Nandini Murthy, short of breath, was in serious danger. Cornered in a dark alley. Cold edge of knife touched her pulsing throat. Entrapped between bricked wall and towering, strong body of that man who'd chased after her. His face was obscured in hoodie.

She was going to get murdered. Cut in pieces. Dumped in nearby river. Or trashcan.

She shivered.

And all for may be the solitaire ring shining on her ring finger. That's the only valuable she'd on her that might have enticed a professional thief into following her to this dark alley.

And it was the ring she'd fight for with her life–if that came down to it.

That man leaned closer, his knife pressing closer. Little more and he'd slit her throat.

But it wasn't the sole reason why Nandini felt her heart stop. Her breath catch.

Sharp ridges of his nose and jaw, illuminated in pale, dim flickering glow of street light. His scent, leather and musk and so masculine, was so familiar, Nandini could've wept if it hadn't made her blood run cold.

He'd found her.

Manik Malhotra had found her.

And there was nothing that could save her now.

“Got you, my wife.” Before she could register how she'd felt at his voice, his strong and veiny hand and exactly how she remembered it, shot out and covered her mouth with handkerchief he'd extracted from pant.

May be to quite her down.

But she wasn't making noise anyway.  Her voice box had leaped out of her gaping mouth and clattered right  there at her feet. She couldn't have screamed even if she tried. Not that anyone would have come for her rescue.

Chloroform took hold not long after.

Her legs wavered, vision blurred. Darkness closed over her like thick, angry, thundering clouds and she staggered.

Last thing she heard before slipping into abyss of darkness was, “where will you run now?”

And it'd have been enough to scare her shitless, out of her senses. Really.

If she wasn't already floating in valley of darkness light as feather.

When she regained conscious, she was aware of four things. She was bounded to metallic armchair. Overhead blub was low and shining so brightly, her head throbbed. Manik was leaning against stark white walls, his arms crossed, staring her with so much coldness she shivered. It was rather cold–

Nandini looked around.

White stark walls?

Her forehead creased.

She was in his torture, windowless vault.

Oh.

His pocket knife resting on metal table caught gleam of lightening. Nandini gulped, sweat pearled in her hairline. There was truly no where she could run from here.

She slumped in defeat.

"No one has ever walked out of here alive, much less on their own two feet." Manik’s voice droned in her ears and even though it was freezing–due to lack of proper ventilation vaults have extreme temperatures, either too frigid or too hot(he'd once told her and it worked in their favor), something warm uncoiled in pit of her stomach. " As you're already aware my wife, I don't change rules for anyone. Or do you think you'd be an exception?"

His eyes taunted her. That warm, gooey feeling was gone and she felt cold again. So cold her teeth threatened to fall off. Of course, she didn't believe he would spare her. Not after what she'd done.

She'd waved red flag at bull and was prepared for it to go trampling all over her now.

She only hoped he'd grant her death wish; she'd want to take her last breath in his powerful arms.

@ love-alphalit ✍︎