I truly hope you all will leave some inline comments (comments beside specific paragraphs or dialogues).

⭐I ask a question at the end of every chapter. If you want try to answer it.

Praveer

I’ve lost everything… or maybe I’m just afraid of losing what I never dared to claim. Why am I so scared to tell her what I feel?

Is it wrong… unethical? Maybe. Maybe it all began with good intentions..helping her feel safe, helping myself find my sister. That was the plan.

But now… it’s more. So.. much more.

And she..she loves me. I see it. I feel it in the way she looks at me, the way she waits, silently hoping.

She trusts me. And yet here I am, frozen, choking on my own fear like a coward.

Am I even responsible enough to be her husband? Can I protect her? Give her what she deserves?

But if she walks away now… if she really leaves…

I'll lose everything. Not just the hope of finding my sister. I'll lose the one person who is the only one I can tell ,mine .

My chest tightens. My breath stumbles. I slam my fist into the dashboard, the pain dull compared to what’s crushing me inside.

“Fuck…”

My vision blurs, not from the rain..but from my own damn eyes. I wipe them roughly and throw open the door. No more silence , because I have done enough pretending.

I run.

Out into the storm ,toward her. Toward whatever this is between us. Toward the one thing that might still be real.

If I’m going to burn for this… let me burn for love.

Let me be the sinner who found redemption in her.

Rain pours harder now, a curtain of silver crashing around us. My heart is slamming against my chest like it’s trying to escape.

But I don’t stop.

I can’t.

She’s walking away, Soaking wet and head down.

Not even looking back once

I catch up to her..and without thinking, without asking, I grab her.

I pull her into my arms from behind, tightly, completely. Her back hits my chest, her breath hitches. I don’t let go.

My hands tremble, but I hold on like she’s the only thing keeping me alive.

“I’m an idiot,” I say, voice cracking. “I’m a coward . I mess everything up.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, rain sliding off her hair, her skin, her shoulders.

I turn her around gently, find her hand, and grip it tightly and desperately.

“Please don’t leave me.” My voice breaks again. “Please. I… I beg you.”

“I’m ashamed ...ashamed that I’ve let myself feel this way for someone so much younger... a student.”

" I hope God forgives me for this sin, if it even is one.”

And then I say it. I am on both knees begging for my love .

The words I’ve buried under every fear, every rule, every damn excuse.

“I love you.”

Her eyes widen, shining even through the rain, unreadable. I stare at her, everything in me bare and exposed.

“I love you,” I repeat, softer now.

One knee buried in the rising puddle, jeans soaked, the weight of everything I’ve held back pressing down on my shoulders. I don’t care if people are watching. I don’t care if I look pathetic.

But I will regret it if I don't express my feelings today .

I just care about her.
Her .. standing there in the rain, chest heaving, tears mixing with the downpour, pain carved into every soft line of her face.

I can beg a thousand times. I will.
If that’s what it takes to make her stay.

Her voice slices through the rain like a blade.In a sharp defensive tone

“Are you sure that you love me?” she asks, her tone guarded, laced with disbelief. “You still have time to take those words back if you want to.”

A bolt of guilt hits my gut.
I’ve messed up. I avoided her. Pushed her away. Let my silence make her feel unwanted.

I shake my head, breath catching. “No,” I whisper, then louder, stronger—“No, I don’t want to take those words back.”

"I thought you didn’t feel anything. That it was all just me..losing myself over someone who would never love me back .Please don’t force yourself… or pity me. I don’t want your pity, or anyone else’s. It’s suffocating… humiliating.” she says with straight face .

“I’d rather be alone than be someone’s burden.”

“You’re not my burden. You never were, and you never will be.
You think I’m the anchor holding you steady… but it’s you.
You’re the one holding me together.
You’re the one whom I can call you mine.” I look straight into her eyes.

Her eyes feels shiny

“I want to say…that” I take a breath, feeling the words surge from the part of me that’s held them prisoner too long.

