The warm glow of the chandelier cast a soft golden hue across the dining hall as Rudraksh and Aarohi sat together, finishing their dinner. The air was quiet, peaceful, untouched by the storm waiting in the shadows.
Aarohi let out a small yawn, resting her elbow on the table as she gazed at Rudraksh with half-lidded eyes. She looked ethereal in her soft peach night suit, her long hair cascading down her back.
Rudraksh smirked, reaching out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. "Aapko neend aa rahi hai?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.
("Are you feeling sleepy?")
Aarohi nodded slowly, rubbing her eyes like a child. "Aapke bina neend nahi aayegi."
("I won’t be able to sleep without you.")
Rudraksh’s smirk softened into a tender smile. She had no idea that in a few hours, he would be stepping into a darkness she would never see. But for now, she was his light, and he wanted to cherish this moment.
He stood up and walked to her side, pulling her chair back. Before she could protest, he lifted her into his arms effortlessly.
"Rudra!" she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Shh… sirf aapko sochna hai ki aaj kitni achi neend aayegi," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
("Shh… you only need to think about how peacefully you’ll sleep tonight.")
Aarohi sighed, relaxing against his warmth, her fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt.
As they reached the bedroom, Rudraksh carefully laid her on the bed, pulling the blanket over her. He leaned down, brushing his knuckles against her cheek.
"Aapko pakka mere bina neend nahi aayegi?" he teased, his lips hovering just above hers.
("Are you sure you won’t be able to sleep without me?")
Aarohi blushed, turning her face slightly away. "Bilkul nahi…" she whispered.
("Not at all…")
Rudraksh chuckled before pressing a slow, lingering kiss on her forehead. "So jaiye, Aarohi."
("Go to sleep, Aarohi.")
She sighed contently, her fingers still loosely curled around his hand. Within moments, her breath evened out, lost in deep slumber.
Rudraksh stayed there for a few minutes, just watching her—memorizing her peaceful face, knowing that in a few moments, he would become the monster she never knew existed.
Slowly, he slipped his hand from her grasp, stood up, and disappeared into the night… heading toward the dungeon where only screams would echo.
The darkness in the dungeon was suffocating. The flickering flames of the torches barely lit the damp, stone walls, their light casting eerie shadows on the ground. The air reeked of blood, sweat, and decay—the scent of death that lingered over those who had begged for mercy but never received it.
Virendra Rathore hung limp from the chains bolted into the wall, his wrists raw and bleeding. His once-proud frame was now reduced to a battered corpse barely clinging to life. His face was swollen, one eye shut completely, dried blood crusting over his lips. But despite his half-dead state, his eyes still held defiance.
Footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate.
Rudraksh stepped in first, his face void of the love he had shown Aarohi just hours ago. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles cracking as he flexed his fingers, preparing for what was to come. The man who had once touched his wife, dared to harm her, was now nothing more than a living corpse waiting to be destroyed.
Behind him, Aarav, Raghav, and Shera followed, their faces masked with nothing but cold rage.
"Toh ab bhi saans le raha hai, ha?" Rudraksh’s voice was eerily calm as he crouched in front of Virendra.
("So, you’re still breathing, huh?")
Virendra lifted his head slightly, a broken chuckle escaping his lips. "Tum log... tum log sochte ho ki yeh sab mujhe tod dega?" he rasped, his voice hoarse from the pain.
("You think… you think this will break me?")
The first blow came like a storm.
Rudraksh’s fist crashed into Virendra’s jaw, the impact sending blood splattering against the stone wall. His head snapped to the side, but no scream left his lips.
"Cheh... ab bhi akad baki hai?" Aarav scoffed, rolling up his sleeves.
("Tch… still acting tough?")
Shera smirked darkly, stepping forward. He gripped Virendra’s hair, yanking his head back. "Aaru ko haath lagane wale haath ka kya karna chahiye, Boss?" he asked Rudraksh, his voice filled with sadistic amusement.
("What should be done to the hands that touched Aarohi, Malik?")
Rudraksh tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with murderous intent. Without a word, he grabbed a dagger from his belt.
The sharp blade glinted under the dim torchlight as he twirled it between his fingers. Then—he stabbed it clean through Virendra’s palm.
A guttural scream tore through the dungeon. Blood dripped onto the filthy floor, pooling beneath him. Virendra writhed, his body jerking violently, but the chains held him in place.
"Chillaya? Maine suna?" Aarav taunted, leaning closer.
("Did he scream? Did I hear that right?")
Virendra panted heavily, his body trembling. But he still chuckled through his pain. "Tum sab... tum sab uss ladki ke liye itna gir gaye ho..."
("All of you have fallen so low for that girl…")
Another punch. This time, from Raghav. The older man, usually composed, now looked like a beast unleashed.
"Woh ladki nahi, meri beti hai!" Raghav growled, his voice thundering through the dungeon.
("She is not just a girl—she is my daughter!")
Shera’ voice echoed through the chamber. He reached for an iron rod that had been heating in the flames nearby. The metal glowed a furious red.
Boss, abhi bhi akad baaki hai lagta hai," Shera muttered, tapping the hot iron against the stone wall. The heat made the air around it sizzle.
("Boss, he still seems to have some strength left.")
Rudraksh exhaled sharply. His patience was running out.
He took the iron rod from Shera—and without hesitation, pressed it against Virendra’s bare chest.
A horrific scream tore through the dungeon as the burning flesh sizzled, the unbearable stench of cooked skin filling the air. Virendra’s body convulsed violently, his screams turning into agonized gasps.
But Rudraksh wasn’t done. He leaned in, gripping Virendra’s jaw so tightly that his bones threatened to snap.
Virendra coughed, blood dripping from his lips. His defiance was breaking, his body surrendering to the agony. But Rudraksh wanted him to suffer more.
He stepped back, gesturing to Aarav. Aarav grinned, picking up a hammer.
"How dare you hurt my maaa" Aarav taunted, inspecting the hammer.
CRACK!
The hammer came down on Virendra’s fingers. Bones shattered. A blood-curdling scream echoed through the dungeon, but the Rathore men didn’t flinch.
One by one, Aarav shattered every single finger of Virendra’s right hand. By the end, his hand was nothing more than a mangled, lifeless mess.
The screams had stopped. Only ragged, choking sobs remained.
Rudraksh watched with cold satisfaction. This was justice. This was vengeance.
"Chhod do isse," Raghav finally spoke, his voice heavy.
("Let him go.")
Aarav frowned. "Bas? Abhi toh start tha..."
("That’s it? But we were just getting started…")
Rudraksh smirked, kneeling beside Virendra’s battered body. He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper.
"Marna sabko hai, par kisi kisi ko jeene ka shraap milta hai."
("Everyone dies… but some are cursed to live.")
With that, they left him there—half-dead, broken, and ruined.
For Virendra Rathore, death would have been mercy. But
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