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"She's been... what?"
The words left my mouth, slow and controlled. Karan, Darsh and Rajat shuffled at the threshold of my room.
I was in the middle of getting ready for my wedding when there was a knock. If the past had taught me something, it was that my family would never knock, so it had to be an attendant or one of my men.
I was standing shirtless, in front of the mirror, with an attendant sorting the jewellery I was to wear with my sherwani, when a pale Karan opened at my permission to enter.
"We have some unsettling news, Sir," he had said, and at the tone of his voice, I slowly turned to look at him, my hands still holding my sherwani.
And then, he had said those words.
"She's been kidnapped, sir," he repeated. "We found out two minutes ago."
There was a stillness in the room as my brain registered what he said and what it meant.
'She's been kidnapped.'
She, being my wife and kidnapped being gone.
Blood roared in my veins as my eyes sharpened. I reached for the shirt draped on the back of the sofa chair and walked to them, pushing them out of the way. Wearing the shirt, I walked down the hallway.
The hallway had a guard every ten feet. As did the rest of them. There were surveillance cameras surrounding the gardens, the driveway and every part of the Palace grounds. There was no corner that I did not have my eyes on. There was no part that escaped my attention.
The staff was brought in by the Dominion Watch Corp., and were made to work as attendants because that's how much manpower I wanted around us, protecting my family at all times.
So, there was no way someone suspicious could have entered without alerting the security.
Or leave with her.
She must still be here.
I reached the hallway where her room was, with the rest of her family, and paused as I witnessed what was in front of me.
My blood turned cold.
Viraj Thakur was slumped against the wall, his fists tangled in his own hair like he could tear the panic from his skull. Jaya Aunty gripped his shoulder, her face wet and pale. Shivansh paced with a phone pressed to his ear, his voice shaking with words I couldn't hear.
Maithili stood nearby, arms wrapped around herself, her face stricken and eyes hollow.
Parth and Papa stepped out of her room just as I approached.
"Where is she?" I asked. My voice was quietโagain. But it wasn't a question. It was a warning.
Papa met my eyes and slowly shook his head. "She isn't here."
Something inside me cracked.
I shoved past them and entered her room.
The moment I crossed the threshold, I knew.
The bed was in disarray, sheets tangled and thrown. The glass on the nightstand had shattered, pieces scattered like a fight had taken place. The door handle hung uselessly, barely attached.
A struggle.
My chest burned. My skin felt too tight. My blood was molten in my veins.
I turned to Karan and stalked toward him, step by slow step. His eyes widened in fear, but he didn't move.
He knew better.
I grabbed his collar, yanking him forward so hard that buttons popped and scattered on the floor. My knuckles were white from the grip.
"You had one job." Each word was deliberate, carved out of stone.
"One job. Watch her. Keep an eye on her every step, every breath. Leave no room or opportunity to let anyone suspicious come near her. Never let your eyes off her."
Then I hit him.
Once.
Hard.
Straight across the face.
His head snapped to the side, blood spilling from his nose.
"And yet, I hear that my bride is missing." My voice cut through the air, low, level, deadly. "She's been taken... from under my roof. On the day of our fucking wedding."
Another punch. Bone met bone. Karan hit the floor with a sickening thud, blood splattering across the marble like a warning.
I didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't care.
He whimpered, hands trembling as he clutched his ruined nose, his breath ragged. I stepped over him like trash.
"Get up," I said, my voice sharp enough to slice skin.
He didn't move fast enough. I kicked him, hard, in the ribs. He gasped, a strangled, pathetic sound. I raised my foot to kick his face when Parth pulled me.
Parth grabbed me from behind. "Aryan! Stop! You'll kill him."
I tilt my head slightly. My voice came out dead cold. "Then he'll die knowing exactly what failure tastes like."
Papa's hand landed on my shoulder, firm but calm. "It hasn't been long, son. We will find her."