“Tú me completas. Por favor, quédate conmigo para siempre. Eres mía, diosa.”

(You complete me. Please, stay with me forever. You are mine,Devi.)

"You complete me. Please, stay with me forever. You are mine, Devi."I repeat the line .

Then, without warning, she jumps on me.

Her arms wrap tightly around my neck, pulling me close.

I stumble backward, falling onto the wet, muddy road, my back pressed against the cold, drenched ground.

It felt like my heart might burst from the force of its own beating.

Shock floods me — her face nestled into the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my skin, her body lying fully on top of mine.

“I love you so much… please never leave me,” she whispers, voice trembling with raw emotion.

My left hand moves slowly, hesitating at first ..then finds her waist, wrapping around it gently but firmly.

I can feel the curve of her body, every muscle tense, every breath shuddering against me.

The rain pours down harder now, drenching us completely ..as if the world itself is ready to drown us in this moment.

But I don’t care.

All I want is to hold her close and never let go.

People are staring. Like really staring. Thank God no teenagers are around—just a few middle-aged uncles huddling under tea stalls and some passing by cars . If any youngsters had seen this… we’d be viral by now.

I glance around, awkwardly shifting as I still lie beneath her. Water seeps through my shirt, clinging cold to my skin. Her breath is still on my neck. But I know—we’ve got to move.

“I think we should… go,” I say, voice lower, softer. “You’ll catch a cold. And people are maybe judging us.”

That snaps her out of it. She pushes herself up quickly, eyes flicking everywhere except at me. Her face is red—whether from crying or the scene, I can’t tell.

I sit up next, glancing at the onlookers. Yep, definite side-eyes. One old uncle even shakes his head like he’s watching a drama play out on his veranda.

Shit.

She starts walking ahead, fast and stiff. I catch up, grab her left hand wrist gently from behind, then pass her with a half-smile. I run a few steps, playful, trying to break the tension.

She looks up. Just for a second. But there’s a smile. Real, soft, embarrassed maybe—but real.

I start running.

With her.

Hand in hand, splashing through the puddles, the sound of our soaked shoes smacking the road mixing with the rain. And she runs too—no hesitation. We don’t say a word, but she’s right beside me, gripping my hand back like she needs it.

I glance at her mid-run. She looks at me, finally, and she smiles.

So I smile too.

We reach the car, panting breathless and dripping. I let go of her hand as we circle to our doors. We slip inside the car—drenched like we’ve been thrown into the sea.

For a moment, silence.

She fiddles with the wet edge of her sleeve. Then she finally breaks it.

“Your car got all watery,” she says, avoiding eye contact, a small twitch at the corner of her lips.

I flick on the wipers, eyes on the road.

“Can’t help now,” I say, soft. “Let’s just get home fast.”

We finally reach our alley. It’s already past 7:00. The rain has calmed to a soft drizzle, the kind that clings to your skin like a warning.

But as I turn into our lane, I spot it—a big black car parked right in front of our gate.

I instinctively slow down.

Devi sees it too.

Our eyes meet. Her smile from earlier fades instantly.

I frown and lean slightly forward, squinting through the windshield. As we get closer, my heart skips. Not one. Two cars. Both are black Mercedes, lined up right in front of the main gate.

The lawn gate is wide open.

And the porch lights are on. The ground floor glows like someone’s inside. Someone we didn’t invite.

I park my car to the side of the lawn, close to the gate as We step out. Both of us are still soaked, hair dripping, shoes squelching on the gravel. But now, the cold isn't from the rain—it's from fear of the unknown. And a gut-deep unease.

Devi clutches her scarf tighter around her.
“Whose cars are those?” she whispers.

I say nothing. I gently pull her behind me, shielding her instinctively.

The bike is locked up inside the garage. That means the gun the only weapon in this house—is inside too.

“Stay behind me,” I murmur.

