"1. From Silence to Roar"

"Mujhe isiliye banaya us bhagwaan ne

Kyuki vo dekhna chahte the,

Ki insaan kis hadd tak

dard seh sakta hai"

•••

In a dense, secluded forest, the scene was set with an air of mystery and tension. The towering trees created a natural canopy, allowing only slivers of sunlight to penetrate through, casting an eerie light across the ground. The silence of the forest was broken by the presence of about 15-20 sleek, black cars parked in a tight formation, their polished surfaces gleaming dully in the dim light. Surrounding these vehicles were 25-30 men, each dressed in identical black attire—a uniform that consisted of black t-shirts, pants, and matching sunglasses, which hid their eyes and added to their intimidating appearance. These men stood in formation, creating a perimeter around a small, solitary one-room house made of old bricks. The house, though simple in structure, had an air of importance, as if it held a secret worth guarding.

The men stood with a disciplined posture, their hands behind their backs, but a closer look revealed the cold, metallic glint of firearms clutched in their grips. Each man wore a Bluetooth earpiece, suggesting they were in constant communication, possibly receiving and giving orders. Among them, five stood out—they were armed with large, powerful guns, their fingers casually resting near the triggers, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Amidst this highly charged atmosphere, one man clearly held a position of authority. He was dressed similarly to the others, but with the addition of a black blazer over his t-shirt, giving him a more commanding presence.  He was clearly the leader, the one in charge of the entire operation. The leader approached the small brick house, his steps echoing slightly in the otherwise silent environment. He paused briefly at the door, scanning the area with a sharp gaze, ensuring everything was in place. Satisfied, he pushed open the creaking wooden door and entered the house.

Inside, the house was stark and bare, devoid of any furniture or decoration. The walls, made of rough brick, seemed to close in, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere. The only sound was the soft crunch of the leader's shoes on the dusty floor as he walked towards a corner of the room. In the corner, partially hidden by a faded curtain, was a small, inconspicuous button. Without hesitation, the leader reached out and pressed it.

As the leader pressed the hidden button, the atmosphere within the small, barren house shifted. A soft, mechanical hum resonated through the room, and then, right in the center of the floor, the tiles began to shift. With a smooth, almost silent motion, they slid apart, revealing a set of stairs leading downward. The entrance to this hidden passage was stark against the otherwise ordinary surroundings, hinting at the secrets concealed below. The man in charge descended the stairs, each step echoing slightly in the confined space. The further he went, the cooler and more humid the air became, a stark contrast to the dry, dusty room above.

The staircase spiraled downward, seemingly endless, until finally, he emerged into an underground world that contrasted sharply with the modest structure above. The area he entered was vast, like a hidden valley beneath the earth. The ceiling loomed high overhead, supported by large, rugged pillars that seemed to have been carved out of the very rock that surrounded them. The floor was smooth, with a polished finish that reflected the dim, artificial lights embedded into the walls.  The leader walked forward, his footsteps echoing slightly in the expansive space. The passageway he found himself in was lined with doors—dozens of them, stretching far into the distance. Each door was solid, made of reinforced metal, with no markings or indications of what lay behind them. The uniformity of the doors added to the mystery, making it impossible to guess what secrets each room held.

The leader hesitated for a moment before reaching out to open the heavy, reinforced door. As the door swung open, he was immediately assaulted by the pungent, metallic stench of blood. The smell was overwhelming, thick in the air, mingling with the musty scent of the underground chamber. Instinctively, he raised his hand to cover his nose, his eyes narrowing as they adjusted to the dim light that barely illuminated the scene inside. The room was small and windowless, with only a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting weak, uneven light over the grim scene. The shadows danced eerily across the walls, adding to the sinister atmosphere. In the center of the room, a tall, imposing figure stood over a man who was crumpled on the floor, barely clinging to consciousness. The man standing was about 6'2" tall, his broad shoulders and muscular build making him an intimidating presence. He was dressed in a white shirt, or what was once white, now soaked in blood, turning it a deep, sickening red. His black pants were splattered with the same crimson stains, evidence of the violence that had unfolded in this confined space.