Oh, we will. There is no other outcome. There is no world where I don't get her back.
"Aryan," Shivansh started, "we've reviewed the entire surveillance system. There's no footage of anyone entering or leaving."
Parth stepped in. "But... the recording from five to six PM is missing. Someone wiped it clean. She had to have been taken during that window."
"She couldn't have gotten far," Papa added, his jaw clenched in anger.
I looked down at the watch on my wrist.
6:47 PM
Forty-seven minutes. That's how long it had been since someone dared to touch what belonged to me. That's how long I'd been breathing while she was gone. Every second felt like failure carved into my bones.
I reached for my phone in my pants, but... nothing. Empty pocket. My jaw clenched as I recalled my urgency to leave the room and check for myself.
I looked down at Karan, who still hadn't dared to stand.
"You lost your right to speak." I turned to Darsh instead. "Call Veer. Tell him to come to my room."
Darsh nodded, already pulling out his phone.
I straightened, shoulders back, gaze flat and unforgiving. "We shut the Haveli down. No one in, no one out. Lock the perimeter. Wake every sleeping contact. I want pressure on every corner of this city within fifteen minutes."
Rajat hesitated. "What about the policeโ?"
I cut him off with a glance. "No police. This is a family matter."
A breath. A beat of silence. My voice dropped lower. "I'll take care of the rest."
Because someone stole my wife. And in this world? That's not just war.
It's a death sentence.
When I woke up this morning, I was still hard, aching from the ghost of a dream that refused to fade.
She was under me in that dream, all trembling skin and stifled gasps, her pride wilting with every thrust. It wasn't just lust. It was a ritual. Right. Mine.
The way she writhed beneath me, resisting just enough to make it addictive, submitting just enough to make it mine.
Kanak Thakur.
My wife.
Mine to break.
Mine to worship.
Mine to destroy.
I had imagined peeling that dupatta from her shoulders and kissing every inch of her exposed skin, before sinking my teeth into her like a brand.
She would have hated me for it. And begged me not to stop.
Maybe that's why I hadn't needed the alarm. My body already knew. It was supposed to be our day.
And now.
Now she was gone.
Stolen.
My blood was boiling acid in my veins, eating at everything soft inside me. Each second she was missing wasn't just time, it was an insult. It was someone spitting in my face and daring me to do something about it.
I stormed into my room, barely noticing the carpet crunch under my shoe. My hands shook as they formed fists I didn't remember clenching.
Where the fuck was Veer?
There was a knock at the door. I spun, jaw clenched, expecting Veer's silhouette.
But instead.
Prince Daksh Tomar.
Poised. Calm. Uninvited.
And clearly too relaxed for my liking.
"Prince Daksh," I said flatly. "Guests aren't permitted in this part of the Haveli."
I turned away from him, already done with the conversation.
"I used to own this Haveli, remember?" he replied casually, voice smooth, laced with poison.
Still here.
Of course.
"This Haveli was part of the land deal," I snapped, pacing like a caged animal. "It belongs to me now."
Daksh stepped into the room, slow and deliberate, without permission. That alone made my knuckles itch.
"I just came to congratulate you on your wedding, Mr. Rathore," he said, his tone too polite.
"Shouldn't you be getting dressed?" he added, almost mockingly. "Though I suppose it's hard to celebrate when the bride's missing."
I froze mid-step. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Slowly, I turned to face him.
Daksh smiled faintly, tilting his head. "Missing... or something else?"
The way he said it. The lilt in his tone. There was something there. Not just knowledge.
Amusement.
"Get to the fucking point," I said, voice low enough to fracture stone.
He shrugged. Then, without urgency, he pulled out a slim tablet I hadn't noticed. He walked to the dresser, placed it down, and tapped the screen.
"Thought you'd like to know," he said casually, slipping his hands into his pockets like he'd just delivered the morning newspaper.
And then he walked out. Without a backwards glance. Without waiting for a reaction.
