“Hukum… the men who caused trouble have been caught.”
The words didn’t echo.
They settled.
Heavy. Controlled. Measured—just like everything inside the Rathore mansion.
Rudraveer Singh Rathore stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the quiet stretch of the city below. The lights flickered in the distance—alive, unaware.
His reflection stared back at him through the glass.
Still.
Unmoving.
Unbothered.
His fingers rested lightly against the surface.
Not tapping.
Not tightening.
Just… there.
“And?”
One word.
Flat.
Unhurried.
Behind him, the guard straightened instantly.
“They’re secured, sir. Awaiting your orders."
Silence followed.
Not uncomfortable.
Not uncertain.
Just—
Expected.
Rudraveer didn’t turn immediately.
He let the moment stretch.
Let the weight settle.
Then slowly—
He turned.
“And my dearest rival?” he asked, voice low, almost thoughtful.
A pause.
“How is Vikram Pratap Rao doing these days?”
No one answered.
No one dared to.
Because this wasn’t a question.
It was a reminder
A faint curve touched Rudraveer’s lips.
Not a smile.
Never a smile.
“Make sure he’s alive.”
The guard blinked.
Just once.
“I don’t want him dead,” Rudraveer continued, stepping forward now. Each step slow. Precise. Calculated.
“Not yet.”
His gaze darkened.
“Death is mercy.”
A beat.
“I’m not that kind.”
The words didn’t rise.
Didn’t sharpen.
Yet they settled deeper than anything loud ever could.
“I want him to watch,” he added quietly.
“As everything he built… falls.”
The room didn’t breathe.
“Understood, sir.”
The guard left.
Quick.
Silent.
“Booooosssss—”
The sudden voice shattered the tension like glass.
Shashwat walked in, tablet in hand, completely unaware—or simply unbothered—by the atmosphere he had just interrupted.
“Update.”
Rudraveer didn’t look at him.
“Bol.”
“Vikram Rao is hosting a party tonight,” Shashwat said, scrolling casually. “Big one. Political crowd, business heads… media. Full power show.
Rudraveer picked up his watch.
Fastened it.
Calm.
Precise.
“Celebration?” he asked.
“Looks like it,” Shashwat shrugged. “But honestly? Feels more like a display. ‘Dekho hum kitne strong hain’ type.”
A faint pause.
Then—
Rudraveer’s eyes lifted.
“Perfect.”
Shashwat blinked.
“Perfect?”
A small smirk.
Sharp.
Controlled.
“Unko lagta hai sab unke control mein hai…”
Rudraveer picked up his coat.
“Let’s remind them.”
He walked ahead.
Stopped.
Turned slightly.
“Waise bhi…” he added, voice dry, “pehli baar tune kuch sahi bola.”
Shashwat froze.
“Sir main toh hamesha—”
“Ab kya invitation du?” Rudraveer cut him off, tone suddenly dramatic.
“Chal na mere bhai.”
Shashwat blinked again.
Still processing.
Still buffering.
“Prepare the car.”
Flat again
“Sir… ek second—sir kya aap woh karne wale ho jo main soch raha—”
Too late.
Rudraveer had already walked out.
Shashwat stared at the empty doorway.
“…yup.”
A deep sigh escaped him.
“Hey Bhagwan… iss kadus aadmi ko toh—chhodo…” he muttered, rubbing his face.
“…bas un logon ko bachaa lena inse.”
“SHASHWAT!”
“AA RAHA HOON!” he yelped, instantly sprinting.
“Pehle mujhe bachao inse!”
----🌕----------🌑---------------🌒
Rao Palace — Night
The palace didn’t shine.
It glowed.
Golden lights wrapped around towering pillars.
Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead.
Soft classical music blended seamlessly with polite laughter and measured conversations.
Everything was—
Perfect.
Polished.
Controlled.
Exactly how Vikram Pratap Rao liked it.
At the center of it all—
He stood.
Still.
Composed.
Watching.
Always watching.
“Security check?” he asked quietly.
“Done.”
Aadarsh Rao didn’t move.
Didn’t need to.
Seated comfortably, he observed everything with sharp, experienced eyes.
Shourya, however, wasn’t calm.
His gaze kept shifting.
Doors.
Entrances.
Movement.
Patterns.
“I don’t like this,” he muttered.
Veer rolled his eyes instantly.
“Tu kab khush rehta hai? Tu aur tere senses…”
Shourya ignored him.
“Something’s off,” he said again.
Quieter.
More certain.
