In the dimly lit VIP room, the heavy scent of expensive whiskey and stale smoke hung thick in the air. Kiaan lay sprawled across the plush bed, his breaths deep and uneven — completely lost in the haze of drunken unconsciousness. His muscles relaxed, vulnerable and unguarded, while the bruises and aches he'd ignore today whispered promises of pain tomorrow.
Reyaan stood by the door, eyes narrowing as he watched the boy he'd marked so brutally just weeks ago. A twisted satisfaction curled at the edge of his lips — the knowledge that Kiaan was here, beneath his roof, broken yet still breathing. Reyaan had watched from the shadows all night, waiting for this moment.
He approached quietly, crouching beside the bed and trailing his fingers lightly over Kiaan's bruised wrist, the tattooed name "Reyaan Malhotra" still vivid against pale skin. "You don't even know it was me yet," he murmured darkly, voice low and dangerous. "But you will. Tomorrow, when the pain wakes you — when every muscle screams in defiance — you'll remember."
A slow, cruel smirk spread across Reyaan's face as he gently adjusted the blankets, tucking Kiaan in as if he were a child. "You think you can poke the lion and walk away unscathed? You're already tangled in my world, and there's no escape now." His eyes glittered with cold fire — a promise and a threat all in one.
Reyaan stood, casting one last glance at the boy whose defiance had sparked this deadly game. "Sleep tight, captain. Tomorrow, we play for real."
With that, he slipped out silently, leaving Kiaan to the restless night, unaware that his tormentor was already weaving the next cruel chapter.