• AUTHOR'S POV •

"Oh, what happened? Didn't like seeing me with your wife, Rura?"

A raw, visceral rage, heavy and hot, floods Rudra's chest, pushing out every rational thought. His right hand curls into a fist so tight the knuckles whiten, a desperate, useless weapon against the glass separating them. "Leave her, Saarth.

Saarth gave a soft, theatrical whistle. "Oh, I won't." He strolled toward Saanvi, who lay like a discarded doll on the concrete. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small switchblade. He dropped to one knee beside her, a parody of a concerned lover, his knees pinning her unconscious legs.

"Saarth! Move the fuck away from her!" Rudra roared, the sound desperate, animalistic.

Saarth lifts his gaze, a cold, empty amusement glittering in his eyes as he meets Rudra's frantic stare. "Poor Rudra. You look so animalistic when you're helpless." He chuckles, a dry, joyless sound and then, with excruciating slowness, slides the knife's cool tip to Saanvi's neck. The casual cruelty of the gesture makes Rudra's face flush crimson, the blood rushing, a blinding, red haze of fury.

Saarth lets the knife pause, its sharp edge resting against the thin, delicate strap of her top, the small band of fabric that holds it all together. He drags it slightly downward, a fraction of an inch, and the strap begins to slide. "What if I cut it down?" he mocks and glanced around at the few guards who offered compliant laughs. "It will be a free show for all of us, don't you thin-"

Saarth's body goes rigid as a sudden, brutal force slams into his groin. He screams. His grip on the knife slackens. He looks down, his eyes wide and disbelieving, to find Saanvi's eyes now wide, cold, and entirely present staring back at him.

In one blur of motion, fueled by adrenaline and a primal rage that belied her previous unconsciousness, she twists her torso, bringing her knee up hard and fast into his crotch. As Saarth gasps and doubles over, the brief distraction allows her to seize his wrist. She twists it sharply, that forces a fresh howl from his throat and makes the knife clatter onto the cement. Before it can even settle, her hand shoots out, catching the hilt. She brings her leg up again, delivering a savage, focused kick in between his thighs again, using the momentum to shove his larger frame violently backward. Saarth collapses, sprawling on the floor.

She springs up, her chest heaving, holding the knife out in a defensive, ready stance. The circle of guards around them, caught entirely off guard by the sudden, ferocious counterattack.

Rudra, watching the whole sequence unfold on the screen with a sickening rush of shock, disbelief, stood utterly still. The rage was momentarily forgotten, replaced by a stunned, gaping admiration for the tactical, cold fury of his wife.

"You wanted a show, fucker? You're definitely getting one now." She keeps the knife point angled toward the concrete floor, staring down at Saarth. He's still on the cold concrete, groaning, his hands clamped between his thighs, a picture of pathetic agony.

In the observation room Rudra sees one of the guards take a quick, aggressive step toward her.

"No-" Rudra starts.

She shifts her weight, a subtle, balanced movement, and executes a sharp, low kick that catches the man on the shin, forcing a surprised grunt and making him stumble back half a step.

"She knows how to fight?" Rudra murmurs the question to himself.

The man recovers quickly, throwing a wild, heavy punch. Saanvi sways back, a fluid movement that avoids the blow by inches, the air rushing past her ear. She instantly counters, a short, sharp punch landing squarely on his jaw before the heel of her boot slams into his stomach.

The other men standing by watch the brief, brutal exchange in stunned silence. They expected a struggle, maybe a cry, but not this cold, focused competence. Saanvi isn't attacking with overwhelming force, she's defending, parrying every blow, using her opponent's mass and momentum against him.

Saarth, now leveraging his upper body to push himself onto his knees, scoffs. He fights his way to his feet, breathing heavily. "Move back!" he yells at the guard, his voice laced with humiliation and fury. The guard, looking confused but obedient, stops his hesitant attack and glares at Saanvi before retreating a few feet.

Rudra forces himself to pull his eyes away from the fight for a moment, his mind working on two desperate tracks at once. He starts to scan the old building around them, hunting for any structural detail, any identifiable landmark, anything that could give away their location. He knows he can't save her unless he finds her. His gaze flashes back to the Saanvi, frowning, settling on her left wrist, at the watch she wears.

