Crimson Temptation.

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Author's POV:

Madrid’s chest heaved as the memories came flooding back — the crackle of gunfire, the smell of blood, and the forest that had swallowed his cries whole. He had left Vijay Sataya Partap Singh Rana there… alone, wounded, surrounded. His palms shook against the rough ropes that bound him to the chair.

Rajveer stood only a few feet away, motionless. The dim light from above framed him like a silhouette carved out of shadow. His eyes — black yet flickering with something deeper, something ancient — locked onto Madrid with unblinking precision.

Each step Rajveer took was deliberate, quiet, but every footfall felt like the earth itself reacting to his presence. The air grew heavier, denser, as though the walls of the hidden room could sense the storm brewing within him. Dev stood silently near the door, his gloved hands clasped, face composed but eyes wary.

Rajveer stopped beside the chair. His towering frame loomed over Madrid, the faint light outlining the sharp edges of his face. Then, without warning, he leaned closer — so close that Madrid could feel the weight of his breath.

He whispered something.

The words were low, almost inaudible, but they sliced through the silence like a blade. Whatever Rajveer said made Madrid’s eyes widen with pure horror. His body froze, then began to tremble violently. Sweat poured down his temples, his throat convulsing as he tried to speak, but the gag muffled everything except a broken whimper.

Rajveer straightened, his face unreadable. For a moment, the room was utterly still. Only the ticking of the clock on the far wall dared to break the silence.

Dev glanced at Rajveer — just once. That was all it took. No nod, no words — just the faintest shift of Rajveer’s gaze, and Dev understood. He had served long enough to recognize that look: the calm before a storm no one should witness.

He adjusted his gloves slowly, his composure unwavering, and turned toward the door.

As he stepped out, the heavy steel door clicked shut behind him, cutting off the faint light from the corridor. The hallway outside was silent, but a faint vibration — almost imperceptible — thrummed through the air. Dev didn’t look back. He knew better.

Inside that sealed room, darkness reigned. And somewhere in that darkness, a man’s silent pleas met the eyes of another who had already chosen the path of retribution.

Inside the closed room, silence pressed against the walls like a living thing. The faint hum of the overhead light buzzed softly, illuminating only fragments of Rajveer’s figure — the sharp line of his jaw, the glint in his black eyes.

He moved toward the metal table at the corner, his expression steady, unreadable. From the tray beside it, he picked up a surgical knife. The blade caught the dim light, gleaming cold and silver — precise, clinical, almost elegant.

Rajveer turned it in his hand once, testing the balance, the edge, his eyes reflecting the faint shimmer. Then he walked back toward Madrid, his movements measured, deliberate, controlled — as if each step was part of a ritual only he understood.

The air grew colder, thicker, the sound of Madrid’s restrained breathing echoing against the metal walls. Rajveer stopped in front of him, the blade poised lightly in his grip, his voice low — a whisper that felt like a verdict.

“Every action has its consequence.”

And then, Rajveer placed the surgical knife on Madrid's neck but he would not have found any pleasure in killing him directly, so Rajveer said, "I will not let you die so easily, even if I give me death for cheating the Rana family, it is less." As soon as he says this, he thrusts the surgical knife straight into his knee and Madrid screams loudly, but because of his shouting, Now even God cannot save him because he also knows that he has taken a wrong decision and decisions cannot be changed, right?

Rajveer takes out that knife and now cuts it directly on his eyes as if he wants to take out those eyes, as if he wants to carve those eyes like a jeweler.

After that Rajveer gets up and picks up a small hammer kept on the table and hits Madrid's other knee. But he strikes like a craftsman hammering on hot iron. Madrid was about to die when Rajveer said, "Now even God will not let you atone for your sins" and at the last moment he cuts his throat, causing a few drops of blood to fall on his face.

After sometimes -

The heavy steel door creaked open, and Rajveer stepped out into the dim corridor. His white gloves, now stained deep crimson, glistened faintly under the flickering light. His expression hadn’t changed — calm, composed, distant — as if the red on his hands was nothing more than dust he’d brushed aside.

Dev was waiting outside, posture straight, eyes down. He didn’t ask what had happened. He didn’t need to. Instead, in a quiet voice, he said,

“Sir, that girl… the one who greeted you this morning — she’s waiting in your chamber.”

Rajveer didn’t respond immediately. His gaze shifted briefly, unreadable, and then he began to walk — long, steady strides echoing through the corridor. Dev followed for a few steps, then stopped, watching his master disappear around the corner.

The air around the chamber was heavy with a faint scent of perfume and nervous anticipation.

Inside, Sneha waited. She sat on the edge of the couch, heart racing. Her reflection in the glass wall looked confident — bold makeup, loosened hair, the top buttons of her shirt undone just enough to draw the eye — but inside, she was trembling. Every tick of the clock made her pulse quicken.

She told herself this was her chance — to rise, to be noticed, to become something more than just another face in the corporate crowd. To stand beside him. The name itself carried a weight that thrilled and frightened her: Rajveer Vijay Pratap Singh Rana.

When the door finally opened, her breath caught.

He stood there — tall, poised, silent. The air seemed to bend around him, the energy in the room shifting instantly. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. His suit was perfect, his stance regal… but her gaze fell to his hands.

The gloves — white, once immaculate — were red.

Her smile faltered. The confidence she had painted across her face began to crack. A flicker of something primitive, instinctive, ran through her veins — fear. Her throat tightened, and before she could stop it, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

But she forced herself to recover. Maybe it was something else, she told herself. Maybe she was imagining it. He was powerful — power always came with shadows.

She rose, steadying her breath, and stepped forward. Each movement felt rehearsed yet fragile.

“Sir…” she whispered, her voice softer now.

Rajveer’s eyes found hers. They were dark — too dark — carrying the kind of calm that shouldn’t exist in a living man.

He removed the gloves slowly, one finger at a time, revealing clean, strong hands beneath. The crimson fabric fell into the bin near the door with a dull thud. His movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial.

When her trembling hand reached out and brushed against his arm, his body stiffened instantly — not in surprise, but in resistance. A flicker of something sharp crossed his face — irritation, memory, pain — before it was buried again under the cold mask he wore so well.

For a brief moment, the air between them felt like it could ignite — her longing clashing with his control, her ambition meeting his restraint.

But then he spoke, his voice low and quiet, like distant thunder.

“Don’t touch what you don’t understand.”

Sneha froze. The words weren’t loud, yet they struck harder than any shout could.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Rajveer stepped past her, toward the window, his back turned, his reflection in the glass a shadow of power and something far darker beneath it.

Sneha stood still — heart pounding, realization slowly dawning — she hadn’t entered the world of a man she wanted. She had stepped into the world of something she could never control.

Then suddenly Rajveer grabs Sneha's hand very hard, due to which black and purple colored fingerprints are formed on Sneha's hand, Sneha feels severe pain but she ignores it, then Rajveer drags her to his private bedroom and throws her on the bed.

Rajveer picks up a silk cloth kept on the nearby table and gives it to Sneha but he does not say anything. Sneha understands just like that and ties her eyes with that cloth, then it seems that Rajveer will do with her what she was thinking but little did she know that something else was waiting for her.

A/N- hey lovelies hope you enjoyed do like and comment 🧿🧿🧿.

Author loves you all.

For now b-bye.

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