath roaring tires.
The sound of a black bike tore through the woods like the cry of vengeance. A shadow emerged—tall, furious, lethal.
Ranvijay.
He jumped off the bike before it stopped.
Black shirt clinging to his body, sleeves rolled, his veins screamed war. Blood on his knuckles, fire in his soul.
Gunshots cracked behind him—Shiv and guards in pursuit. But Ranvijay didn't flinch.
His eyes had found her.
And his world, for a breath, went still.
She was crouched in the mud, her lehenga stained, her body shaking, her hair stuck to her bloody face. But her eyes—
Still his.
Still home.
He dropped to his knees before her.
"Myra," he breathed, voice shredded.
She blinked. Her vision swam. The world twisted.
"I—I ran…"
His fingers reached for her cheek. "You did good. I've got you now."
She collapsed into him, sobbing.
"I was so scared—"
"Never again," he whispered, pulling her into his arms like a prayer he'd waited lifetimes to say. "No one touches what's mine."
Behind him, bullets cracked.
One grazed his bicep.
He didn't even blink.
Shiv shouted, "We've secured the area—Get her out, NOW!"
But Ranvijay wasn't done holding her.
She clutched him tighter, her voice a ghost. "You found me…"
He looked into her eyes, dark as death, and vowed like a man possessed:
"I'll always find you even if I have to travel to another world ."
---
From the Shadows – Aditya
High above, where moonlight cut through the trees, Aditya stood like a phantom.
He saw her fall into Ranvijay's arms.
He saw the way she clung to him.
He saw the fire in Ranvijay's touch.
His lips curled. Not in rage. In obsession.
"She still looks for him… even now," he whispered.
But he wasn't done.
Not even close.
"You may have her now, Ranvijay. But this game isn't over. It's only just begun."
He turned and vanished into the night—
As madness watched and waited for its second chance.
The world blurred.
Myra's fingers clutched the front of Ranvijay's black shirt as if it were her last tether to life. Her lips moved, but no words came. Her breath hitched once—
—and she went completely still.
Her eyes rolled shut.
"Myra?" Ranvijay's voice cracked, raw.
"Myra!"
He shook her gently, then caught her just as she slumped forward.
A sharp panic flared in his chest, but he didn't let it surface. Not now. Not when she needed strength.
His arms moved under her legs and shoulders. With one powerful motion, he lifted her from the mud and blood, cradling her like something sacred — like the very heart of his kingdom.
Her red lehenga, heavy with rain and torn at the edges, hung like a broken crown, and her head dropped against his chest, limp and trusting.
He stood tall — a devil cloaked in black, carrying an angel forged in storms.
And then his voice rose — a sound that cracked through the trees like lightning.
"PROTECT THE QUEEN!"
Thunderous.
Final.
Every guard snapped to attention.
Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Shiv stepped back, stunned. "Ranvijay—"
"Clear the path," Ranvijay barked. "No one touches a damn leaf near her."
He looked straight ahead, jaw tight, muscles straining with the weight of love and fury combined.
Because she was his storm.
His ruin.
His light.
And he would bring down the sky for her.
As they moved through the burning echoes of gunfire and chaos, with Myra in his arms, Ranvijay didn't feel fear.
He only felt rage—
Rage at whoever dared take her.
And a promise.
Let the world try again. Let the heavens fall. I have her now… and I'm never letting go.
-----------------
The abandoned textile mill at the outskirts of Raakhgarh stank of rust, sweat, and secrets. Shadows loomed on cracked walls. Broken machines stood like skeletons of a forgotten empire.
But tonight, it would witness something else.
The storm had arrived.
Footsteps echoed—heavy, precise, wrathful.
Ranvijay entered, all in black. His shirt was still stained with Myra's blood and dirt. The cut from the bullet grazed his shoulder, yet he looked untouched—like a man who had made a pact with the dark just to bring hell upon the one who dared touch his queen.
Aditya stood in the center of the warehouse, alone.
No guards.
No weapons in hand.
Just a twisted smile playing on his lips.
"So," Aditya drawled, voice mocking. "You brought her back."
Ranvijay didn't answer. His gaze didn't even flicker. He walked straight toward him, fire in every step.
