The bullet grazed the stranger's shoulder with surgical precision, the silencer turning the deadly shot into a mere cough in the dark.
The man holding me screeched, his grip loosening for a split second. That was all I needed. I slammed my heel into his instep and twisted away, but the stranger wasn't done. He lunged, his blade slicing through the air, catching the delicate silk of my emerald dress.
"I said—get away from her!" Advik roared.
He didn't fire again. He moved. He was a blur of shadows and rage, crossing the room in two strides. He grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him against the wall with such force that the plaster cracked. The sound of bone meeting stone echoed in the small room.
Advik didn't stop. His fist connected with the man's jaw, a sickening crunch filling the silence. He was no longer the calculated Architect; he was a butcher protecting his prize.
"Advik, stop! You'll kill him!" I screamed, my voice raw.
He froze, his fist pulled back for a final, lethal blow. His chest was heaving, his knuckles split and bleeding onto his white cuffs. He turned his head slowly, his eyes glowing with a primal, terrifying light I had never seen before.
He dropped the unconscious man like a piece of trash.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, stalking toward me. He didn't wait for an answer. His hands were all over me—checking my neck, my arms, his touch frantic and possessive. "Did he touch you? Did he hurt you, Ananya?"
"I'm fine," I gasped, my heart trying to escape my ribs. "But the phone... the message... he said you didn't have Ishaan. He said you were lying!"
Advik's hands stilled. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a wall of ice. He pulled back, his face hardening into the mask of the Mafia Don once again.
"He was right," Advik said, his voice a jagged edge.
The world tilted. "What?"
"I don't have your brother," he confessed, the words hitting me harder than any physical blow. "I never did. But the men who do have him? They've been waiting for you to leave your father's house. I didn't marry you to settle a debt, Ananya. I married you because my name is the only shield in this city strong enough to keep you alive."
"You lied to me," I whispered, tears finally stinging my eyes. "You let me hate you. You let me think you were the one hurting him!"
"I needed you to hate me," he stepped closer, his shadow pinning me against the door. "Hate is loud. Hate is predictable. If you had known I was trying to save him, you would have been weak. You would have made a mistake. And in my world, a mistake gets you a casket, not a crown."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the burner phone I had hidden. He snapped it in half with one hand, the plastic crunching effortlessly.
"The man on the floor? He works for the Singhals. They don't want the money, Ananya. They want the map your brother stole before he was taken. A map that leads to the Malhotra vaults."
He leaned down, his lips ghosting over mine, the scent of blood and sandalwood making my head spin.
"Tonight, the game changes. You aren't just my wife anymore. You're my partner in blood. Now, pick up your silk skirts, Jaan. We have a war to finish."
He grabbed my hand, his grip crushing and permanent. As he led me out of the blood-splattered room and back toward the glittering gala, I realized the terrifying truth.
I wasn't the Mafia's Princess. I was his Queen. And the real nightmare was only just beginning.