"You're injured," the retreating guard mutters quietly to Saarth.

Saarth ignores him, his eyes blazing with a hatred that seems to burn away his pain. He starts to walk toward her. "I have the balls to face this pathetic woman even if I'm injured."

A low, scornful chuckle escapes Saanvi. "It takes a monumental lack of self awareness to talk about 'strength' after a simple knee bump from this 'pathetic woman' had you crying like your manhood just filed for resignation." She tilts her head, mocking. "They are just two useless lumps hanging there, as weak as your brain."

Saarth's face, already flushed with exertion and pain, deepened into a furious crimson.

"You should thank me, Saarth, I just helped you discover how fragile your pride really is." She pauses, her eyes flicker down to his injured stance before meeting his gaze again with a savage glint. "Next time maybe wear a helmet down there."

"You've got a lot of mouth for someone who's kidnapped and surrounded by men."

Every head, including Saanvi's, snaps toward the entrance. She grits her teeth. "That's the whole point, Yashwant," she counters. "You need this whole pathetic gang just to hold one woman. That tells me exactly where the real power is."

Yashwant stops a few feet away, leaning back against a rusted filing cabinet. He offers a smile. "You are such a perfect copy of Anubhav. The stubbornness, the quick, stupid mouth, you never did learn to assess a situation before talking yourself into a hole."

She gives a small shrug. "Thanks. That's the highest compliment I could ever get."

Yashwant's eyes drift upward to the monitor where Rudra is watching. "You're supposed to be protecting her, Rudra. Why don't you tell her to show some respect? If she were to bow to me now, I might consider letting her live with only minor damage."

Rudra's face tight mask of internal panic. He keeps his phone hidden, his thumb desperately inputting the G-22V activation code for the tracker in Saanvi's watch, praying for confirmation.

"First of all," Saanvi says. "I don't need a man to protect me." she glances deliberately around the circle of mens, letting her eyes rest on each one before returning to Yashwant. "Second, I was eight when my father told me to never bend the knee for a man. If someone needs to bow, make sure it's them."

Yashwant gives a chilling smile. "And that's precisely why this cost your mother her life." His voice drops to a cold whisper. "You saw it all, Saanvi, didn't you? Me, and my other two men-"

"Yashwant! Stop! Don't you dare!" Rudra's screams, desperate shriek that cuts over the speakers.

The mention of her mother shatters Saanvi's composure. Her eyes instantly blur with tears. She squeezes her eyelids shut for a brief, agonizing second, but refuses to let the tears fall.

Yashwant watches the reaction, a flicker of satisfied cruelty in his eyes. He glances back at the screen where Rudra is openly weeping. "It was brutal, I know. But common, Saanvi, I gave many chances to you, I told you to go back to New York. You thought your husband was some kind of shield. But we can stop this. You don't have to end up like her. Just do what I say. Okay?"

Saanvi's eyes stay fixed on his, swimming with unshed tears, her face pale and utterly still. She doesn't speak.

"Yashwant, please. I'll step back. I'll leave you alone. Just let her walk away." Rudra pleads desperately, terrified by the sudden vulnerability in his wife's face.

Yashwant ignores the voice from the speaker, focusing solely on the silent woman in front of him. "Come to me, Saanvi. Don't be difficult now. Come on, obey me like the good, smart girl you are." He holds out his hand, an offering of false salvation.

Saanvi stands motionless for a long moment. Then she takes a small step toward Yashwant. Yashwant's face relaxes into a look of satisfied, repulsive triumph. Saarth smirks, the pain in his groin briefly forgotten in the face of her apparent defeat. Rudra's stomach drops out from under him, a sickening plunge into despair.

She stops directly in front of Yashwant, her eyes fixed on his chest. Yashwant lifts a finger, his fingertip tracing a sickening path near her cheekbone, near where the tears are already gathering. "If only your mother had shown this much sense that day. She'd be alive now, just like you're about to be."