My boots crushed the carpet as I stalked toward the tablet, heart hammering in my chest like it was trying to tear free. My fingers trembled with fury as I tapped the screen.
The second the footage began, everything inside me stopped.
The acid in my veins turned to ice. And then, just as suddenly, the heat returned, boiling, searing, consuming.
She was there.
Kanak.
Clear as day.
No blindfold.
No force.
No panic.
Just her.
Walking.
Calm.
Composed.
A low chuckle broke past my lips, dry and hollow. It crawled out of my throat like something rotten. Then came another. And another.
By the time the video ended, I was laughing.
Loud.
Sharp.
Violent.
It ripped from my chest like a scream trying to disguise itself as amusement. The sound bounced off the marble, echoing through the room with the madness it carried. I slammed my palm against the dresser, laughter still bubbling from my mouth as my other hand raked through my hair.
I laughed at her.
At her audacity.
I laughed at myself.
At my delusion.
I laughed and fell to the ground, still laughing, at the circus she turned me into. The jester groom was waiting at the altar while his bride ran off.
There she was, in a red saree that clung to her body like sin. It suited her better than the purple she used to wear as a child.
I'd always known red was her colour.
The red of fire.
The red of rage.
The red of blood.
Odd choice, though, white sneakers under a saree. She must've worn them to run.
I smirked.
Of course she did.
Practical, rebellious, mine.
She could've worn a goddamn sack and I still would've ripped it off her just to remind her who she belonged to.
But this?
This wasn't a kidnapping.
This was betrayal with lipstick on.
This was a bride choosing escape over surrender.
"Oh, Princess," I murmured, the tablet falling from my hand, voice slipping into a tone that could slice skin, "you didn't get stolen."
I watched again as she walked right out of the resort gates, not even looking over her shoulder. Her chin was lifted. Her spine was straight. And the car door, held open for her by Shivansh's guard, closed behind her.
"You left," I whispered, the words like venom. "Of your own fucking will."
I picked up the tablet again, watching the looped footage play over and over, her walking, sliding into the car, disappearing into the horizon like she hadn't just carved my name out of her life with a knife.
"It was an escape," I said, tasting the word like it offended me. "Not a kidnapping."
I tilted my head, watching her frame vanish into the distance on the screen.
"You're not missing, Kanak Thakur," I whispered, eyes fixed on the screen as her image disappeared into the car.
"You're running."
A slow smile curved my lips. The kind of smile predators wore before they pounced. The kind you see just before the teeth sink in.
I set the tablet down with care, as though it were something sacred. My fingers lingered against the glass, as if I could feel the warmth of her skin through the pixels.
My bride.
My little traitor.
"You were supposed to walk toward me, not away. Kneel before me, not run. And now?"
Now, the game had changed.
Now, it was hunt or be hunted.
And I don't lose.
Not wars.
Not battles.
And never the woman who wears my name.
"The only way you are getting out of this marriage is on your deathbed, Princess."
Just then, Veer stormed in, eyes wide with something I didn't like, fear.
"Sir," he said, breath short. "You need to see something."
Behind him, Darsh stepped forward, holding out a scrap of red cloth, torn and snagged on its edges like it had been caught in something violent. "We found this stuck on barbed wire fencing. There's a hole in the perimeter."
"That's no--" Veer began.
But I cut him off coldly. "No need to lock down the Haveli, Darsh. Tell the guests the bride had to be taken to the hospital. Let them leave." I turned away, wrapping the red cloth around my wrist, tying it tight, right beneath her name.
"Sir," Veer pressed again, urgency bleeding through. "You need to see this."
I grabbed the tablet from his hands, expecting surveillance. What I saw instead made the air punch out of my lungs.
"For fuck's sake..." I muttered, voice trembling, not from fear, but from the fury starting to rise like a tide inside my chest.