With a cold, almost mechanical precision, the tall man delivered brutal, relentless blows to the victim on the ground. His fists were bloodied, his knuckles raw from the repeated impact, yet he showed no signs of stopping. Each punch landed with a sickening thud, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing in the small room. The victim, a much smaller and frailer man, was barely recognizable, his face swollen and bloody, his clothes torn and stained with blood. Surrounding this grisly scene were twenty more men, all dressed similarly in black attire. They formed a tight circle around the two men, their expressions cold and unfeeling, their eyes reflecting the dim light as they watched the brutality unfold. They were silent, their presence adding to the tension in the room. None of them moved or spoke; they were there solely to ensure that no one interfered with the violent interrogation taking place.

Guy: "Sir"

The other man, the one delivering the brutal beating, seemed completely unfazed by the leader’s arrival. He didn’t even glance up or acknowledge the entrance; his focus remained entirely on the task at hand. His fists continued to pummel the man tied to the chair, delivering blow after merciless blow. The victim, bound tightly to the chair, was a pitiful sight. His body was slumped forward, barely held upright by the restraints. Blood dripped from numerous wounds, staining the floor beneath him, pooling around his feet. His face was so battered and swollen that it was impossible to recognize him, the features obscured by bruises, cuts, and a thick layer of blood. His breathing was ragged, each breath a painful rasp that seemed to grow weaker with every passing moment. The tall man’s movements were methodical, almost clinical, as if he were simply carrying out a routine task rather than inflicting unimaginable pain. His white shirt, now completely soaked in blood, clung to his muscular frame, the fabric stiffening as the blood dried. With each strike, the chair creaked under the force, and the victim’s head lolled to the side, his strength completely drained.

Guy: "Sir"

Once again, there was no response from the tall man. The only sound that filled the room was the sickening echo of each punch landing with brutal force.

Guy: "S..sir"

"Saying something more than Sir, Amandeep Arora"

The other man, now filled with a frenzied intensity, let out a roar that resonated through the room. His anger was palpable, his voice booming as he shouted, "Mr. Amandeep Arora!" The name, now echoing amidst the chaos, was a harsh reminder of the authority behind the brutal act.

Amandeep: "Sir, we have kidnapped the guy as you instructed. Now we can proceed with the plan. We don't have much time, only two hours are left before the wedding."

Other Guy: "Get my outfit ready, I'm coming."

Amandeep gave a curt nod, his expression one of grim satisfaction, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Other Guy: "Make sure he doesn't die; he still has a lot to suffer."

The tall man, having finished his brutal task, left the blood-soaked room with a purposeful stride.  He made his way through a series of dimly lit corridors until he reached another door. This door opened into a completely different environment—a stark contrast to the grim chamber he had just left. The space beyond was designed with a semblance of luxury and comfort, a sort of penthouse hidden within the underground facility. The penthouse was spacious and well-appointed, featuring a small but elegant kitchen, a comfortable hall with plush furnishings, and two tastefully decorated bedrooms.  The tall man walked with deliberate steps towards one of the bedrooms. He entered the room and made his way directly to the attached washroom. The bathroom was modern and pristine, with sleek fixtures and a large glass shower enclosure that occupied a prominent corner. He quickly removed his bloodied shirt, tossing it into a dustbin placed near the entrance.   As the shirt landed in the bin with a soft thud, the man stepped into the glass shower. Under the steady stream of hot water, he stood with his hands resting against the glass door, his head tilted slightly downward. The water cascaded over him, washing away the remnants of blood and grime from his body.

