The Mute Aura/Rajveer Vijay Pratap Singh Rana

Hello Every lol ppl,

My first novel, hope you enjoy🧿.

First Person's POV:

The first thing I noticed when I entered Rana Corp. Pvt. Ltd. was how everything seemed… too perfect.

Glass walls, silent elevators, people moving with precision — it didn’t feel like a company, it felt like a kingdom.

My heart was racing so fast that even the gentle smile of the security guard couldn’t calm me down.

“First day?” he asked, scanning my ID.

I nodded quickly.

He smiled again. “Good luck, ma’am. You’ll need it here.”

I didn’t understand what he meant then.

As I walked toward the main staff area, I saw a man heading in my direction. His steps were confident, his suit neatly pressed, and his eyes carried the calm of someone in control.

“Miss Sneha, right?” he asked with a polite smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Rakesh, your floor manager. You’ll be under Miss Kavya’s supervision. She’ll guide you through the system.”

Miss Kavya appeared right behind him — graceful, poised, and sharp-eyed. She shook my hand warmly, asking about my background, my goals… and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease a little.

But before I could answer her next question, a sudden voice echoed through the hallway:

> “Attention, everyone — the CEO has arrived.”

For a second, the entire floor went silent.

The laughter, the clicking of heels, even the faint hum of computers — all gone.

Then, everyone began moving, hurried but controlled, forming a perfect line leading to the elevator. Files were hidden away, chairs straightened, and not a single person dared to whisper.

I followed them, confused but copying every move.

Everyone bowed, bending slightly — almost ninety degrees — like soldiers waiting for their commander.

And then I heard it — the soft chime of the elevator.

Something about that sound made my pulse quicken.

I didn’t even know what he looked like yet, but somehow… the air around me felt heavier.

The room was suffocating. Everyone bowed, heads nearly touching the floor, a sea of submission. My knees threatened to buckle, but I forced myself to stand straight, heart hammering in my chest.

Then he appeared. Rajveer. And the air itself seemed to shiver around him. He was colossal—6’7”, broad-shouldered, muscles subtly outlined beneath the crisp black Armani suit that seemed custom-made to worship his form. A body coat hung casually over one shoulder, effortless and dangerous.

His face… it was carved with impossible precision, sharp enough to intimidate yet impossibly mesmerizing. Perfectly arched eyebrows, chiseled jawline, eyes dark as a storm-tossed night—he looked like a god of death walking among mortals. Every step he took was measured, deliberate, like he owned not just the room but the entire world.

My breath hitched. I wanted to shrink away, to blend in with the floor like everyone else, but something inside me wouldn’t let me.

I lifted my chin and said it—the words burning on my tongue before I could second-guess them:

“Good morning, Sir.”

The world seemed to pause. I could feel every pair of eyes on me, wide and judging, before they dropped back to the floor. But his eyes… they didn’t even glance my way. He didn’t stop, didn’t pause, didn’t acknowledge me. My chest tightened, a mixture of fear and… something else I couldn’t name.

His assistant, Dev, hesitated for a split second, as if weighing my audacity, then silently followed his master. The oppressive silence of the room returned.

I swallowed hard, feeling heat rush to my face. My boldness had drawn attention, yes—but not the kind I had hoped for. My pulse raced as I realized how small and powerless I truly was in his presence. And deep down, a cold knot of dread settled in my stomach.

Even as he disappeared down the corridor, I knew one thing for certain: crossing him—even with just my words—was dangerous. Yet, some foolish part of me… wanted more.

After a few minutes-

Dev appeared at the edge of my vision, his movements quiet, precise. He leaned close, whispering just enough for me to hear:

“Meet the boss in his chamber… in an hour.”

My heart raced. This was it—the chance I had been waiting for. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine. I had to make an impression, to stand out, to be seen.

I excused myself to the restroom, my mind spinning with plans. I smoothed my hair, adjusted my outfit, and transformed my appearance. The soft, understated makeup I had applied that morning now became bolder—striking eyes, a hint of sharpness to my lips. Every detail was calculated to exude confidence, authority, and a touch of mystery.

I straightened my posture, squared my shoulders, and stared at my reflection. This wasn’t about charm or beauty—it was about presence. If I wanted to capture his attention, I had to show him that I was someone who belonged in his world, someone who could meet him on equal footing.

Time crawled as I waited, every tick of the clock echoing in my ears. I felt the weight of the coming encounter pressing down on me, and yet, somewhere beneath the nerves, a flicker of determination burned. I would walk into that chamber and make him notice me—not as a subordinate, but as someone impossible to ignore.

Meanwhile on the other side of the building -

The corridors of the building were empty, eerily silent, lit only by faint strips of light that cast long, sharp shadows. Rajveer entered the hidden room first, his presence commanding even before he crossed the threshold. The door closed behind him with a muted click, sealing the space in darkness.

The room smelled faintly of damp wood and cold metal. Dust particles floated in the dim light, illuminated only by a single overhead lamp that swung slightly, casting the tied man in a wavering glow. Madrid sat in the center, bound to a heavy wooden chair, his posture slumped but tense, gagged with a strip of black cloth that muffled his panicked breaths. His eyes darted around the room, wide and desperate, sweat streaking down his face in rivulets.

Rajveer’s steps were silent, deliberate. At 6’7”, broad-shouldered, every movement precise, he cut through the shadows like a predator. His crisp black Armani suit clung perfectly to his muscular frame, and the body coat draped casually over one shoulder gave him the air of a god who had stepped into the mortal world to deliver judgment. His face—chiseled, perfectly symmetrical, and terrifyingly still—was carved in the image of death itself. His eyes, dark and unreadable, fixed on Madrid with an intensity that made the man flinch despite being tied.

Dev followed, calm and exact, gloved hands carrying a pair of white gloves that gleamed faintly in the dim light. He glanced briefly at Rajveer, then at Madrid, before speaking:

“Why did you leave him?” Dev’s voice was cold but measured, slicing through the silence. “Why did you leave Vijay Sataya Partap Singh Rana in the forest?”

Madrid’s eyes widened in terror. His throat moved, muffled by the gag, but his hands fumbled uselessly against the ropes. Panic rippled through him as memories he had buried for years surged forward—the hunt in the forest, the crackling of leaves underfoot, the sudden ambush, the fear that had gripped him.

He remembered Vijay, Rajveer’s father, struggling while the attackers closed in. And he remembered himself running, abandoning the elder boss, terrified, unable to face what was coming. He had given away the location to Rajveer’s enemies, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this—it hadn’t been planned to hurt him.

“I… I didn’t mean to! I—I just…” His eyes pleaded, terrified, realizing the inevitability of retribution. “I just told them the location! I didn’t… I didn’t know what would happen!”

Rajveer remained motionless, a shadow in the dimly lit room. Not a word left his lips, not a muscle betrayed emotion. His silence was heavier than any accusation, a living judgment that pressed down on Madrid’s chest. Every instinct told the man that Rajveer’s gaze alone could kill, even without a single word.

Dev’s gloved hands remained steady, his voice again cutting into the tension:

“You left him… while he was being attacked. Why?”

The air grew thicker. Madrid’s mind raced, trapped in the nightmare of his own making. The forest attack, the betrayal, and now the presence of the son of the man he had abandoned—it all collided into a suffocating terror. The room felt smaller, shadows deeper, and the two men before him—one silent and godlike, the other cold and accusing—were the executioners of the reckoning he had long feared but never imagined.

A/N-thats all for now prtty ppl.. Do like it and comment too plz🙏.

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