She nods, her hand lightly grazing the back of my arm as we inch toward the gate.

Should I leave her in the car? Should I go in alone first?

I glance back at her..her eyes are wide, scared, but steady.

Then when I turn my face to the front  … I hear it.

Footsteps. Not from the front but from the behind. They are fast and sharp.

I turn slightly, just a glance toward the parked cars. Earlier, they seemed empty. But maybe that was intentional.

Suddenly—

Click.

Cold metal presses against the back of my head.

"Don’t move."

The voice is thick with Accent. Sharp like a blade. It’s not a voice I recognize, but the threat in it is unmistakable.

My spine stiffens. Every muscle in my body locks. I can't  glance back to look at her. I can feel her fingers—just her pinky finger, trembling, wrapped around mine. That one small contact is keeping both of us from falling apart.

“Sir…” she whispers. Her voice is shaking. I can feel her inner fear.

Another step echoes behind her.

"Both of your backs have a gun aimed at them,” the man says, firmer now. “So don’t try to act clever. Walk slowly into the house."

I nod slowly, feeling the press of the barrel tighten at the base of my skull.

Devi's hand grips mine tighter now—her fingers are fully intertwining with mine.

We reach the front door.

“Open it. Enter,” the voice behind me commands again—this time lower, but sharper.

I don’t know how many of them are behind us. I don’t know how many are inside. And I have no clue what the hell is going to happen next.

I glance at Devi from the corner of my eye—she's drenched, trembling, her grip on my hand never loosening. I give her the smallest nod. Whatever happens, I’ll handle it.

My fingers close around the doorknob.

It’s already unlocked.

Click.

The door creaks open with one push… and then I freeze.

Right there, in the middle of the living room—on my couch, legs crossed, posture relaxed like he owns the place

Is him.

The face I thought had been erased from my life.

One of The faces I wanted erased.

And yet—it’s here ,smirking at us.

Watching me.

More than four men are inside. Dressed in matching grey shirts and black pants, like a goddamn uniform. Two of them already have guns in hand. The other are Holstered, but not relaxed.

The air is suffocating and heavy.

My hand instinctively shields Devi, placing her slightly behind me.

Her breath hitches.

The man on the couch lifts a hand lazily and says, as if he’s welcoming an old friend—

" Gun down " he order them .

The cold nuzzles that were pressing on our skull , it moves from the place.

“Well, well, Rayan.. it’s been a while.”

“Diamond is back and wanted to meet Wolf, so Wolf came here himself to meet Diamond,”

his voice rolls out calm, confident—Ilya Sokolov, The wolf.

He stands up slowly from the couch, towering like a blade that’s never been dulled. We’re the same height, but he’s built slender, legs long, movements feline. Always polished.

He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, sleeves folded with intention. A full three-piece white suit . Only shirt and inner vest , he is wearing. And the expensive coat folded on the couch beside where he was sitting—always tidy, always composed.

His platinum-blond hair is slicked back into a clean wolf cut, sharp enough to slice. Not a strand out of place, and even in this dim room, it shines. Light bounces off the gelled layers like moonlight on a blade.

And those dark sunglasses?

He’s still wearing them at this hour.

In a slightly lighten room.

But , I think I know the reason.

“So,” I say, not blinking. “You got the message.”

A flick of his chin. Then he turns his head slightly, barely.

“Boys, all out. I need to have a talk.”

One sentence. That’s all it takes.

The guards glance at one another, hesitate… then nod. Every one of them files out. Quiet boots on tile. No questions. No noise. Just pure obedience.

That’s Ilya.

When the last one closes the door, it’s just him… me… and Devi, standing behind me, soaked, confused, but sensing the tension like a storm in the bones.

He removes his sunglasses slowly.

His eyes ..one dark blue as the ocean.

The other one..

A pale ghost-grey.

Maybe ...Because of me...

“Before anything…” he says, voice low, smooth like a slow bleed,
“First… hold this.”