As the hot water continued to cascade over him, it gradually washed away the blood that had stained his face and body. The once crimson streaks dissolved under the steady stream, revealing his well-maintained physique. The tall man was now completely drenched, the water clinging to his skin and causing the bloodstains to mix into the drain. His body, revealed in its entirety, was a testament to countless hours of rigorous training and discipline. His physique was lean yet strikingly toned, with clear and defined eight-pack abs that spoke of an intense dedication to fitness. His broad chest and back were muscular but not overly bulky, reflecting a balance between strength and agility. His biceps and triceps were well-sculpted, each muscle well-defined under the sleek, wet skin. The man’s hair, black and voluminous, was plastered to his forehead and back, damp from the shower. The water had given his hair a darker sheen, emphasizing its thickness and texture. The steam from the shower had made his hair cling to his face and neck, further highlighting his chiseled features. After finishing his shower, he turned off the water and stepped out of the enclosure. He grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and wrapped it around his waist, securing it with practiced ease. Another towel was used to dry his hair, gently wiping away the excess moisture and restoring some volume to his dark locks, then stepped out of the washroom, his appearance pristine and composed despite the earlier brutality.

After his shower, the tall man walked into the bedroom where his fresh clothes awaited him. The king-size bed was impeccably arranged, with a crisp, white Armani suit laid out neatly.  The outfit was a stark contrast to the blood-soaked attire he had discarded. The suit consisted of a pristine white shirt, beige pants, and a matching blazer, each piece exuding a sense of luxury and refinement. He quickly dressed, slipping into the tailored suit with practiced ease. The ensemble was completed with a brooch pinned to his lapel, cufflinks gleaming subtly at his wrists, and brown shiny shoes that polished off the sophisticated look. With a final touch, he fastened a remarkably expensive watch around his wrist, the intricate design catching the light and reflecting its high value. He then reached for a bottle of cologne, its fragrance a rich and subtle blend that added to his air of affluence. He sprayed a generous amount on himself, ensuring he was enveloped in a scent that complemented his polished appearance. Using a hairdryer, he meticulously styled his damp hair, bringing it back to its voluminous and well-groomed state.  The final touch to his attire was a chain around his neck, which held a distinctive "Trishul" 🔱locket.  He closed his eyes, gently kissed the locket, and then opened his eyes again, which now glowed with a fierce, unyielding anger. His eyes were slightly red, reflecting the intensity of his emotions. He took a deep breath, Grabbing his phone and wallet, he left the room, his demeanor cold and resolute.

As he emerged from the depths of the underground facility, the tall man stepped into the natural light of day. The sun’s rays bathed his fair skin, accentuating his sharp, striking features. His complexion, now clean and polished from the shower, looked almost ethereal against the brightness of the daylight. His features were exquisitely defined: thick eyebrows framed his intense, pure black eyes, which were complemented by long lashes. His nose was long and pointed, adding to the air of authority and sophistication. His thin lips, though rarely expressive, held an underlying tension that hinted at his inner emotions. A light beard, meticulously groomed, added a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise immaculate appearance. Standing at 6'2", his well-built physique was a seamless blend of strength and elegance.  In the light of day, it was evident that his imposing presence and handsome features made a striking impression, contrasting sharply with the brutal image of him in the interrogation room just moments earlier. As he walked through the area, all the guards present—who had been standing in disciplined formation—bowed their heads respectfully. Their obedience was a clear sign of his commanding presence and the high regard in which he was held. The man, however, responded with only a slight nod, acknowledging their deference without a word. Approaching him was Amandeep Arora, who carried a file with a professional air. The file was marked with the name “Sachet Rathore” in bold letters. Amandeep extended the file towards the tall man, his demeanor respectful and somewhat deferential.

Amandeep: "Sir, this file contains all the details about "Sachet Rathore"—his legal and illegal activities, his family background, everything except..."

Guy: "Except what?"

Amandeep: "Sir, we tried, but... actually..."

Guy: "The word "tried" doesn't exist in Rudraksh Malhotra's dictionary, Arora. Get that in your mind. I work to get results. Now tell me, except what?"