A single tear slips, tracing a path down her cheek. She lowers her gaze, watching the concrete. "Come closer," Yashwant orders softly. She takes a tiny step forward. "Now, kneel."

Rudra's teeth grind. "I'll fucking carve you up, Yashwant, if you talk to her like that!"

Yashwant raises a brow at the speaker, unconcerned. "We'll see, Rudra." He looks back at her. "Come on, Saanvi. Kneel."

She swallows hard, still looking down. She gives a small nod.

The smirk is fully in place when Yashwant's body suddenly jerks rigid. The smile evaporates, replaced by a look of bewildered, intense agony. He stares down at his chest, where a dark stain is rapidly blooming around a sharp, silver object lodged deep near his rib cage. Her face now raised, is holding the knife. She looks up at him, her eyes red from unshed tears, yet cold and utterly merciless. With a short, powerful yank, she rips the blade free.

The other guards instinctively step forward, guns twitching, but Yashwant raises a trembling palm, stopping them.

"Dr. Saanvi," she whispers, leaning into his face so only he can hear the words that claw their way out of her throat. "Daughter of Dr. Suhana Malhotra. Daughter of the woman who fought till her last breath."

In a blur, she drives the butt of the knife handle straight into the fresh wound. Yashwant lets out a strangled, visceral hiss of pain, instinctively releasing his hold on the gun. She snatches the gun and steps back, leveling the weapon at his chest.

"If my mother didn't bow to you," she yells, the tears now streaming freely. "What makes you think her daughter would? You pathetic piece of garbage. I'd take a bullet with dignity before kneeling for your kind."

Rudra stares, breathing heavily, a soundless scream lodged in his chest. He feels a terrifying, overwhelming admiration. She is powerful, more than he ever knew.

Yashwant, clutching his side and still hissing in pain, forces a shaky chuckle. "Well, she did beg, Saanvi," he manages. "When you ran out, she was holding my leg, crying like a mess, begging me to let you go."

Her grip tightens on the trigger, her fingers shakes as the final, devastating piece of the memory clicks into place.

"And remember, you're a doctor," he mocks, staggering slightly. "You can't take a life. Drop the gun." He holds his hands up in a gesture of false surrender. "Besides, your mother also aimed a gun at me that day, right before-"

He never finishes. The bullet cracks, hitting his right shoulder. He drops to his knees with a guttural scream, clutching the wound, his face a mask of shock and pain.

In that instant of chaos, three guards tackle her. She's yanked backward roughly by her hair, her neck snapping back, the gun torn from her hand. She doesn't fight the pull, but her eyes never leave Yashwant.

She smiles then, a cold, brutal curve of her lips. "Look who's kneeling now, Yashwant."

"Restrain her! This bitch is out of control!" He screams, his voice high-pitched with agony and fury.

She laughs. "You know who my father-in-law is? Abhiraj Singhania," she states. Yashwant, despite his shock and pain, looks up at her, confused. "Oh, I won't spoil the fun, but he's the one who trained me." Her eyes flick to Saarth. "Ask your son. He wanted a show. He got it."

He grits his teeth, pushing himself up, leaning heavily on a guard. "Make sure her screams are loud enough for me to hear," he snarls, clutching his bloody shoulder, and stumbles toward the exit.

Rudra watches, his blood boiling, as Saarth approaches her. She is pinned between two large men, a third standing sentry behind them. The moment Saarth is within reach, Saanvi executes a desperate, unexpected move. Using the men holding her for momentary leverage, she pushes off the ground, bringing her knee up and slamming the heel of her boot directly against Saarth's chest. The impact makes him grunt and stumble back, momentarily disrupting the grip of the men holding her.

She spins, driving a sharp elbow into the stomach of the man on her right. She manages to block a clumsy fist, but the adrenaline is gone. She begins to gasp, clutching her ribs, swallowing hard as she fights for air.

​"Saarth, please, stop them," Rudra pleads in terror. He watches Saanvi swallow hard, stopping her defense entirely, her body heaving as she fights for air.