"When I realised ma'am was missing," Veer said, his voice sharp and fast, "I activated the GPS feature inside DataNexus. I was prepping reinforcements. But then..." he paused and then, "I accessed satellite images to confirm location."
The tablet showed wreckage.
Mangled steel. Flames curling into the air.
Black smoke.
Burnt tyres. Shattered glass.
My stomach churned.
And I got into action.
I got up, throwing the device back at him and stormed across the room, grabbing my keys.
"Darsh," I barked, "fifty men. Loaded. We leave now."
He didn't hesitate.
"Wait, Sir," Veer stopped me. "There's more!" Then he opened another tab and passed it over to me. "DetaNexus extracted this from ma'am's phone."
The contents on the screen made my blood turn cold for a different reason. The words, the implications.
I snapped.
"Veer, send her real-time coordinates to everyone of us. I want eyes in the sky, on the ground, and in the fucking soil if needed. Tap satellites. Tap every feed. If a bird flies over her, I want to know which feather moved."
He was the kidnapper. It had to be him. The emails and his threats accused him.
He took her.
Phantom took her.
Whoever he was.
She ran, and he took that as a sign. This was his fix.
My phone rang.
Parth.
I didn't wait for pleasantries.
"Send twenty of your men behind me. I want them armed."
But his voice cut through with steel. "It's the Italians, Aryan."
I froze.
"They planted bombs," he continued. "A mole said the plan was to detonate the Haveli during the wedding. And I'm almost certain they've taken her. They've been hovering for a week."
Fuck!
Not Phantom then.
"I've managed to secure most of them," Parth added. "But we're blind on her. You go after herโI'll evacuate the family."
The call dropped.
I slammed the phone down just as I slid into the driver's seat. My hands trembled, not from fear, no, I wasn't built for that, but from restraint. The rage had reached a boiling point, and I was barely holding it together.
Another call lit up my screen.
Shivansh.
Perfect fucking timing.
I stared at the name for half a second before answering.
"What?" I growled, jaw clenched so tight I could taste blood.
"I know you've figured out I helped Di run and the kidnapping was staged," he began, voice steady, even in this situation. "But I've been calling Pranav. I can't reach him. He's not picking up. Something's wrong."
I gripped the wheel tighter, my vision sharpening to a lethal focus.
"I have sent more men after them, and I know you are going after her, so you needed to know. I trust you find her well and alive, Aryan." His voice rang through the phone.
"You listening?" I asked, my voice low. Controlled. Cold enough to freeze hell over.
"Yes," he whispered.
"Whatever happens," I said, slowly and clearly, "is on you. Every drop of blood spilt, every broken bone of hers, it's all on you."
Then I ended the call.
I threw the car into gear and floored the accelerator. The tires screamed against the gravel as I took off like a bullet from a gun. Speed limits didn't exist anymore. My heartbeat was in sync with the engine, rapid and relentless.
She ran. Of course she did. My little hurricane with a death wish.
Italians. Stalker. They all think they have a claim on her.
They're wrong.
She's mine.
Not in the sweet, poetic way people say it. In the kind of way that makes me tear through speed cameras, black out maps, and rewrite road laws.
Let them come for her.
Let them all try.
"One problem at a time," I muttered, jaw clenched. "Phantom later. Italians later. First, I get my wife back."
Her GPS location was forty-five minutes out, an abandoned highway surrounded by thick trees and deaf zones.
I got there in twenty.
I didn't breathe until the trees broke and the wreckage came into view.
The wreckage that was in front of me.
I gulped as I stepped out of my car, running towards Shivansh's as it blew smoke from where it had crashed against a tree.
My boots crushed the gravel as I sprinted to the twisted metal, my lungs burning from the sudden cold.
I spun around, scanning the wreckage, the road, the trees, looking for something. Anything. Any sign. My pulse was a war drum in my ears.
Then I saw him.
Crawling.
A mangled silhouette dragging himself across the dirt, smeared in blood, his arm bent at a sick angle.
"Pranav," I growled and charged toward him.
