KEY SIDE CHARACTERS
🩸 Riaan Varma — Samrat’s right hand
Former assassin
Cold, calculating, loyal only to Samrat
Silent type, moves like a ghost, deadly with knives
🩸 Council Elder Vishram — Head of the Mafia Council
White hair, cruel eyes, always wearing black gloves
Orchestrated the deaths of both families
Wants Aarya and Samrat dead or controlled
🩸 Amara Rathore — Samrat’s younger sister (thought dead)
Secretly alive, imprisoned by the council
Her survival is the key to unraveling the full conspiracy
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...****************...
...Midnight....
...****************...
The estate was silent, wrapped in shadows.
Aarya slipped barefoot across the marble, silk gown brushing the floor, heart hammering like a war drum.
Her fingers trembled as they worked the lock on the window.
“Almost… almost there…”
Behind her, the door creaked.
“Leaving so soon, princess?”
Her blood turned ice.
Samrat leaned against the doorframe, shirt unbuttoned, whiskey glass in hand, a lazy smirk on his lips.
“You’re not as quiet as you think.”
Aarya spun, grabbing the nearest object — a crystal lamp — and hurled it at his head.
He ducked smoothly, laughing.
“God, you’re perfect.”
“Go to hell!” she spat.
In two steps, he crossed the room, slamming her back against the wall.
His breath was hot on her skin, his hands caging her in.
“You’re not leaving, Aarya.”
“Not tonight. Not ever.”
She snarled, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t move.
“You think you can trap me here?”
“You think you can own me?”
Samrat’s eyes darkened, his grin sharp as a blade.
“Oh, darling…”
“I don’t want to own you.”
“I want to ruin you."
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...****************...
... DOWNSTAIRS — THE COUNCIL CALL...
...****************...
In the study, Riaan stood quietly, phone to his ear.
“Yes, elder.”
Vishram’s voice crackled cold through the line.
“Keep them apart. If they unite, we lose everything.”
Riaan’s jaw clenched.
“Understood.”
But as he turned, his eyes flicked upward —
and for a heartbeat, something flickered there.
Doubt.
Guilt.
Or maybe… defiance?
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...****************...
... BACK UPSTAIRS...
...****************...
Aarya’s chest heaved as Samrat leaned closer, their faces inches apart.
“You hate me,” he murmured.
“You should hate me.”
His fingers brushed her jaw, slow, possessive.
“But tell me, princess — why do you shake when I touch you?”
Aarya slapped his hand away, fury flashing in her eyes.
“Because you make me sick.”
Samrat laughed softly.
“Liar.”
Before she could answer, he kissed her —
hard, brutal, tasting of whiskey and fire.
For a heartbeat, she froze.
Then —
she bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood.
Samrat pulled back, eyes blazing, blood dripping down his chin.
He licked it slowly, smiling darkly.
“God, I adore you.”
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...☠ DISCLAIMER ☠...
...****************...
...This is a work of fiction....
...It’s dark. It’s violent. It’s cruel....
...It will break you, twist you, and leave you raw....
...Fall for the characters?...
...That’s your mistake....
...They don’t care....
...They will burn you, betray you, destroy you —...
...and they’re not even real....
...The blood, the heartbreak, the madness?...
...It’s all just ink and words....
...But it will scar if you let it....
...If you can’t handle brutality, crime, or the blackest parts of the human soul —...
...walk away now....
...This story takes no prisoners....
...You’ve been warned....
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