Aditya continued, as if trying to rile him. "I told her, you know. That I saw her first. That she was always meant to be mine. And you—"
Ranvijay struck.
No words.
Just a fist.
It cracked across Aditya's jaw with a force that echoed in the metal bones of the mill.
Aditya stumbled back but laughed—blood painting his teeth. "There he is. The beast."
Ranvijay grabbed him by the collar, yanked him forward until their foreheads almost touched.
"You don't get to say her name," Ranvijay growled, his voice low and feral. "You don't get to look at her. Breathe near her. You don't get to exist in the same world as her."
"She doesn't love you," Aditya sneered. "She never will."
Ranvijay's eyes darkened. "Then I'll spend every breath earning her pain. Her scars. Her hatred. Until all of it turns into something only I'll be allowed to carry."
Aditya laughed again, eyes gleaming. "She still flinches when you touch her."
Ranvijay slammed him into a rusted pole. It groaned under the pressure.
"You drugged her. You caged her. You hunted her like prey." Each word was a growl. "You think you've won? You've only sealed your fate."
Aditya coughed, blood dripping from his mouth. "And what is that? Death?"
"No," Ranvijay whispered coldly. "Irrelevance."
He threw Aditya to the ground.
Aditya scoffed, wiping the blood from the corner of his lips as he staggered to his feet. "You act like a savior, but we're the same, Ranvijay. You're just another obsessed man wanting a woman who flinches at your touch. So don't act like you're some goddamn saint."
Ranvijay stilled.
Something shifted.
Then, in a flash, his hand shot forward—grabbing Aditya by the throat and slamming him back into the rusted pillar, voice a growl ripped from the gut of the earth:
"There's a difference. You and I not even close I fight her demons like they're mine—
You become one the moment she resists you."
Aditya struggled, his face paling as Ranvijay's grip tightened.
"You want to own her love…" Ranvijay leaned in, his breath scalding, eyes like storms.
"I want to carry her pain."
His voice was quiet now—but lethal.
"Don't ever compare your poison to my devotion again."
Then he let go, letting Aditya collapse to the ground like something that never deserved to stand beside Myra.
"You think you matter because you're obsessed. You think you love her?" He stepped forward, towering over him.
"Obsession is cowardice. Love... love is waking up every day knowing she might still hate you but choosing to stay. Love is never crossing the line you did."
Aditya's laughter died.
Ranvijay knelt slowly beside him.
"In another world, I'd let you rot in a dungeon. But not this one."
He leaned in close, voice dark, venomous.
"I want you alive... only so you know every moment of your life that you lost. That she will smile, heal, and love in a world where you're just... a footnote."
Aditya's hands trembled.
"Guards!" Ranvijay called. "Take him."
Shiv and two royal guards stormed in, dragging Aditya up.
"You won't win," Aditya spat.
Ranvijay stepped back, eyes locked with his.
"I already did."
--------------
Ranvijay stood there, breathing hard, his fist still clenched from where it had collided with Aditya's jaw. The raw ache in his knuckles was nothing compared to the rage simmering in his chest.
Behind him, his men surged forward—but the silence was shattered by a sudden crack—a smoke bomb detonating at their feet.
A thick grey cloud exploded, choking the air, blinding vision.
"Stop him!" Shiv shouted, coughing, drawing his gun.
But it was too late.
Aditya was gone.
Through the smoke and shadows, he slipped like a phantom—vanishing into the woods, into the night, leaving behind only the echo of his laughter.
Mocking. Cold. Unafraid.
Ranvijay stood still, jaw clenched, watching the direction he vanished.
Shiv ran up beside him. "We've lost him. The trackers can't see through this fog."
Ranvijay didn't blink.
"Let him run," he muttered, voice calm like the eye of a storm.
"But this time... he won't be running toward her."
He turned to his men, voice like thunder.
"Seal every exit. Check every CCTV, every border outpost, every abandoned estate within 100 miles. I don't care if it's hell—we go in."
He looked down at his bleeding hand.
Then toward the direction of Myra's room.
His voice dropped, venomous and promising.
"Because the next time I find him…"
He flexed his hand slowly.
"I'll bury the demon myself."