AUTHOR'S POV
The five men were suspended from the ceiling by heavy chains, their bodies hanging at uneven angles. Bruises darkened their skin, clothes torn and soaked with sweat and blood, making it clear they had been beaten mercilessly. Some were barely conscious, heads drooping, breaths shallow, while others groaned softly, every movement sending pain through already broken bodies. The room smelled of iron and fear proof that whatever had happened here was far from gentle, and far from over.
Aviraj stepped closer, his presence alone heavy enough to crush the air in the room. He grabbed one of the men by the collar, forcing his head up. Before the man could even speak, Aviraj's fist crashed into his face, the sound echoing sharply.
"Tell me," Aviraj said coldly, his voice calm but deadly, "who sent you?".
"Answer, damn it.answer!", Aviraj snapped, his patience gone. The slap landed hard, snapping the man's head to the side. Chains rattled as the captive groaned, blood pooling at the corner of his mouth.
Aviraj leaned in, voice low and lethal. "I won't ask twice. Speak now, or you won't get another chance."
"Nobody sen...".
Before he could finish the sentence, Aviraj's fist crashed into him again. The man cried out, chains jerking as his body jolted from the impact.
Aviraj straightened slowly, his jaw clenched, eyes glacial. "Don't lie to me," he said, each word sharp and controlled. "I hate lies."
Aviraj tilted his head slightly, a cold, humorless smile touching his lips.
"Seems like you don't want to tell," he said calmly, though danger seeped through his voice.
"That's fine... we have all the time in the world, and trust me by the end of it, you will speak."
Aviraj straightened slowly and wiped his knuckles with a cloth, his expression unreadable.He glanced at his men and spoke in a low, controlled voice, "Bring it."
The room fell into a tense silence. Chains rattled softly as fear spread across the captive men's faces. One of them swallowed hard, eyes widening whatever Aviraj had ordered was clearly worse than the beating.
Aviraj took a step back, folding his arms, watching them closely.
"You still have a chance," he said coldly. "Talk... before I lose what little patience I have left."
" No please..... Don't.... Beat ..... Me more ," The man's voice broke, shaking with panic. " I'll tell you that who had sent us ".
Aviraj stopped mid-step. He lifted a hand, signaling his men to pause. The room went unnaturally quiet, the tension thick enough to choke.
"Good," Aviraj said calmly, almost softly. He tilted his head, eyes sharp and merciless. "Then speak."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
"Who sent you... and why?"
The chains creaked as the man nodded frantically, fear finally overpowering his loyalty.
The man finally broke. His head dropped forward as if the weight of the name itself crushed him.
"Ca....Carlo Gotti," he gasped, voice trembling. "Carlo Gotti sent us."
The room went dead still.
That name carried power and aura. Carlo gotti is the powerful italian mafia but Aviraj has no less position than him in fact he has more power than him .
Aviraj's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with something far more dangerous than anger. A slow, cold smile touched his lips not of amusement, but of promise.
"So," he murmured, straightening up. "He's brave enough to step into my territory now."
The man clenched his jaw, then finally spoke, fear dripping from every word.
"Because of Harshvardhan Rathod's empire," he said. "After his death, there's a power vacuum. Carlo Gotti wants control over the routes your men took over arms, money, ports."
He lifted his head slightly.
"He sent us to confirm if it was really you who's expanding into European territory. He wanted proof that you're the one filling Rathod's place... and to send a warning."
The room went silent.This wasn't personal.This was business.
And business meant war.
Aviraj's lips curved into a cold, humorless smile.
"A warning?" he repeated softly, eyes darkening.
The man swallowed hard. "Yes... Gotti wanted you to know that crossing into his territory won't go unanswered. He said this was just a message next time, it won't be men like us. It'll be blood on a much bigger scale."
The chains rattled as fear took over.
Aviraj straightened slowly.
"So he thinks I'm scared easily," he murmured. "Good. Let him keep that illusion."
Aviraj's voice dropped to a lethal calm as he turned to his man.
"Rohit," he said coldly, "give our guests some special hospitality my Deaguns style."
His eyes flicked back to the chained men.