The strikingly handsome man in the beige suit, surrounded by attentive bodyguards, was none other than Mr. Rudraksh Malhotra. His commanding presence and refined appearance underscored his powerful status, starkly contrasting the brutality he had exhibited just moments earlier.

Amandeep: "Sir, we couldn't find any information about his sister—not even a photo or name. He and his family have kept her very well-hidden. But we are certain that she has returned from London, and Vijaypratap is marrying someone today. However, we are not sure if it's his daughter."

Rudraksh: "Does Vijaypratap have any other daughters?"

Amandeep: "No."

Rudraksh: "And it's a private ceremony, right?"

Amandeep: "It's not even a ceremony, sir. He's kept everything very private. Even getting the information about this wedding was extremely difficult."

Rudraksh: "Then what other proof do you need to believe he's marrying off his daughter today?"

Amandeep said nothing further, his head bowed as Rudraksh's voice cut through the silence with a harsh, commanding tone.

Amandeep remained silent and lowered his head as Rudraksh’s voice became harsher.

Amandeep: "Sorry, sir."

Rudraksh: "Where is Sachet Rathore right now?"

Amandeep: "Still in London."

Rudraksh: "Soon, he'll be begging in front of me. Let's go."

Amandeep quickly nodded and, with a brisk movement, opened the door for Rudraksh. Rudraksh settled into the back seat, and Amandeep took the passenger seat beside the driver. With a prompt command, he instructed the driver to start the car. As the vehicle pulled away, the bodyguards also took their positions in their respective cars, forming a convoy. The procession drove out of the forest, leaving behind the secluded area as they headed towards their next destination. Ten cars led the way while another ten followed behind Rudraksh's vehicle, forming an imposing convoy. As they emerged onto the highway, a striking "RM" logo was prominently displayed on all the cars, enhancing their commanding presence. The scene exuded a rich and dominating aura, every detail reinforcing a singular message: "Power." The coordinated display of wealth and authority created an undeniable impression of strength and influence.

Amandeep: "Sir, are you sure about what you're going to do? I mean, you’ve never involved a girl in your revenge before, so..."

Rudraksh: "Are you questioning my decision, Arora?"

Amandeep: "No, sir, but this time..."

Rudraksh: "This time someone messed with Kartavya Bhai, and I can never forgive anyone who hurts my brother."

Amandeep: "But sir, that girl..."

Rudraksh: "That girl is not innocent. She tried to ruin Kartavya Bhai's life. Both she and her brother will pay for their deeds, but my revenge will start with that girl."

Amandeep: "Sir, I think you should at least..."

Rudraksh: "Shut up, Arora, and just do as I say."

Amandeep gave a nod of acknowledgment, and with that, they continued their journey towards their destination.

On the other side of the city, there was a mansion that struck a balance between modesty and grandeur. The mansion was neither too big nor too small, but just the right size to accommodate its 12-15 rooms. Its entrance was marked by a substantial gate, manned by five security guards clad in blue uniforms, ensuring a high level of security. Two sleek cars were parked prominently in front of the mansion’s entrance, hinting at the wealth and status of its occupants. As one moved inside, the interior was characterized by a cream and brown color scheme, giving it a vintage yet contemporary feel. The combination of the traditional color palette with modern infrastructure created a warm and inviting atmosphere, though the décor was minimal, focusing more on functional elegance. In the heart of the living room stood a traditional "wedding mandap," its ornate setup contrasting with the otherwise simple surroundings. Seated comfortably on a plush couch was a lady in her 50s. She was dressed in a lavish bandhani saree, its intricate patterns and vibrant colors highlighting her refined taste. Her blouse, heavily worked with embroidery, and her array of fine jewelry added to her aura of opulence. She was leisurely enjoying some snacks, her posture relaxed and dignified. Nearby, a young girl sat on the floor, visibly thin and dressed in a faded pink anarkali suit. The anarkali featured delicate sleeves and a flowing dupatta that added a touch of grace to her appearance. Her hair was styled in neat braids, reaching down to her hips. With a slight tremble in her hands, she served tea to the lady on the couch. Her movements were careful and respectful, reflecting her nervousness and the gravity of the task she was performing.