​"Why?" Saarth spits, rubbing his sternum. "You were so proud watching her play the hero." He lunges, grabs a fistful of her hair, and shoves her, slamming her over a nearby iron table. She collapses onto it, a soundless cry escaping as she instinctively clutches her abdomen.

​She pushes herself back up, turning to face him, intending to shove him back, but Saarth moves faster, delivering an open handed slap that snaps her head sideways and sends her sprawling back onto the metal table.

Saarth! You fucking coward, I'm going to peel the skin from your bones!" Rudra screams, the sound tearing out of his throat, raw and violent. He slams his fists against the projector screen, his vision blurring with tears and rage. He is consumed by a visceral, blinding need to reach through the barrier and dismember the man on the other side.

​Saarth grins, feeding off Rudra's torment. He pulls Saanvi's hair again and drags her head to the nearest concrete pillar and slams it against the rough surface. A muffled, tearing scream escapes her lips.

​"Saarth, stop! Please, just stop!" Rudra wails, his body shaking uncontrollably as he breaks down completely.

​The conference hall doors fly open. Abhimaan and Avyaan charge in, stopping short at the sight of Rudra weeping and shaking in front of the violent image.

​"Saarth, let her go! What the hell are you doing?!" Abhimaan barks, instantly moving to Rudra's side.

​"We have your guy. He couldn't make it out. He's our hostage, Saarth, back off," Avyaan says, trying to inject a cold, tactical threat into the chaos.

Saarth scoffs, still breathing hard, and shoves Saanvi roughly onto the floor. "Kill him. I couldn't care less. What matters is that Saanvi is still my hostage." He looks straight at Rudra, who is desperately trying to focus on Saanvi's bloodied face. He deliberately putting his shoe on her calf, and digs his heel deep into her muscle. A guttural shriek rips out of Saanvi.

​"Saarth, stop!" Rudra cries. "Please, I beg you!"

​"That hurts, right?" Saarth says, lifting his foot but hovering over her. "Alright, let's make a deal, I'm giving you a way out. Say you hate Rudra. Say you despise him so much you want him dead. Tell him he's a weak, pathetic man you regret marrying."

​Rudra watches, swallowing convulsively, tears wetting his shirt.

Saanvi slowly moves her head to the side, looking directly at the screen. Her eyes are fighting to stay open. "I..." she whispers, pulling in a ragged breath. "I... don't hate him."

​Rudra closes his eyes, shaking his head furiously. "Say what he's saying, please Pearl. I want you safe, please."

​Saarth whistles and sweeps the hair from her face. "See? He's asking you to."

​She manages to hold Rudra's gaze through the lens. A tiny, painful smile touches her lips. "He's the strongest man I know. My eyes... always want to see him. I'll never hate Rudra."

Avyaan and Abhimaan stare, stunned, from Saanvi's battered body to Rudra's tear soaked, broken face.

​Saarth lets out a short, incredulous chuckle, the last of his patience snapping. His fingers wrap around her throat and he squeezes, hard.

​"Saarth, stop it!" Avyaan screams, finally breaking his paralysis.

"I'll do anything! Anything! Stop! Please, God, stop!" Rudra screams, his voice cracking with pure panic as he watches Saanvi's face turn crimson, tears leaking from her pressed eyes, her hands feebly clawing at the thick fingers around her windpipe.

"Kneel. Beg for your wife, Rudra. On your knees, now." Saarth snarls the command, releasing her bruised throat only to seize a handful of her hair, yanking her head back viciously. The sudden, agonizing pull forces a raw shriek of pain from Saanvi.

"No... Rudra, don't! Don't you dare beg!" she screams, fighting the grip.

But Rudra is already gone, his resolve annihilated. He collapses, dropping onto his knees before the flickering screen. "Please. Just let her go. I'm begging you, Saarth I'll do anything, please just don't hurt her." he cries. Abhimaan and Avyaan look away from Rudra.

Saarth's mouth stretches into a slow, satisfied grin.

"Rudra! Get the fuck up! I'm still fighting and you're humiliating yourself for this piece of filth!" she yells.

Saarth chuckles. "And you were doubting my manhood."