He reaches down and pulls out a bottle from a sleek leather satchel by the couch—not just any bottle.

Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon.
The fucking holy grail of wines.
His favorite.

He tosses it toward me without a blink.
I catch it mid-air, fingers wrapping around the cold glass neck like reflex.

“A little gift for the new…ly weds.”
Ilya tilts his head, eyes sliding past me—probably trying to get a better look at Devi who’s half-hidden behind my back.

His mouth curls into that signature cold smirk.
“She’s your wife? Such a tiny trembling rat. And why the hell are you both so drenched—were you fucking in the rain?”

He is no filter in his words .

My jaw tightens. I take a step forward, blocking his line of sight completely.
“Don’t involve her. Come to the damn point.”

He lifts a lazy eyebrow.
“Oh? That’s the tone you use now? You forget who you’re speaking to?”

“I’m very clear on who I’m speaking to. So let’s be clear on this too—Ilya, if you’ve come here to settle business, we’ll talk. If you’ve come here to kill us, or try some pathetic intimidation bullshit—get on with it. Just stop wasting time.”

“Relax, old friend. If I wanted you dead… my men would’ve shot your brains out before you even stepped in here.”
He lets out a breathy chuckle, head tilting slightly. “Huh… anyway. I’m going to stay here tonight. Needed a hideout for two, three days. We’ll still have time to catch up.”

He slides his dark sunglasses back on.

My jaw locks. I grab Devi’s hand tighter—feel how tense and small her fingers are in mine—and step right in front of him.

I place the wine bottle down on the table — the only thing separating Ilya and us.

“Not everything happens the way you want it, Ilya.”

He doesn’t even flinch. Just arches a lazy brow and lets a slow smile spread across his lips.
“Don’t you have a lot of mouth these days, Praveer.. Rayan? How should I address you ..? Haa..
Getting cocky over a borrowed life… a mere life,” he sneers, leaning forward so close I can smell the faint trace of his expensive cologne under the damp air.

“You know I’m not mere, Ilya,” I say, voice low and sharp, locking my eyes on his behind those stupid dark glasses. “Yeah, I escaped. But you of all people know my ability. So maybe you came here for something too… after hearing the message.”

His head tilts, that grin dropping into a dark, hungry expression.
“What do you want so badly you’d claw your way up from the cemetery… just to find me again?” His tone rasps, almost a growl.

I don’t flinch. I let the words burn out of me.
“Killing Ace’s son. And destroying his entire fucking kingdom.”

There’s a breath of silence—then he throws his head back and lets out a laugh so sharp and unhinged it echoes through the hall.
“Ha… ha… hahaaaaaa! Haaaaaa!” He clutches his stomach like it physically hurts, eyes gleaming under the glasses.

When he finally stops, he wipes an imaginary tear from under his eye and leans close enough I feel his breath on my cheek.
“Has your brain finally rotted, Rayan? After all these years? Ace’s son…” he snorts.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, Praveer, to even think about that?”

“Guns. Drugs. You know that business ,better than me, Ilya,” I bite out, voice low but sharp. “Ace’s son is planning to stretch his entire fucking empire here. And he’s not just selling—he’s wiping out every old partner. Your father was one of them… who you killed yourself.”

A muscle in Ilya’s clean-shaven jaw twitches, something dark flickering in his eyes behind those damn sunglasses. I push on.

“He’ll come for you too. The bastard’s more unhinged than his father ever was. So I want you to help me. Not just to dodge the same grave that’s waiting for you, but to end up with the dealership when we’re done.”

Ilya gives a lazy tilt of his head, a cruel grin curling.
“But… why, Diamond? What the hell do you get out of this?”

I breathe in deep, chest almost splitting open with the truth I’ve never dared say. Then I look him straight in the eye and let it come out like a blade.

“I was the one who skinned his father alive.”