"Don't kill them," he added after a pause. "Let them stay alive... just enough."
He straightened, authority radiating from him.
"Send them back after two days," Aviraj continued, a dark promise in his tone. "And make sure that bastard sees CLEARLY who Aviraj Ranawat is, and what happens when someone dares to warn me."
The room fell into a deadly silence.
Aviraj turned on his heel and left the basement, the screams fading behind him as the heavy door slammed shut. His footsteps echoed through the long corridor, slow and deliberate, every step carrying the weight of his rage and authority.
He climbed the stairs without looking back, his face cold, unreadable. By the time he reached his office, the blood and violence were already locked away behind his calm exterior. Pushing the door open, he walked in like a king returning to his throne mind already shifting from punishment to power, from enemies to the next move he had to make.
.
.
.
.
AVIRAJ'S POV
It's been ten days since I last went to her. Not because I felt mercy. mercy has no place in my world ,but because even broken things need time to stop bleeding. Time to heal... just enough.
Now, it's enough.
I rose from my chair slowly, my decision already made. The silence in my office felt heavy as I walked out, my footsteps steady, controlled. Every corridor I crossed reminded me that this place obeys me every wall, every door, every soul inside it.
I headed toward the room where I kept her. Captive. Safe. Trapped.
She won't be leaving that room. Not today. Not ever.
This isn't the end ,it's only the continuation of something she doesn't yet understand.
Aviraj's POV
I slowly pushed the door open.
She was sitting on the floor near the window, knees pulled close to her chest, staring outside as if the world beyond that glass still belonged to her. The light from outside brushed her face softly, making her look fragile too fragile for the storm she'd been dragged into.
For a moment, I didn't move. I just watched.
I knew exactly what thoughts were running through that little head of hers escape, hope, questions with no answers. The kind of thoughts people like me had killed long ago. She looked lost, distant, as if she was somewhere far away, clinging to memories that no longer mattered here.
"Oh," he said softly, mockery lacing every word, "my little wife is staring outside... still thinking there's a way to leave."
A slow, cold smile touched his lips.
"But dreams don't open doors," he added calmly, as if stating a simple fact.
She looked up at me, her eyes burning with something raw and fearless, and then she spoke-
"Go to hell."
For a second, I thought I'd imagined it.Did she really say that? Yes. I heard it perfectly.
A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at my lips, amusement mixing with disbelief. The nerve. The fire. Even standing where she was, broken and trapped, she still dared to look me in the eye and spit defiance at me.
Interesting.
"Such a sharp tongue for such a small mouth," I said calmly, my voice low and controlled. "But don't forget I have many ways to silence rebellion."
I held her gaze, letting the weight of my authority do the talking. Fear, anger, defiance .it all flickered across her face.
"So tell me," I said slowly, my voice unreadable, "my little wife... have you been comfortable here, or not?"
The question sounded calm, almost polite but beneath it lay a quiet threat, waiting for her answer.
"Comfortable?" she scoffed bitterly, her voice shaking with anger. "Comfortable my foot."
The words were sharp, filled with resentment and pain, leaving no doubt about how she truly felt.
I smirked at her response. No doubt about it , this little mouth of hers carried a sharp tongue, fearless even when it shouldn't be. That fire in her words didn't weaken her here; if anything, it made her defiance louder.
"So you weren't?" I asked, one brow lifting slightly, my tone calm but probing, as if I already knew the answer and was only waiting to hear her say it.
"Answer," I said quietly one single word, controlled and firm, carrying enough weight to demand a response without raising my voice.
"Of course my answer is no," she said, her voice steady despite everything. "Why would I ever feel comfortable in this hell of yours?"
The words came out sharp, honest, carrying all the pain and anger she'd been holding back.
I let out a low, devilish laugh, the sound echoing in the room.
"This is only the beginning, little wife," I said slowly, each word deliberate. "Just the beginning."
The room fell silent after his words, the air growing heavy and suffocating. Advika clenched her fists, refusing to let her fear show, even as her heart pounded painfully in her chest. She met his gaze defiant, unbroken letting him see that whatever this beginning was, she wasn't ready to surrender herself to it.