"I still doubt it, motherfucker," she spits, the slur coated in venom. "Because if he were here, a real man, he would have chopped off those glorified chicken nuggets you call balls and shoved them right up your shit hole mouth for laying a finger on me."

Saarth's face instantly floods with blood, a toxic mix of wounded pride and rage. He swings his open hand, delivering a sickening slap that snaps her head to the side.

"Saarth, I've already begged! Now stop fucking touching her!" Rudra roars, the begging curdling back into a furious, guttural threat.

She laughs, a short, humorless choke and looks up at Saarth, her eyes narrow and cold despite the tears. "Why get so touchy, Saarth? Looking at your face, anyone can tell you spend your free time sucking dicks and eating balls to feel like a man. Why get offended when I point out the obvious?"

Before his hand can move again, she drives her head forward from her pinned position, smashing her forehead against his nose. He staggers back, howling, his hands flying to his broken nose. He retreats several steps, whimpering in agony, staring at Saanvi's battered body on the concrete.

"Tie her up. I'm leaving," he mutters, his voice muffled by the blood pouring from his nose, and he stumbles toward the exit.

"Pearl... hold on. I'll find you," Rudra whispers to the screen.

She looks into the camera, her breathing heavy, a weak, fierce smile spreading across her swollen lips. "Looks like you'll die before I will."

Rudra's body shakes hard with renewed, helpless cries.

Suddenly, the image cuts out. The connection is severed. Rudra stares at the blank screen, scrubbing the tears and snot from his face with the heel of his hand.

"Kabir pinged the G-22V. We have the location," Avyaan says looking at his phone.

Rudra surges to his feet, the humiliation and grief instantly replaced by a cold, deadly clarity. He wipes his face once, sharply. He stares down at the phone, the location transmitted by the tracker a tiny, relentless red beacon on the map.

"That's nearly seven hundred kilometers from here," Abhimaan states, leaning in. "We'd lose too much time on the road."

Rudra's hand immediately dials a number. "Vedant. I need the G650 airborne in fifteen minutes. Now." He ends the call without waiting for confirmation, his eyes locking onto Avyaan. "Tell the extraction team to prepare for immediate insertion-"

"Silas has them prepped. I alerted him when the coordinates came through," Avyaan cuts in. "They're waiting at the hangar."

"Let's go." Abhimaan urges, already turning toward the door.

------------

Saanvi is a wreckage of aches and bruises, lying on the cold concrete. Her wrists tightly bound behind her back, her ankles secured. She twists, straining against the ropes, a sound of frustrated, muffled agony escaping her lips when the restraints refuse to budge. The room was quiet, the guards outside merely indistinct murmurs.

She shuts her eyes, fighting the throbbing in her heart.

"But OG, what am I supposed to do with this weird training? I'm not exactly planning on getting taken hostage," she gripes seated on a gym mat, securing a rope around Abhiraj's wrists behind his back.

"Shut your mouth. You don't get to choose the scenario, only how you survive it," he snaps making her roll her eyes. "Now, watch. If you're tied in front, you use your teeth. But tied behind your back..." He settles onto the mat. "You have to find enough give to pull your hands down past your hips."

He demonstrates, grunting softly as he forces his tied hands down toward his lower back. "Now, after that, you use your legs. You have to pull the tied wrists forward, over your feet." He pulls one leg up, then the other, forcing his body to contort as he maneuvers his bound hands over his heels. Finally, with a sharp, controlled movement, he pulls his arms forward, the rope now resting right in front of his face. "There. Now the tie is in front. You can open it."

"That's insane," she says, genuinely awestruck.

"It's not easy," he warns, then uses his teeth to quickly work the knot loose. "You need to be flexible. If your core is stiff, you'll never manage the movement. To get that flexibility, you need to-"

"Exercise," she finishes for him, letting out a heavy, sarcastic sigh and wrinkling her nose. "What an exhausting excuse to make me work out."

"Shut up! Get back to exercise!" he bellows.