Ilya actually stills. Even the room feels like it stops breathing.
But then—Devi. I glance at her. And what I see guts me more than any bullet.

Her eyes were blown wide, lips parted, horror etched across her soaked face. I shouldn’t have let her hear that. Should’ve kept that monster buried. But maybe it’s time she knows exactly who I am—who she’s tied to.

“And her father…” I force the words out, throat scraping raw. “He was one of them too. Ace’s son isn’t just coming for partners. He’ll wipe out whole bloodlines. She’s in danger of her entire family is on the line. And I won’t fucking let that happen. He is underground now "

She staggers a little, hand flying to her mouth in disbelief.

“Well, well… seems like I guessed right. You took revenge and escaped .” Ilya mutter.

She slides her hand out of mine, and for a split second it feels like my whole chest caves in.

Ilya lets out a low laugh, his pale fingers drumming on the armrest.
“You always think big, Diamond. Even after all these years, still chasing monsters bigger than you. So let me guess—this isn’t just revenge. You want to do it so this little rat behind you stays alive. How… romantic.”

My fists clench so hard it feels like my nails will draw blood.
“Stop calling her that,” I grind out, each word vibrating with barely held rage.

He lifts both hands in a mock apology. “Ohh, ooo… sorry. Hah!”

“Truth is, I’ve always wanted to fuck that entire empire sideways. Everyone does—who wouldn’t want to be on top in this business? Rules? Ethics? It’s all shit we pretend to show. That brat of Ace might be a little larger now, maybe he has schemes even I don’t fully know. I’m barely in third place back home because I stopped the slaughter… didn’t want rivers of blood anymore.”

He leans forward, smiling curling dark.
“But now? Maybe it’s time to rip their assholes open. Let’s burn it all down, Diamond. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Then deal,” Ilya says, flashing that feral grin. “Just need to make a plan worth our damn time.”

He sits down and leans back, crossing one long leg over the other.
“But before that… let me crash here tonight. Don’t worry—I won’t interrupt your fucking season. Just give me a little space to breathe. My boys will camp out in the cars. I’ll clear out by tomorrow, then we can start plotting. I’ll contact you in a week.”

He pauses, almost like it’s an afterthought.
“I just blew up some crooked cops in Mumbai. They were about to seize a fake medicine racket. I did them a favor. Or not. Who gives a shit.”

“Ridiculous…” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.

I glance at Devi—she’s stiff beside me, hands nervously fidgeting.

“This room—stay here. It’s mine,” I tell Ilya, voice clipped.

“Your room?” He quirks a blond eyebrow, amused.

Devi clears her throat, voice soft but steady. “His study room. Actually… stay there. Please.”

Ilya tilts his head toward her, smirking. “Oh? You can speak. I thought you were—huh, never mind.” He waves it off with a lazy flick of his fingers.

“Give me some spare clothes… or I’ll have to roam around half naked,” Ilya drawls, stretching his arms behind his head. “I’ve got insomnia, so I walk a bit before sleep.”

“Devi, go upstairs.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean. She stiffens, Ilya watches her retreat, his mouth curling.

"I’ll wait. Don’t take too long.” she looks back hovering her eyes on both of us .

I keep my eyes locked on him. “I’ll get you something from the closet. And behave yourself, Ilya...”

He lets out a snort, flicking his hand. “Why do you care so much? You think I’d take her with me? For her, you already made myself half blind… fucker .”

My jaw tightens. “Want to try losing the other eye too?”

That grin spreads wide across his face, almost manic. “Hah… noisy mouth as always. Relax. Pussies don’t attract me—dicks do. So your little flower is safe.”

"I never intended to win her that day…” Ilya’s voice drops, strangely soft. He leans back against the chair, legs stretched, one arm hanging lazily over the side.

“…I fought with my life, Diamond. All my training, my instincts—none of it mattered. Because you wanted to survive with her. I envy that mindset. The man who never lost to anyone… but lost that day. You showed me if someone truly wants something, their will can tear through the world to get it."