Lady: "Aaj shadi hai teri, iska matlab ye mat samajhna ki yaha se azaad ho gayi hai tu. Hum jab bulayenge tujhe aana padega aur jo bolenge karna padega samjhi??"

(Today is your wedding, but don’t think that means you’re free from here. When we call you, you’ll have to come, and you’ll do what we tell you to, understood?)

The girl nodded her head in acknowledgment.

Lady: "Chal pair daba mere."

(Come, massage my feet.)

The girl began to gently massage the lady's legs, her hands moving with a practiced and delicate touch.

Lady: "Ladka Teri nani ne hi chuna hai, hum bas apni zimmedari nibha rahe hai. Sasural jaake naak mat kata dena."

(Your grandmother chose the groom, we’re just fulfilling our responsibility. Don’t bring shame to us when you go to your in-laws' house.)

The girl again nodded.

Lady: "Aur jaise yaha zubaan nahi chalati vaha bhi mat chalana, aur jo tera pati kahega vahi karna, aur agar vo tere sath kuch karna chahe toh mana nahi karegi tu samjhi?"

(And just as you don’t speak here, don’t speak there either. Do whatever your husband tells you, and if he wants to do anything with you, you won’t refuse, understood?)

The girl's face grew tense with fear, her eyes wide and filled with anxiety. Sweat began to bead on her forehead as her hands trembled noticeably. The once-gentle movements of her massage became uneven, reflecting her growing apprehension and the mounting pressure she felt.

Lady: "Samjhi??"

(Understood?)

The lady's patience wore thin, and she repeated her question with an edge of impatience. The girl, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed on the lady, her eyes reflecting her deep fear. In response, the lady reached out and yanked the girl’s hair, her grip harsh and demanding. The sudden pain caused the girl to flinch, her trembling hands momentarily stilling as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Lady: "Himmat kaise huyi meri, Sukriti Vijaypratap Rathore ki baat ansuna karne ki."

(How dare you ignore what I, Sukriti Vijaypratap Rathore, said?)

Mrs. Sukriti Vijaypratap Rathore's frustration boiled over as she pushed the girl forcefully. The girl stumbled backward and fell to the floor, her hands bracing her fall and scraping against the hard surface, resulting in slight bruises. Despite the pain and the impact, the girl remained remarkably silent, not uttering a single sound of discomfort or distress.

Sukriti: "Ja, jaake taiyar hoja, tera pati aata hoga tujhse shadi karne. Shadi karke yaha se jaa aur humara picha chod, dada ho humari zindagi se."

(Go, get ready, your husband must be on his way to marry you. Get married and leave, and get out of our lives. You’re a burden on us.)

In a corner of the room, another lady stood quietly, clearly a maid in the household. Tears welled up in her eyes as she witnessed the girl's distress and the harsh treatment she endured. As the girl, now standing, began to move towards the stairs, her eyes met those of the maid. She shook her head slightly, a silent plea for the maid not to cry. The maid, understanding the unspoken communication, offered a faint, sorrowful smile in return. The girl then ascended the stairs, disappearing into her room, leaving behind the subdued atmosphere of the living room and the lingering sense of empathy from the maid.