She ignores the pain in her ribs and her wrist abrasions. She focuses her energy, twisting her shoulders and hips, beginning the slow, deliberate work of stretching and maneuvering her bound hands down, inch by agonizing inch, toward her feet. Tears of pure frustration leak from her eyes. She tries again, the movement a controlled spasm of pain and effort.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, she feels the ropes slip down. With a swift, practiced movement, she forces her legs up and over, and her bound wrists appear in front of her face.

"I'm definitely thanking you for those stupid exercises and all that running," she murmurs, a small, genuine relief in the acknowledgment. Working methodically, she picks at the knot with trembling fingers, and after a few minutes, the rope comes loose from her wrists, then her ankles.

She pushes herself up, leaning heavily on the wall, clutching her chest. The pain was sharp but she swallows, forcing the sensation down, and moves toward the window she first saw. She peeks out. Outside, the rear of the building is just a vast, lightless void, save for a single, weak bulb high above. She steps up onto the sill and drops down, her boots making a soft thud on the dirt. She rubs her hands together, flexing her stiff fingers, and begins to creep toward the front and moves quickly to the corner, peeks around, and curses softly. Seven or eight men are visible, clustered around the front entrance and a couple of trucks.

She circles to the other side of the building. Here, she finds only one man, slumped deeply in a wooden chair, his head leaned back, snoring softly. Her gaze locks onto the edge of a phone visible in the pocket of his shirt.

She takes a ragged breath, rubbing her chest to soothe the increasing pain, trying.

She moves toward him in slowly, her trembling hands reaching toward the phone. The man's head twitches on his shoulder. She freezes, her stomach dropping, prepared to strike, but he settles back into sleep. With care, she slips the phone out and retreats to the shadow of the wall.

Clutching the phone, she leans against the rough surface, tears stinging her eyes as the pain in her heart sharpens, making it difficult to pull a full breath. She switches on the phone, praying silently. The screen lights up, it's unlocked. A small, desperate victory lights up her eyes.

"She ran away! Find her right now!"

The enraged bellow from inside the warehouse sends a jolt of pure panic through her. She looks at the dense, black forest ahead, her only option. She bolts, disappearing into the cover of the trees. After a few breathless minutes of stumbling, she collapses by a thick tree trunk, sitting down hard and pulls out the phone and immediately dials Rudra's number.

-------------

On the jet, Rudra's hands clamped over his hair, his face ravaged by grief and anxiety. Avyaan and Abhimaan watch him with strained expressions, while Kabir sits across from them.

"Rudra, calm down. Nothing will happen to Doctor." Kabir says, sounding confident, and looks up from his phone. "I have a Plan B-"

"Shut up, Kabir," Abhimaan snaps, his nerves frayed. "We're already tensed. Don't add more."

"But at least listen to me-"

Rudra's phone cuts him off. He pulls it from his pocket, sees the unknown number and answers immediately.

"Rudra..."

"Pearl!" Rudra yells her name desperately.

All three men immediately go still, their eyes locked on Rudra.

"Rudra..." Saanvi says again, then stops, pulling in a harsh, painful breath.

"Pearl, what's wrong? Are you bleeding? Where are you hurt?" He asks, the fear making his voice crack.

"My chest... it's hurting. A lot. I couldn't get my meds and..." She breaks off, a weak sob catching in her throat.

Rudra swallows, tears welling up in his own eyes. "Do you have the pendant with you?"

She looks down at the pearl pendant dangling from her neck, clutching it. "Yes. I have it."

"Take that Pearl and twist the upper side of it." he instructs.

She wedges the phone between her ear and shoulder, her trembling fingers finding the tiny setting. She twists, and the upper half of the pearl pops open like a small cap. Inside, perfectly concealed, is a tiny pill. Her eyes blur with tears of disbelief.

"Take it. It's your heart medication."

She swipes the tears away, retrieves the pill, and swallows it quickly.

"It wasn't like this before," she whispers.

"I know," Rudra whispers back, sniffing hard, fighting his own tears. "I modified it a few days ago. Because you're infuriatingly stubborn. I knew if you ever got caught up in something, or just skipped them because you were 'fine' I wouldn't be there to force you. I couldn't risk losing you because of your damn stubborn behaviour. It was the only way to make sure you were protected, even from yourself."