He pauses, then narrows his eyes behind those dark glasses.
"But how the fuck did you know I killed my father?"

I meet his stare without flinching. “Whatever’s pushing you to hold back—break it. Or the world will crush you. That’s all I said to you after the match ended. I was passing by the cemetery when they were lowering your father’s coffin. I put it together."

His shoulders tense, that grin twitching before vanishing.

"I knew only one person could’ve done it. Only your father ever pushed you hard enough to hold back. And you killed him."

Ilya lets out a low whistle, shaking his head.
"You’re still a cold bastard, Diamond. Guess we’re both monsters… just yours crawled out of the ground to finish what you started."

"Anyway, have you guys had your dinner?" Ilya asks, casual, like we aren’t standing in the middle of a storm-drenched mess of our lives.

I shake my head. "No."

He snaps his fingers toward the door, not even bothering to look. "Okay. Then my boys will order some food. Indian, Russian, Italian—whatever the fuck comes first. I’m starving."

★★★

I have my clothes draped over my wrist, standing upstairs right in front of her room. I gave Ilya some of my spare clothes, he’s downstairs, sprawled out in my study .

I hesitate. After everything that’s happened today — the rain, the confessions, the way I broke down in front of her — I don’t even know where I stand with her anymore.
But I still lift my hand and knock.

“Come in. The door’s open,” she calls out, voice soft, almost careful.

I push the door and step inside. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing her long wet hair with a towel. That heart-print blue pajama set she’s wearing makes her look painfully pretty and young, like she’s untouched by all the darkness pressing down on us.

My throat works. I clear it.
“Can… can I use your shower?”

She nods quickly. “Yeah… sure.”

Then she suddenly sneezes, a small, sharp sound — “Haa… haaachooo!” — and I flinch.

“You’ve caught a cold,” I say, frowning. “You need to take something for that.”

She sniffles and tries to wave it off. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“Okay? Hm.” I’m not convinced, but I let it go for this time . I will give her medicine after the shower.

I step into the bathroom. The moment I close the door, I’m hit by the smell — jasmine. The whole space is steeped in it, the faint scent clinging to the steam, wrapping around me. It smells like her.

I strip down and step under the hot spray, letting it pound against my shoulders and back. My muscles ease up for the first time all day.
But my mind doesn’t.

I’m starving — didn’t even touch lunch. Didn’t care ,Too much was happening. Her tears, my own pathetic begging, the way Ilya appeared out of nowhere like some ghost from my old life.

Can I trust him?
Probably not.
But I have no other choice. He’s the only bastard reckless enough to stand against Ace’s son with me.

I scrub my face hard, trying to wash away the doubt and guilt. I still remember how she looked when I admitted what I did — skinning Ace’s father alive.
Fucking holy shit.Maybe she’ll never really see me the same again.

I rinse off, step out from the bathroom and with a towel down, my head clearer but my chest still twisted tight.

I look at her — she’s sitting at the dressing table, rummaging through a drawer, completely absorbed. Then she catches my reflection in the mirror. Her eyes widen, and she freezes, staring at me, then quickly darts her gaze down.

“Aaaa…!” she lets out a small scream.

I frown, confused, until I glance down at myself.
Fuck. It's my habit stepping out with only towel wrapping around my waist.
I’m only wearing a white towel. Nothing underneath. Completely forgot. This is her room.

In a panic, I spin around to bolt back into the bathroom. My shoulder bangs right into the wall. Pain shoots through my head and I curse under my breath, clutching the spot.

“Shit…”

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────────

Darlings, the one-bed situation is probably going to happen… hehe. I guess I’m excited.

So, what’s your impression of our new character, Ilya?

He’s a Russian mafia guy. Honestly, I feel like he’s going to end up as one of our favorite side characters.

And of course, things are getting heavy in the drama now.

Target 🎯 38 votes and 25 comments

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