And then—
Darkness.
The lights went out.
Instantly.
Gasps erupted.
“What happened?!”
“Backup!”
“Security!."
Movement spread like panic.
Controlled chaos breaking into something real.
And in that exact moment—
Vikram’s voice cut through.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Unquestionable.
“Chandu ko maa ke paas le jao.”
A beat.
“Don’t let him see her.”
No explanation.
No hesitation.
Just instinct.
Shourya’s head snapped toward him.
“Him?
But Vikram didn’t answer.
Because he was already looking ahead.
Waiting
The darkness lasted only seconds.
But it was enough.
The lights came back instantly, flooding the hall in brightness, yet the silence that followed felt heavier than the darkness itself. Something had shifted. Not loudly, not visibly—but enough for everyone to feel it.
And then they saw him.
Seated beside Aadarsh Rao, as if he had always been there, as if he hadn’t just walked into enemy territory unnoticed, was Rudraveer Singh Rathore. He leaned back slightly, one arm resting along the sofa, posture relaxed… controlled. Aadarsh didn’t react immediately, but the faint shift in his gaze acknowledged everything.
“Aree, continue,” Rudraveer said calmly, his voice cutting through the silence. “Party rukni nahi chahiye. Especially humari show-off ki.”
No one moved.
Across the hall, Shourya reacted first. “Yeh yahan kya kar raha hai?” he snapped, already stepping forward. Veer caught his arm instantly. “Pagal ho gaya hai kya—”
“Chhod!” Shourya pulled away. “Main isse—”
“Sit down.”
Aadarsh’s voice was calm. Flat. Final.
Shourya froze.
Rudraveer watched, mildly amused. “Temper control kar, Shourya. Public place hai… chill.”
That only made it worse.
“Bas.”
This time, Vikram spoke. Low. Controlled. Enough to stop everything.
He walked forward slowly and stopped a few steps away. “Tu badla nahi hai, Rudraveer Singh Rathore.”
Rudraveer tilted his head slightly. “Time badalta hai, Vikram Pratap Rao.”
Their eyes locked.
“And yet,” Vikram continued, “some habits don’t. Jaise bina bulaye aa jaana?”
“Darwaze khule the,” Rudraveer shrugged lightly. “Your problem.”
Aadarsh finally spoke, calm as ever. “I see you didn’t come here for a party.”
“Observation achhi hai, uncle,” Rudraveer replied, his gaze moving slowly across the hall. “Lekin main dekhne aaya hoon… kitna strong hai aapka system.”
No one interrupted.
Because everyone understood—this wasn’t a visit.
It was a warning.
After a moment, Rudraveer stood. Effortless. Unhurried. “Enjoy the evening,” he said calmly, pausing just enough before adding, “jab tak chal rahi hai.”
The words lingered as he turned and walked away. People moved aside instinctively, making space without even realizing it.
At the far end of the hall, partially hidden behind a group of women, Chandrika Pratap Rao saw him for the first time. She stood still, quiet, unnoticed, her gaze fixed on him. There was no fear in her eyes, no anger—just curiosity.
“Maa…” she whispered softly, still looking at him, “woh kaun hai?”
“Humari problem,” Shourya answered sharply.
Her gaze flickered for a second… then returned to Rudraveer.
But he was already leaving.
Gone, just as quietly as he had arrived.
Slowly, the noise returned. Conversations resumed, music continued—but something had changed. Something permanent.
Later,
In her room, the silence returned to its usual place. The door closed softly behind her. 10:30. Her curfew.
She walked toward the window, resting her fingers lightly against the railing. The palace still glowed below, full of life—but it felt distant.
Her thoughts weren’t scattered tonight.
They were fixed.
On him.
“Maa ne uhne kyun nahi dekhne diya…” she murmured softly.
She sat down slowly, pulling her knees closer, replaying the moment again—the silence, the tension… and him.
“Woh itna alag kyun thae…”
Her fingers tightened slightly.
Downstairs, everything continued.
Up here, a question had begun.
Aur shayad… uska jawab ab un dono ki zindagi badalne wala tha.
“Us raat sirf ek aadmi mehfil mein nahi aaya tha…”
“…ek kahani shuru hui thi.”
“Aur is baar…”
“…kisi ko khabar bhi nahi thi ke woh kahan le jaayegi.”
___________🌕____________
Did only chandrika see him?
Does he even know she exists???
Spoiler
"Kyaaaa??!!"
"Abhiraj aur kiara neh abhi is umar meh...!!!!!!??"
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