"Rudra..." she sobs. "I'm really scared. It's so dark here." She mutters, her eyes darting nervously into the inky blackness surrounding the trees.

"Look up, Pearl. Do you see the moon?" he asks drawing her attention away from the immediate fear.

"Yes," she replies.

"The moonlight is there. It's reaching you in the dark. Focus on that light, not the shadows." She tilts her head back, and indeed, she sees the silvery moonlight filtering through the leaves, chasing away the absolute black.

"Don't worry. I know exactly where you are. We're on our way. Just a little longer, and I'll be there to hold you," he whispers softly. "Stay safe until then."

She wipes her wet cheek with the back of her wrist, nodding against the phone. "Yes. Please, be fast."

"I will be."

The crunch of footsteps nearby snaps her attention back to the present. She tenses, her body instantly alert.

"Rudra, I'm hanging up. I think they're coming."

"Wait! Where are you? You're not still inside with them?" he demands.

"I ran away," she mutters, and without waiting for a reply, she ends the call and bolts deeper into the trees.

While running, she trips, the stolen phone slipping from her grasp. She stops, about to backtrack for it, but then she sees him a man, a guard, appearing through the trees, scanning the area with his flashlight. Her eyes widen in panic. She ducks and throws herself behind a large, moss covered stone.

She glances at the phone lying exposed on a bed of dry leaves and curses under her breath, the footsteps are getting closer. Pushing off the stone, she runs further, leaving the light of the warehouse far behind.

She halts abruptly as two men appear in front of her looking in opposite direction. She swallows and backs up until she feels the hard, rough bark of a tree pressing against her spine.

Before she could react, a hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, which had been resting on the tree trunk. She's yanked viciously behind the tree and slammed against the bark. She opens her mouth to scream, but a palm covers it, silencing her.

The two approaching guards pause, alerted by the subtle disturbance.

She forces her eyes open, blinking against the fear, and finds herself locked onto a pair of intense green eyes. They stare back at her from behind a black tactical mask, the only skin visible around the edges of the dark hoodie pulled low over the person's head. The eyelashes are remarkably thick. She glances down, taking in the silhouette, oversized hoodie, jeans, heavy boots, and gloved hands.

For a moment, she thinks of Silas, recognizing the unusual green irises. But the resemblance ends there. The build is wrong, leaner, and the entire posture suggests someone younger, more coiled.

Who's this man? She thinks.

The masked figure places his gloved index finger over her mouth, a silent, absolute command to stay quiet.

"So here you are."

She flinches violently and twists her neck to see the two guards flanking the tree, flashlights cutting through the dark, having just discovered the hiding spot.

The masked man moves instantly, pulling Saanvi tight against his back for a shield, then lunging out from behind the tree. He delivers a brutal snap kick to the side of one guard's knee. Before the man can collapse, the masked figure has the second guard's arm twisted high and an elbow jammed into his ribs.

Saanvi, breathless and stunned, watches silent fight. After only a few seconds, the first guard suddenly crumples to the ground, his body going slack and still. Then, the second man, who was struggling against the green eyed figure's hold, also slumps and fell without a sound.

She walks tentatively toward the masked man, stopping beside him to look down at the two inert figures. Her eyes widen in a new kind of horror. A thin line of white, foamy fluid is leaking from the corners of both men's mouths. A gasp escapes her, and she clamps a hand over her mouth, staring at the strange, sudden toxicity. "What the hell was that? Did they... did something bite them?"

The green eyed man ignores the question, subtly adjusting his gloves. His cold, piercing eyes meet hers. He takes a step closer. She swallows, recoiling, but he grabs her wrist and pulls her firmly to his side.

"What the fu-" she begins, but cuts off as he bends low, lifting her right foot and resting her boot on his thigh. She frowns, thoroughly confused and defensive.

"What are you doing now?" she demands.

He doesn't answer, his gloved fingers work quickly near the heel of her boot, and he pulls out a tiny, black square chip. He places her foot back on the ground, holding the chip between his thumb and index finger.