He lifted his head just barely, face torn and bloodied.
I didn't wait. I grabbed him by the collar, fingers pressing into his bruised neck, yanking him halfway off the ground.
"Where is she?" I barked, eyes locked on his broken ones.
He choked, gasping for breath. "She's alive," he rasped. "But..."
My grip tightened. "But what, Pranav?"
He coughed, a spray of red hitting the ground. "Eleven men. After her."
That was all I needed.
I let him drop like a stone, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
"Search the fucking area!" I barked at my men. "NOW!"
I opened her tracker. Still active, but glitching, bouncing across seven different coordinates like the woods were playing games with me. Thick trees, dead zones. The signal was alive but restless. Just like her.
She was running.
Smart girl.
I split the team into seven groups, one for each coordinate, and sprinted into the forest with mine, shoving branches out of the way, boots pounding the earth like thunder.
Let her be safe.
Let her be breathing.
Let her be alive.
Because if she weren't, every single one of those Italians would be incinerated.
I ran, boots devouring the distance, my men thundering behind me.
The signal on the tracker steadied.
Close.
Too close.
And then I saw them.
Bodies.
Bleeding from bullet holes.
Nine.
"Good girl," I muttered, a twisted smirk curling my lips.
That meant two were still standing, and still hunting her.
The forest was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood. My senses sharpened. My trigger finger itched.
Then, a scream.
Not loud.
Choked.
I spun toward the sound and tore through the last stretch of trees--
And my world tilted.
Two men had her.
Her wrists were pinned, her body writhing between them, her mouth covered, her eyes wide and wild as she kicked, clawed, fought like a fucking animal.
And then, one raised his hand and slapped her. "Stay still, you bloody Indian. A bunch of savages."
I didn't think. I didn't breathe.
I raised my gun, cold, steady.
Bang.
One down.
The one who had slapped her flinched, turning, his grip loosening.
That's all she needed.
She broke free like a storm unleashed, driving her elbow into his gut, and as he hunched over, she kicked his face.
The man passed out, and she looked up and froze.
For a split second, her chest heaving, lips parted, eyes wide. Not with fear, but disbelief. Like she hadn't expected me to come. Like she thought she'd really gotten away.
Foolish girl.
"Take that one," I barked to Darsh, pointing to the bloodied man slumped on the ground. "Alive. Drag him back to the compound."
My voice was razor-sharp. Controlled. Dangerous.
"Get everyone else out of these woods. Tell Shivansh and Parth's men to retreat. Rajat's team stays. The rest, go help with the Haveli evacuation."
Darsh nodded and moved.
I didn't take my eyes off her.
And she didn't move.
The others faded behind us. One by one. Until only silence remained.
And her.
My runaway bride.
She was filthy. Dirt streaked her cheeks, and leaves tangled in her hair. Her temple was smeared with blood, still wet, still fresh. But beyond that?
Not. One. Scratch.
Good.
Only I was allowed to mark her.
And now, there was nowhere left to run.
She knew it too.
Her chest rose and fell like she could barely contain the panic swimming under her skin. But she held my gaze, stubborn as ever, lips trembling, not from fear.
From what, then?
Rage?
Defiance?
Or the horrifying realisation that the madman she tried to escape...
Had found her.
I took a step toward her.
She took one back.
The corners of my lips curled into a cold, dangerous smile.
The predator who'd caught his prey.
She mirrored my pace, breath quick, feet unsure, like her body was deciding whether to flee or surrender.
My steps were deliberate. Grounded. I had all the time in the world to punish her for this betrayal.
"What did any of this achieve?" I asked, voice low, lethal, as I gestured to the chaos around us. "All the running... the lies... the blood spilt for your little rebellion."
I was close enough now to feel the heat rolling off her skin.
And then, I snapped.
My hands gripped her shoulders and slammed her against the nearest tree.
A gasp escaped her lips as her back collided with the bark, rough and unforgiving against her softness.