The girl entered her small, sparse room and closed the door behind her. The room was stark and unadorned, with no bed or furniture beyond the essentials—a mat spread out on the floor and two bags stacked in the corner. On the mat lay a bridal dress, its elaborate design a sharp contrast to the room's emptiness. With a blank expression, the girl approached the dress, her movements mechanical and devoid of emotion. She picked it up carefully, as if the weight of the garment held more significance than its material. Without a word, she made her way to the washroom, closing the door behind her. The washroom was similarly minimalistic, with just enough space for her to prepare. She changed into the bridal dress, the once-pristine fabric now enveloping her form. The dress was intricate, with detailed embroidery and delicate embellishments that highlighted its ceremonial nature.  As she emerged from the washroom, now fully attired in the bridal dress, she heard a knock at the door. The sound startled her, causing her heart to race. With trembling hands, she approached the door, her fear palpable. She took a deep breath to steady herself and slowly opened the door. Standing on the other side were two girls.

Girl 1: "Hello, ma'am. We’re here to get you ready for your wedding."

Girl 2: "Can we come inside?"

The fear on the girl’s face was unmistakable, yet she knew that refusal was not an option. She had been taught never to deny anyone, regardless of her own discomfort or fear. With a trembling body and a heart weighed down by apprehension, she stepped aside to let the two girls enter. They began their work with a practiced efficiency, and though the girl’s anxiety remained palpable, she stood silently, her fear evident but her resolve unyielding.

Downstairs, Sukriti Vijaypratap Rathore, resplendent in her elaborate attire, exuded an air of regal elegance. She was dressed like a queen, her garments and jewelry reflecting her high status. She was engaged in a detailed conversation with the priest, inquiring about the final arrangements for the ceremony. As they discussed, a man in his late 50s entered the room. His arrival was marked by a respectful greeting to the priest, signaling his significance and perhaps his role in the event or in Sukriti's life.

Priest: "Khammaghani Vijay Hukum, sari taiyari ho gayi hai."

(Greetings, Vijay Hukum, all the preparations are complete.)

Vijaypratap: "Thik hai. Dulha bhi jaldi hi aata hoga."

(Good. The groom should be arriving soon.)

Vijaypratap, with a cruel smile playing on his lips, exchanged a knowing glance with Sukriti, who also wore a wicked grin. Their expressions conveyed a shared sense of satisfaction or malevolence, underscoring the gravity of the situation. However, their smiles quickly faded as a guard burst into the room, stumbling and clearly in distress. He was severely injured, his condition evident from the blood and the pain etched on his face.

Vijaypratap: "Ye kya hua tumhe?? Kisne kiya??"

(What happened to you? Who did this?)

Before the guard could utter a word, a voice roared through the hall, commanding immediate attention. The powerful, authoritative tone cut through the tension, silencing the room and shifting everyone's focus to the source of the voice.

"Maine"

(I did)

Vijaypratap and Sukriti turned their attention toward the entrance, where Rudraksh stood with an air of regal authority. His presence was commanding, his posture exuding control and dominance. As he removed his sunglasses, his gaze locked directly with Vijaypratap’s. The intensity of Rudraksh's stare unsettled Vijaypratap, causing a flicker of fear to cross his face. Despite this, he maintained his composure and approached Rudraksh, his movements deliberate and cautious, reflecting the power dynamic at play.

Vijaypratap: "Rudraksh Malhotra, ya toh kahu ki Asian Mafia king "Leo"."

(Rudraksh Malhotra—or should I say, the Asian Mafia King, "Leo.")

Rudraksh: "Ohh toh tum mujhe pehchante bhi ho."

(Oh, so you recognize me.)

Vijaypratap: "Tum apni pehchan chupa ke rakhoge iska matlab ye nahi ki logo ki aakhein nahi hai. Meri bhi pehchan hai underworld me."

(Just because you hide your identity doesn’t mean people don’t have eyes. I have a reputation in the underworld as well.)

Rudraksh: "Jo ki aaj kaam nahi aayegi, kyuki tumhari beti ko aaj mujhse toh koi nahi bacha sakta aur tumhare bete ko bhi."

(Which won’t be of any use today because no one can save your daughter from me today, nor your son.)

Vijaypratap: "Kya matlab hai tumhara."

(What do you mean?)

