chapter 24

The dimly lit basement reeked of blood, sweat, and fear. Sarthak's screams bounced off the walls, but no one was coming to save him. His arms were tied behind the rusted chair, his body slumped forward, trembling.Vikrant sat leisurely in an armchair just a few feet away, his posture relaxed, yet his eyes glowed with a dark intensity. He rested his elbow on the armrest, bringing his thumb to his lower lip, watching, waiting.The man before him was barely recognizable now. His once pristine clothes were soaked in sweat and crimson stains. Bruises painted his face, his lip was split, and his right eye was swollen shut."You know," Vikrant mused, his voice eerily calm, "I thought of killing you quickly." He leaned forward slightly. "But then I remembered Pari."Sarthak whimpered, trying to speak through his busted lips, but all that came out was a choked sound.Vikrant's fingers twitched, giving a slight nod.The enforcer beside him smirked before plunging a hot iron rod straight into Sarthak's thigh.A blood-curdling scream erupted from him as his flesh sizzled, the pungent smell of burning skin filling the room. He thrashed, but the bindings held tight, forcing him to endure the pain."Too much jaan (strength) in your legs that day, wasn't it?" Vikrant murmured, watching as Sarthak's breath came out in ragged gasps.He tilted his head, signaling again.This time, a metal clamp was brought forward, its jagged edges gleaming under the dim light. The enforcer grabbed Sarthak's hand and forced his fingers apart.Crack!Sarthak howled in agony as the clamp crushed his index finger, bending it at an unnatural angle. His body convulsed, but Vikrant remained unmoved, his gaze cold and calculating."You enjoyed hurting her, didn't you?" Vikrant's voice was soft, almost gentle, which only made it more terrifying. "Tell me..." He stood up, slowly walking toward him, crouching so their faces were mere inches apart. "Do you regret it now?"Tears mixed with blood as Sarthak barely managed to nod, his breath shallow, his body trembling from the unbearable agony Vikrant had inflicted upon him."You... are insane, Vikrant," Sarthak rasped, his voice barely a whisper, each word laced with pain. "Y... your father wouldn't leave y-you."Vikrant tilted his head, amusement flickering in his darkened eyes before his lips curled into a slow, sinister smile."You got that right, mama," he drawled, his voice deceptively soft. "I am insane. So damn insane that I can't-"In one swift motion, he grabbed the clamp and crushed another of Sarthak's fingers.A fresh, guttural scream tore from Sarthak's throat, his body convulsing against the restraints as pain shot through his nerves like wildfire.Vikrant's eyes darkened, his voice dropping into a guttural snarl as he continued, his grip tightening around the clamp."- see my Pari in fucking pain."Sarthak gasped, his body going slack for a moment, his vision blurring from the intensity of his suffering.But Vikrant wasn't done.He fisted Sarthak's blood-matted hair, yanking his head up with a force that made the man groan in protest. Their faces were inches apart now, Vikrant's breath warm and terrifyingly steady against his trembling skin."And you, mama?" Vikrant's tone shifted, his rage morphing into something far more dangerous- possessive, territorial. "You tortured her. You made my Pari cry."His grip tightened, his fingers twisting in Sarthak's scalp as his next words dripped with cruel amusement."Now, I could show you hell every single day... or should I let you off easy?" He chuckled, a sound so devoid of humanity that it sent an icy shudder down Sarthak's spine.Vikrant suddenly leaned in closer, his voice taking on a chillingly innocent lilt, almost childlike in its sincerity."Varna mera pati hone ka kya matlab? Apni patni ki raksha karna toh aana chahiye na..."( Otherwise what's the meaning of me being a husband? I should know how to protect my wife.)The contrast in his tone was unnerving, an eerie blend of devotion and madness.Sarthak whimpered, his body trembling violently, as Vikrant let out a quiet sigh, his fingers finally releasing his hair.But the torment wasn't over.Not yet.Vikrant let go of Sarthak's hair, allowing his head to slump forward. Blood dripped from his mangled fingers onto the cold, concrete floor. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, his body barely able to keep up with the excruciating pain.Vikrant leaned back slightly, studying the pitiful sight before him. He tapped the clamp against his palm, his expression thoughtful, almost as if he was contemplating his next move."Tell me, mama," he murmured, crouching so he was at eye level with the broken man. "Did it feel good? Watching her suffer? Hearing her cry?"Sarthak flinched but remained silent.Vikrant's jaw twitched."Answer me."Sarthak whimpered, shaking his head frantically. "N-no... I-"A harsh slap echoed in the dimly lit room, sending Sarthak's face snapping to the side. Blood pooled in his mouth, trickling down his chin as he coughed weakly."Lies." Vikrant exhaled sharply, shaking his head in disappointment. "You enjoyed it. You liked seeing her helpless, didn't you?"Sarthak sobbed, his entire body trembling. "I-I was wrong... please... I was wrong!"Vikrant smiled, slow and predatory. "Yes, you were."He grabbed a blade from the metal tray beside him, twirling it between his fingers. Sarthak's eyes widened in sheer terror, his breathing coming out in desperate, shallow pants."Do you know what happens to animals like you?" Vikrant mused, running the flat side of the blade along Sarthak's bruised cheek. "They get slaughtered."A sharp cry tore from Sarthak's throat as Vikrant pressed the blade against the tender skin just above his collarbone, dragging it down at a torturously slow pace. Blood bubbled to the surface, a thin red line trailing across his chest.Vikrant hummed, tilting his head as he admired his work. "See? A perfect cut. I should've been a surgeon."Sarthak's eyes rolled back momentarily from the pain, but Vikrant wasn't done.Not yet.He pressed the tip of the blade just below Sarthak's ribs, applying enough pressure to make the man sob harder.With that, Vikrant twisted the blade, just enough to make Sarthak scream.And it was music to his ears.Sarthak sobbed, his body convulsing as pain overtook him. "P-please... Vikrant... I'm sorry... I.. I won't-"A sharp punch to his already swollen gut cut off his words, leaving him gasping for air. Vikrant straightened, rolling his shoulders as if he had all the time in the world."Sorry?" he repeated, letting out a soft chuckle. "Do you think sorry can erase what you did?"Sarthak wheezed, his head falling forward.Vikrant crouched beside him again, wiping the blood off his blade with deliberate slowness. "You'll die when I allow you to," he murmured, running the clean edge against his thumb. "Until then... we have a long, long night ahead of us."And with that, he reached for his next tool.Because Sarthak's suffering had only just begun.Sarthak's body shook violently, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as blood and sweat coated his bruised skin. The pain was unbearable, his fingers broken, his wounds burning from the hot iron rod, his body barely able to keep itself upright."Vikrant," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "P...please... I beg you... I'm sorry..."Vikrant tilted his head, watching him with cold amusement. He leaned against the chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Sorry?" he mused, as if the word was foreign to him. "That's it? That's all you have to say after everything you've done?"Sarthak's head bobbed in a desperate nod. "I...I swear... I won't ever-"A sharp kick to his gut sent him gasping for air."You think an apology means anything in this room?" Vikrant's voice was deadly calm, sending chills down Sarthak's spine. "You think just because you're crying like a beaten dog, I'll let you go?"Sarthak coughed, spitting blood onto the cold floor. His body trembled with every shallow breath. "P...please... I'll do anything... just make it stop," he whimpered, tears mixing with the dirt and sweat on his face.Vikrant's eyes darkened as he crouched beside him, gripping his jaw so tight that Sarthak winced. "You want forgiveness?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Then beg for it. But not here."Sarthak's gaze flickered with confusion.Vikrant smirked, his grip tightening. "You will kneel before my wife. You will look into Pari's eyes and beg for her mercy, just like she once begged you to spare her dignity. And if she chooses to forgive you, maybe... just maybe, I'll consider letting you live."Sarthak whimpered, his entire body shuddering. He had no choice.Vikrant stood up, straightening his jacket as he glanced at one of his men."Take her to the fucking hospital and let her stupid sister know," he ordered coldly before walking away, leaving Sarthak drowning in pain and humiliation.Vikrant stepped into the mansion, his footsteps echoing through the silent hallways. The weight of the night clung to him—blood, rage, and the ghost of Sarthak's screams still lingering in his ears. He loosened the collar of his shirt, exhaustion settling into his bones, but his mind remained sharp, still wired with adrenaline.Without a word to anyone, he ascended the staircase, each step measured, controlled. The only place he wanted to be right now was his room.As he pushed the door open, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the space, casting a golden hue over the figure curled up on the bed.Pari.She lay soundlessly, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Strands of her hair had slipped from her braid, fanning across the pillow. The blanket was loosely wrapped around her, one bare arm peeking