I watched her eyes, wide, trembling, wild.
Good.
"Hmm?" I tilted my head, leaning in, my nose brushing against hers. "You're back in my arms, Princess."
My hold was iron. She didn't fight it. Not yet. Not when she was smart enough to know what I could do.
What I would do.
"What was the point?" I murmured, my lips inches from hers. "Running like a coward, only to land exactly where you started?"
I dipped my head and inhaled deeply, dragging my nose down the curve of her neck, the scent of adrenaline and defiance still clinging to her like perfume.
She shuddered.
"Inevitable," I whispered. "That's what this is. You. Me."
My tongue darted out, barely grazing the hollow of her throat.
She whimpered.
"Why prolong it?" I growled against her pulse.
She trembled, but she didn't speak. Couldn't. Her silence echoed between us, heavy with memory and tension, just like that night, eleven years ago.
Back then, I had her pinned against a tree, too. Her breath had hitched the same way, her body had gone still the same way. And yet, I'd felt it then, how her silence wasn't fear.
It was a surrender.
Just like it was now.
Again, before our mehndi, she'd melted against me in seconds. And I knew. I always knew.
My hand slid down from her shoulders, deliberately slow, until it anchored at her waist, firm, possessive, like I was branding her with touch alone.
She tensed beneath my palm, but her eyes never left mine. That beautiful defiance in her gaze flickered like a dying flame.
And God, I wanted to smother it and stoke it all at once.
"You know," I began, my voice velvet over steel, "I had such glorious plans for our future."
My grip tightened on her waist, fingers digging in, bruising. Claiming. "I thought I'd be merciful," I said. "Give you time to adjust... let you fight in your head, while your body slowly betrayed you."
I pushed into her, our bodies flush, her heartbeat pulsing through her ribs and into mine.
Her breath caught, and I smiled.
"I would've given you space," I whispered, dragging my other hand from her shoulder to her neck, the pads of my fingers pressing into the soft column of her throat. "Room to breathe."
My thumb brushed over her pulse, erratic, desperate.
"And in the meantime..." I leaned in, lips brushing the edge of her jaw. "...I'd seduce you."
Her spine arched slightly at the word. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping, but she didn't speak.
"Slowly. Surely." My fingers flexed, applying just enough pressure on her throat to make her breath stutter. "Until you stopped hating me. Until you begged me not to stop."
"But you had to go ahead and ruin it all, didn't you?" I whispered, and then sank my teeth into the junction of her neck and shoulder. Hard. Possessive. A mark she'd wear like a scar.
"You made me do this," I murmured against her skin, letting the heat of my breath wash over the spot I'd bitten. "You forced my hand."
I drew back, my hand sliding from her throat to cradle the side of her face, tender in contrast, as if I hadn't just threatened to consume her whole.
My gaze locked with hers. "There's no breathing room anymore, Princess. No mercy. No escape."
And then I leaned in to seal the promise with a kiss. Our first kiss.
Not gentle.
Not tender.
A brand.
A warning.
A ruin.
But just before my lips could crash into hers, her body shifted.
Steel kissed my throat.
The glint of the fallen knife caught the fading light, and her steady hand held it flush against my skin.
And then--
Crack!
Her forehead slammed into mine.
Stars exploded behind my eyes.
Pain shot through my skull like lightning. I staggered back a step, stunned.
She stood before me, chest heaving, eyes wild and untamed, lips parted, smeared with the ghost of what I almost claimed.
And then she ran, the knife still in her hand.
My bride.
My traitor.
My little storm.
And I fucking smiled.
The sound of her payal thundered in my ears, jingling through the forest. The sight of her running away from me in that red saree. My head throbbed, and I felt my skin tear, but I didn't care.
She'd drawn first blood.
Good.
"By doing that," I growled, low and lethal, as I stalked after her through the trees, "you've forced the madman to come out and play, Princess."
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