Rudraksh: "Aroraaa"

Rudraksh’s roar echoed through the living room, and in an instant, the space was swarmed by his guards. The room, once filled with tension and the sound of their voices, now buzzed with the authoritative presence of Rudraksh’s men. Some of the guards swiftly apprehended Vijaypratap and Sukriti, securing them in place and effectively rendering them captive. The sudden shift in control and the sight of the restrained couple underscored Rudraksh’s formidable power and the gravity of the situation

Vijaypratap: "Chodo hume kya chahiye tumhe."

(Leave us, what do you want?)

Rudraksh: "abhi pata chal jayega."

(You’ll find out soon enough.)

Sukriti: "Gaurdsss gaurdss"

Amandeep: "Koi Zinda nahi bacha hai ma'am mat chillayiye."

(No one is left alive, ma'am. Don’t shout.)

Sukriti and Vijaypratap’s shock was immediate and profound as the guards, with precise coordination, aimed their guns at them. The once-calm and composed couple now faced the stark reality of their perilous situation. Fear gripped them as the cold, unyielding barrels of the guns were pointed directly at them, their previous sense of control and superiority rapidly eroding under the looming threat of violence.

Rudraksh: "Daro mat, jaan nahi lenge tumhari."

(Don’t be afraid, we won’t take your life.)

Vijaypratap: "Phir kya chahiye. "

(Then what do you want?)

Rudraksh: "Tumhari beti."

(Your daughter.)

Sukriti: "Par voooo"

(But she...)

Rudraksh: "Janta hu, Shadi hai na aaj uski."

(I know, she’s getting married today, right?)

Sukriti and Vijaypratap exchanged bewildered glances, their faces etched with confusion and fear.

Rudraksh: "Mujhe kaise pata chala ye mat socho. Lekin ye socho ki usko bacha nahi paoge ab."

(Don’t wonder how I found out. Just know that you won’t be able to save her now.)

Vijaypratap: "Matlab, kya kiya hai usne kyu chahiye tumhe meri beti."

(What do you mean? What has she done? Why do you want my daughter?)

Rudraksh: "London jaake usne apni zindagi ki Sabse badi galti kar di. Logo ki zindagion se khelne ka bahaut shaukh hai tumhari beti aur bete dono ko. Bas usi ki saza deni"

(Going to London, she made the biggest mistake of her life. Your daughter and son both enjoy playing with people’s lives. I’m just here to punish them for that.)

Sukriti: "Mere bachcho ko kuch nahi kar sakte tum. Aur aaj meri beti ki"

(You can’t do anything to my children. And today is my daughter's...)

Rudraksh: "Ha tumhari ki beti ki shadi hai, daro mat shadi rokne nahi aaya hu. Bas dulha badal jayega."

(Yes, it's your daughter’s wedding. Don’t worry, I’m not here to stop the wedding. The groom will just be changed.)

Vijaypratap: "Kya matlab hai tumhara?"

(What do you mean?)

Rudraksh: "Matlab ye ab uski shadi mujhse hogi, aur phir use pata chalega ki kisi ke sath zabardasti karna kya hota hai."

(I mean, now she’ll marry me, and then she’ll understand what it feels like to force someone into something.)

Sukriti: "Dekho tum Aisa nahi kar sakte, aur chodo hume.. tum"

(Look, you can’t do this, and let us go... you...)

Rudraksh: "Chup ekdum chup."

(Quiet, be completely quiet.)

Rudraksh’s roar was so forceful that it silenced everyone in the room instantly. His eyes burned with a fierce, unrestrained anger, their redness underscoring the intensity of his rage. The sheer volume of his scream cut through the tension, leaving the room in a heavy, oppressive silence as everyone awaited his next move.

Rudraksh: "Hoga vahi jo maine kaha hai, ab sirf naam batao apni beti ka, kya naam hai uska. "

(What I’ve said will happen. Now just tell me your daughter’s name. What is her name?)