out, her fingers gently curled as if she had fallen asleep mid-thought.For a moment, Vikrant just stood there, his grip on the doorknob tightening. The chaos of the night, the cruelty he had unleashed, none of it existed in this moment. Here, she was untouched by the darkness that clung to him. She was safe.He stepped closer, his movements instinctively softer, careful not to wake her. As he reached the bedside, his fingers twitched, aching to touch her, to feel her warmth after everything he had done tonight.She shifted slightly, her lips parting in sleep. A soft sigh escaped her mouth.Slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on her. The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed her in a golden hue, making her look almost ethereal. He watched the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes fluttered slightly, lost in a dream.But then, a sharp scent pricked his nose.His brows furrowed as he inhaled again- metallic, pungent. Blood.He looked down at himself, and under the dim light, the dark stains on his shirt stood out like ugly reminders of the night he had just left behind. A bitter scowl crossed his face.No. Not here. Not now.Not when Pari lay just inches away, untouched by the filth he carried.He clenched his jaw and rose from the bed as silently as possible. His fingers made quick work of the buttons, peeling the blood-stained fabric off his body with controlled precision. He couldn't let even a trace of that darkness linger in their space.Stepping into the bathroom, he turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run over his hands, washing away the remnants of violence. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him—taut muscles, tense shoulders, and a face that carried too many secrets.Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, steam curling behind him, his upper body bare. Water still clung to his skin, trailing down his sculpted torso. The cold air in the room prickled against his damp skin, but he barely noticed.His eyes immediately found Pari.Still lost in sleep, she had shifted slightly, her hand now resting on the empty space where he had been moments ago, as if seeking warmth.Carefully, he again sat down beside her. He brought his hand closer to her face and he lovingly slid strands of her hair behind.His jaw tightened as he exhaled slowly.If she ever found out...If she discovered the depths of his darkness, the blood that stained his hands, would she still look at him with those same trusting eyes? Would she still let him hold her, knowing what these hands had done?He doubted it.Because the truth was far uglier than he would ever let her see.Every man who had dared to lay eyes on her, to utter curses against her, had met the same fate.Vikrant had ensured it.He could still hear their screams. The way they begged, pleaded, cried for mercy. But he had none to give.The first one was the hardest. A mere warning, he had thought. A few broken bones, nothing permanent. But then another man had come along, his eyes filled with the same filth, his words dripping with the same venom. And Vikrant had snapped.One by one, he had found them all. Dragged them into the darkness they had tried to push Pari into. He had tortured them until their pride shattered, until they had nothing left but fear in their eyes, the same fear Pari must have felt when they had tormented her.He had taken his time with Sarthak, though. He had relished that one.And yet, none of it felt like a sin.Not when it was for her.They had forced him into this. Forced him to become the very monster they should have feared from the beginning.He leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to her forehead.He would never let her know.Never let his darkness touch her.Even if it meant drenching his soul in blood a thousand times over.She sighed in her sleep, shifting slightly, and instinctively, his hand moved to her waist, holding her steady. Even in her unconscious state, she seemed to lean into his touch, as if she knew he was there, as if she trusted him.Trust.A bitter smile ghosted over his lips. If only she knew what kind of man she was trusting.He exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing the soft fabric of her nightdress absentmindedly. He had spent the night drowning in blood, listening to screams, watching fear bloom in the eyes of men who had thought they were untouchable. But here, beside her, everything was silent. Peaceful.She can never know.His demons had no place in her world. If she ever discovered what he had done and what he was still capable of, would she recoil in horror? Would she look at him with fear, rather than love?The thought alone was enough to send a sharp pain through his chest.No. He wouldn't let that happen.He brought his legs on the bed and slipped into the duvet. Just as he was about to put his head on the pillow, Pari woke up.Her eyes opened lazily and she took a few moments to process.Did he wake her up? Maybe.Her mouth parted and she engulfed his vision before asking, " Kaha chale gaye the aap?"