"So that's why they kept finding my location," she mutters and looks up at the masked man, feeling the distinct impression that he is smirking beneath the mask.

He rips the fragile chip in half, drops the pieces, and then points a gloved finger into the deep expanse of the forest.

She follows the line of his finger, then looks back at him. "You want me to go that way? Is there an actual road out there?" she asks, her eyes narrowed with distrust.

He gives a single nod.

She hesitates, trying to gauge if this strange, efficient killer is an ally or just another danger.

Suddenly he moves, taking a step closer and leans in, closer than necessary, and presses his masked lips briefly against her cheek.

Her eyes explode in shock and rage. She violently shoves him away "Asshole! What the hell was that? I'm married! My husband will absolutely destroy you for that!" she scoffs, wiping her cheek furiously.

A silent snort of amusement seems to escape the mask. He tilts his head in a clear mockery of a shrug and traces a gloved finger along her jawline.

Saanvi slaps his hand away. "Fine. I'm going that way." With a final, horrified glance at the two silent, foaming bodies, she turns and bolts into the dense forest in the direction he indicated.

She glances back while running, expecting him to follow, but the green eyed man has vanished. There is nothing but shadows and the silent forest. She runs harder, alone again.

She finally breaks free of the forest cover and stops, hunched over, breathing in frantic, painful gasps. Ahead, she sees the dim, scattered lights of a small village. A profound sigh of relief escapes her. She was about to take her first step toward it when a cold shiver races down her spine.

She whirls around when a powerful grip clamps down on her arm, and a searing, sharp pain explodes in her lower abdomen.

Her eyes meet Saarth's, they are cold, utterly devoid of emotion, and dreadfully close. Her gaze drops instantly. Below the grip on her arm, dark, warm blood is already seeping through her top, dripping down where he stabbed her.

A muffled cry chokes in her throat. She pushes at him with the last shred of her energy and stumbles forward toward the lights of the village.

"Poor girl," Saarth mocks. He catches up to her in two long strides and delivers a hard push. She collapses onto the dirt with a painful groan.

"Let's go, Saanvi," he says, leaning down to grab her. In that desperate second, her hand sweeps blindly across the ground, connecting with something rough and heavy, a stone, she lifts it and brings it down, slamming it against the side of his eye socket.

Saarth yells, straightening instantly, one hand clamping over his face. He stumbles back, hissing in pain. She drives the stone down again, crushing his foot with brutal force. He lets out a strangled sound, hopping back.

Clutching the knife wound with one hand, she forces herself onto her feet and runs, stumbling toward the village lights.

She reaches the edge of the houses, a quiet, dark area. She scans frantically for any sign of a person, a light, a noise but sees nothing. Then, her gaze locks on a familiar guard positioned near the main street. Her eyes widen. She pivots and veers left, spotting a small structure tucked beneath a large banyan tree, a temple.

The air smells of incense and marigolds. It's a simple Ganesh temple, decorated with beautiful garlands. She glances back then stares at the temple, her breath catching.

"You took my mumma away! I will never worship you! I won't ever step foot in your temple!"

Tears blur her vision as she stares at the sculpture of Lord Ganesha inside, the god she blamed and abandoned the day her mother died.

------------------

"Landing in less than ten minutes, Rudra," Abhimaan informs Rudra.

Rudra's shoulders rise and fall with a deep, shaky breath, his gaze fixed on the lights of the world below.

"I think we should also call an ambulance, immediately," Kabir states, his eyes fixed on the critical data on his tablet.

"He's right," Abhimaan quickly agrees. "She was already struggling with her heart condition, and she's injured too."

Rudra closes his eyes for a brief and nods. "Yes, you're right." He immediately drops a rapid text message to Vedant, adding the new, urgent directive.

He stares out of the jet, watching the lights of the distant village grow larger, rushing toward them. He swallows, the physical action a rough catch in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs in a terrifying, erratic rhythm. The reality of her pain, of the blood he saw on the screen, is a vise around his chest.

Just be safe, Pearl.

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