The Monster’s Claim

💀 Samrat Veer Rathore

Underworld Title: The King of Ashes

Secret Name: “RAVEN”

Symbol: A silver raven clutching a crown

Mafia Identity: Ruthless overlord, silent manipulator, master of psychological warfare. Never seen killing, but corpses always follow.

Public Persona: Calm, distant, strategic billionaire.

True Self: Possessive, dangerously manipulative, protective only over what he calls his. Doesn’t believe in mercy. If he wants you, the world burns until he has you.

Quote:

“I don’t share. Not the throne. Not the blood. Not her.”

🥀 Aarya Saanvi Thakur

Underworld Title: The Queen of Thorns

Secret Name: “NYX” (Greek goddess of the night)

Symbol: A black rose with thorns dripping gold

Mafia Identity: Known for leaving her enemies poisoned or destroyed from the inside. Emotionally unpredictable, wildly intelligent, masks insanity under beauty and grace.

Public Persona: Elegant CEO, social icon, rumored philanthropist.

True Self: Obsessive, territorial, dangerous when emotionally triggered. Deeply distrusts love—but when she loves, it’s feral.

Quote:

“If you touch what’s mine, I won’t kill you. I’ll ruin you so you beg for death.”

|| Their Relationship Dynamic ||

This isn't just enemies-to-lovers. It’s “I’d kill for you, but I’ll also break you if you lie to me.”

Samrat is the cold, calculated psychological dominator, but Aarya knows how to slice through his control like no one else.

Aarya is unpredictable, wild and emotionally manipulative, but Samrat knows her every weak point—and protects them like they’re his own.

They are each other’s obsession—and addiction.

|| A Teaser Dialogue of Their Dark Possessive Vibe ||

Setting: After a violent confrontation. Blood on their hands. Alone in a candlelit room.

Aarya (coldly):

"You think killing for me means anything? You're still a monster, Samrat."

Samrat (stepping close, voice dark):

"I never denied being one."

(pauses, tilts her chin up)

"But I’m your monster. And I’d slit the world’s throat just to keep your name on my lips."

Aarya (chest rising, whispering):

"You want possession, not love."

Samrat (leans in):

"Love is a myth. But possession? That’s real. And make no mistake, Aarya—you're mine."

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘺 — 𝘈𝘨𝘦 𝘔𝘓 𝟥𝟢 𝘺𝘳 & 𝘍𝘓 𝟤𝟧 𝘺𝘳

The auction hall reeked of old money and fresh blood. Velvet curtains muffled the sounds of the outside world, trapping the scent of whiskey, cigars, and something darker — fear.

Samrat Veer Rathore leaned back in his chair, dark eyes fixed on the woman across the room.

Not woman —𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹.

Aarya Saanvi Thakur.

The Queen of Thorns herself.

Elegant black dress, golden heels, a cold smile that had slit more throats than any blade.

He hadn’t seen her in ten years.

Not since they’d walked away from their last deal, both with blood on their hands and the city in flames.

And yet here she was, bidding against him for a priceless artifact, as if she didn’t know he was the king now.

His fingers drummed lazily on the armrest.

“Let her win,” he murmured to his second-in-command.

“I want to see what she does with it.”

The final gavel slammed.

Aarya rose, the softest smile curling on her lips, turning straight toward him.

Not a glance — a challenge.

He stood.

Chairs scraped.

The room fell silent.

In three strides, he crossed to her.

She didn’t flinch.

“Miss Thakur,” he said smoothly, voice like a blade sheathed in velvet.

"Funny how fate works, isn’t it?”

Her lips curved.

“Samrat. I didn’t realize you still existed outside your shadow games.”

For a beat, they stood in silence, the tension between them like a drawn wire.

Then Samrat’s phone buzzed.

A message.

From his old family lawyer.

He glanced at it.

His eyes went still.

THE CONTRACT WAS ACTIVATED. THE BLOOD MARRIAGE IS VALID.

SHE WAS PROMISED TO YOU AT BIRTH.

His pulse pounded.

His gaze shot back to her — those sharp eyes, the lift of her chin, the way her fingers tapped lightly against her clutch.

She had no idea.

“Aarya,” he murmured, voice dropping, dangerous now.

“You’re mine.”

Her brow arched.

“Excuse me?”

He stepped closer, caging her against the wall, one hand resting casually near her face, the other gripping her jaw just enough to tilt it up.

“You were promised to me, Aarya. Since birth. Sealed by our parents. Activated the moment you turned twenty-five.”

Her breath hitched.

He felt it — the tiny tremor, the fury rising like a storm.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she whispered, eyes flashing.

“No,” he agreed softly.

“But you will.”

Without warning, he kissed her.

Not soft. Not tender.

A bruising, punishing kiss that tasted like blood and ruin.

Aarya’s nails dug into his chest — not pulling him closer, but ready to strike.

But when she kissed him back, teeth scraping, he knew:

This wasn’t love.

This was war.

***So, my dear readers are you ready to for this journey with our Samrat and Aarya let's start it***.....

...DISCLAIMER...

I'm sorry for deleting my work but I will make sure this one my readers enjoy,I do not own any of the photos or songs, they belong to their rightful owners. And its just a fictional story, Enjoy yourselves.

...THANK YOU...

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