( Where did you go?)" Had important work," he replied, placing his head on the pillow.Pari blinked the sleep from her eyes, her brows knitting slightly at his short reply. Without thinking, she turned onto his side, facing him, and placed a gentle hand on his bare upper arm. His skin was warm beneath her touch, yet the tension in his muscles was undeniable.Without a word, Vikrant shifted slightly, slipping his arm beneath her head, cradling her against him. Pari instinctively nestled closer, resting her cheek against his bare chest, her breath warm against his skin.His fingers traced gentle circles on her back, slow and rhythmic.Pari sighed softly, her hand moving to rest over his heart. She could feel its steady beat beneath her palm, strong yet slightly erratic, as if battling unspoken turmoil."I don't want to go to university," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.Vikrant's relaxed expression tensed instantly. A deep frown etched across his forehead as his fingers, which had been gently tracing her back, stilled.He tilted his head down to look at her. " Why?"Without meeting his gaze, she replied-"Can you change my regular course to an open one? So that I can study from home?" Her voice was quiet, uncertain. "I don't want to attend classes."Vikrant's grip on her waist tightened slightly. He studied her face, noting the way her fingers fidgeted against his chest, the hesitation in her tone."Pari," he said firmly, tilting her chin up to make her look at him. "This isn't about studying from home, is it?"She averted her eyes again, unable to hold his intense gaze."You're scared," he stated, his voice gentler now. "Of what people will think. Of what they'll say."She bit her lip, saying nothing.His thumb traced slow, reassuring circles on her back. "If you truly want to study from home because it's what you prefer, then fine. But if you're running away from the world..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I won't let you."Her eyes flickered to his, startled.Pari swallowed, her fingers curling into the fabric of his duvet. "It's not that simple," she murmured.Vikrant sighed, shifting closer. "It is," he countered, his voice firm but not unkind. "You think I'll let anyone so much as whisper about you? If someone even dares to look at you the wrong way-" His jaw clenched, the promise of unspoken consequences lingering in his pause.She shook her head, " you can't control everything."Oh, of course I can- he said mentally.Pari exhaled softly, her fingers clutching his arm. "But I don't want people to talk," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want them to judge me."Vikrant's jaw clenched. His free hand lifted, gently cupping her cheek, tilting her face toward him. "Let them talk," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "They don't matter. The only thing that matters is what you want."She hesitated, uncertainty clouding her eyes. "And what if I want peace?"His fingers tensed against her skin. "Then I'll give you that too," he murmured. "Even if I have to destroy the entire world to do it."Pari swallowed, her heart pounding. There was something terrifyingly reassuring about the way he spoke, as if he truly could bend the world to his will. And maybe, just maybe, he could.Vikrant smiled, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against her skin."You are going to university. You will make friends. You will attend lectures and become a remarkable lawyer," he said, his voice unwavering.There was no hesitation, no doubt, just sheer conviction. As if her future was already set in stone, and he was merely reminding her of what she was destined to achieve.The weight of his trust settled over her like a warm embrace. It wasn't just a demand; it was faith that she could stand tall, carve her own path, and rise above her past." You want to own your parents' land, don't you?"She nodded slightly."Then, my baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead, "you can't get it just like that. If you want me to buy it for you, I surely can. But I want you to do it yourself. I want you to make your parents proud."Her breath hitched, but not because of his words, but because of the way he called her my baby.A warmth spread across her chest, and an undeniable blush crept onto her cheeks. She lowered her lashes, suddenly feeling shy under his unwavering gaze."I am not a baby," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.A deep, heartfelt chuckle rumbled from his chest before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer until she was completely enveloped in his warmth."Of course you are," he teased, resting his chin on the top of her head.⋆༺✷༻⋆Read in scrollstack as early access.