Before Sukriti could utter a word, Vijaypratap interrupted, his voice strained but assertive.

Vijaypratap: "Ruhanika, Ruhanika naam hai uska."

(Her name is Ruhanika.)

Sukriti’s face was a picture of shock as she turned to Vijaypratap. Her eyes widened in disbelief, reflecting her astonishment.

Sukriti: "Ye aap..."

(How could you...)

Vijaypratap: "Chup Karo tum."

(Be quiet.)

Rudraksh: "Samajhdaar ho. Ab jaldi se use bulao, aur shadi karao. Aur kuch bhi hoshiyari karne ki koshish ki toh turant 10 goliya shareer ke aar paar ho jayenge."

(Smart move. Now quickly go and bring her here for the wedding. And if you try anything clever, ten bullets will go through your body in no time.)

Vijaypratap: "Hum shadi karane ko taiyar hai, tum kaho inse to put the guns down."

(We’re ready to conduct the wedding. But you should tell them to put the guns down)

Rudraksh: "Fine."

Rudraksh, with a sharp and commanding tone, instructed his guards to lower their guns. The guards complied immediately, discreetly hiding their weapons behind their backs.

Rudraksh: "Ab jao leke aao apni beti ko dono."

(Now go, both of you, and bring your daughter.)

Both Vijaypratap and Sukriti, visibly relieved yet still anxious, hurriedly left the room to fetch Ruhanika. Their departure was driven by the urgent need to bring her down.

On the stairs,

Sukriti: "Ye aapne kya Kiya, Ruhanika ki shadi isse, Jayvardhan jaan le lega humari."

(What have you done? Marrying Ruhanika to him? Jayvardhan will kill us!)

Vijaypratap: "Aur ise agar ye pata chala ki humari beti kon hai toh ye uski Jaan le lega. Koi mamuli aadmi nahi hai ye Asia ka Mafia king hai. Apne bachcho ki jaan bachane ke liye, dedo Ruhanika ko ise. Aage ka main kuch sochta hu, filhaal bhalai isi me hai ki him iski baat maan le, isiliye maine kuch kaha nahi niche."

(And if he finds out who our daughter really is, he will take her life. He’s not an ordinary man; he's the Mafia King of Asia. To save our children's lives, hand Ruhanika over to him. I’ll figure out what to do next. For now, it's best if we just comply with his demands, which is why I haven’t said anything downstairs.)

Sukriti: "Aur agar isne use maar diya toh humare kiye karaye pe pani phir jayega."

(But if he kills her, everything we've done will be in vain.)

Vijaypratap: "Use maar diya toh main kisi tarah se sab haasil kar lunga, par apne bachcho ki zindagi ko khatre me nahi dalunga samjhi tum."

(If he kills her, I'll find a way to get everything back. But I won't risk our children's lives, understood?)

Sukriti nodded in agreement, and soon they reached Ruhanika's room. With a sense of urgency, they guided her out, and the three of them began descending the stairs together.

Vijaypratap: "Chup chap Bina kisi tamashe ke shadi kar lena, samjhi ladki."

(Quietly, without causing a scene, get married, understood, girl?)

Ruhanika, with her hands trembling, took a few tentative steps down the stairs alongside Sukriti and Vijaypratap. As she descended, her eyes widened in fear when she saw the room filled with men in black outfits, their imposing presence heightening her anxiety. Her heartbeat quickened, echoing her growing apprehension.

Amidst the sea of black, Ruhanika's gaze was drawn to a single figure dressed in a beige outfit. The moment her eyes locked at Rudraksh's, he turned to face her. Their eyes met.

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Here's chapter one of the story. Please do share your reviews.

Should Rudraksh have listened to what Amandeep was trying to say?

Will Ruhanika marry Rudraksh?

Why is he doing all of this?

So many questions—let's find the answers together!

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Happy reading 🌸💙