Ishita's Perspective

The darkness wasn't just in the room; it was inside my head, a heavy, throbbing ache that pulsed with every beat of my heart. My eyelids felt like they were made of lead. When I finally forced them open, the world tilted and swayed.

I tried to reach up to rub my forehead, but my arms wouldn't move. A sharp, rough bite of hemp rope dug into my wrists. I gasped, or tried to, but only a muffled, panicked sound came out. A thick strip of duct tape was plastered across my mouth, the adhesive stinging my skin.

My breath hitched. I was sitting on a cold, damp metal chair. My ankles were bound tightly to the legs of the chair, and my **tiny waist** was lashed to the backrest. I was trapped.

The room was vast and smelled of rust, stagnant water, and cheap cigarettes. The only light came from a single, flickering bulb swinging high above, casting long, distorted shadows that danced like demons on the walls.

"Look at that... the Princess is finally awake."

A voice emerged from the shadows-a raspy, jagged sound that made the hair on my arms stand up. I squinted, my **brown eyes** darting around the darkness. I saw them then. Three-no, four-men standing just out of the light's reach. They were leaning against crates, their silhouettes tall and menacing.

One of them stepped forward into the dim yellow glow. He was scarred, wearing a dirty leather jacket, looking at me like I was a prize he had just won at a fair.

"So this is her," he sneered, circling me like a predator. "Rudra Singh Rathore's **Jaan**. The girl who made the Ice King melt. You don't look like much, sweetheart. Just a thin little thing with pretty eyes."

I struggled against the ropes, my **silver bangles** clinking frantically against the metal chair-a sound that used to be musical but now sounded like a death knell. I tried to scream through the tape, my eyes burning with hot, angry tears.

*Rudra... please find me... Ru...*

"Don't bother struggling," another man called out from the dark, his voice smoother but even more terrifying. "This room is soundproofed. And your Prince? He's probably losing his mind right about now. That's the point, you see. Rudra thinks he's untouchable because of his billions and his name. He thinks he can crush people like us and just walk away to his penthouse to kiss his little model."

He walked closer, the light catching a wicked-looking knife in his hand. He used the tip of the blade to lift a lock of my **long curly hair**. I flinched, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs I thought it would crack.

"He loves you too much, Ishita Sharma," the man whispered, leaning down so I could smell the stale tobacco on his breath. "That's his weakness. He's spent years building a fortress around his heart, and then you came along and opened the gate. Now, all we have to do is wait for him to come for you... and then we'll see if the 'Ice King' can still bleed."

I shook my head violently, tears finally spilling over and soaking into the edges of the tape. I wasn't just scared for myself; I was terrified for Rudra. These people knew him. They knew how he would react. They were using me as bait to lure him into a trap.

I looked at the man, my gaze turning from terrified to defiant even through my tears. If Rudra was coming, he would bring hell with him. They thought they were the monsters, but they had no idea what the man who called me his **"baby doll"** was capable of when his world was threatened.

"Go ahead, cry," the leader laughed, stepping back into the shadows. "Because once Rathore walks through that door, the real show begins. And I promise you, Princess... you won't want to be awake for the ending."

The physical pain was nothing compared to the suffocating terror clawing at my throat. My wrists were raw, the skin shredded from the rough hemp ropes, and I could feel the warm, sticky trail of blood trickling down my ankles. Every time I moved, the ropes bit deeper, but I didn't care.

The leader stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with a sick kind of pleasure. He reached out and wound his fingers into my **long curly hair**, yanking my head back with a force that made me cry out in pain. My scalp felt like it was being torn off. With a rough jerk, he ripped the duct tape off my mouth.

The sting was sharp, but the moment my lips were free, I didn't beg. I didn't cry for mercy. I spat right at his face, my **brown eyes** burning with a fire that surprised even me.

"**Kutte ke bache! Himmat kaise hui teri mujhe hath lagane ki?**" (You son of a dog! How dare you touch me?) I hissed, my voice trembling but filled with venom. "**Tujhe pata nahi tune kis soye huye shaitaan ko jagaya hai. Rudra aayega... aur jab woh aayega na, toh tu maut ki bheek mangega, par woh tujhe maut bhi nahi dega!**" (You don't know what sleeping demon you've woken up. Rudra will come... and when he does, you'll beg for death, but he won't even give you that!)

The man laughed, slapping me across the face. My head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. "Badi baatein karti hai Rathore ki rani. Dekhte hain tera woh 'shaitaan' tujhe kaise bachata hai."

"**Abey saale, tu jaanta nahi hai woh kya hai!**" (You idiot, you don't know what he is!) I screamed, my voice echoing in the hollow warehouse. "**Woh ek darinda hai jise sirf maine bandh ke rakha hai. Aaj tune uski zanjeer tod di hai. Kutte ki maut marega tu!**" (He is a beast that only I have kept bound. Today, you've broken his chains. You'll die a dog's death!)

But even as I cursed him in Hindi, even as I showed him my defiance, I felt it.

That familiar, cold weight settling in my chest. My lungs suddenly felt too small for my body. Before Rudra entered my life, panic attacks were my shadow. I would go numb, forget how to breathe, and feel like the world was collapsing. Since the day he saved me at the Shiv Mandir, I hadn't had a single one. His presence was my anchor. His **ocean blue eyes** were my calm.

But he wasn't here.

The air in the warehouse felt thick and oily. My heart started to gallop-not with anger, but with a terrifying, uncontrollable rhythm. *Dhak-dhak. Dhak-dhak.* My vision began to blur at the edges.

"R-Ru..." I whispered, my bravado crumbling as my breath came in short, jagged gasps.

"Oho, lagta hai Princess ki saans phool rahi hai," the man mocked, leaning in close, his hand still tight in my hair. "Kya hua? Prince charming nahi aaya toh dar lag raha hai?"

I couldn't answer. My chest was heaving. I felt like I was drowning in mid-air. The darkness of the room seemed to be closing in, shrinking until it was just me and this monster. My hands shook in their restraints. I needed him. I needed his deep voice to tell me to *breathe*. I needed his **muscular** arms to shield me from this nightmare.

"Ru... Rudra..." I gasped out, my head lolling back.

Where was he? Why hadn't he broken down the door yet? I knew he was coming-I knew he would burn this entire city to the ground to find me-but for the first time, the beast in my chest was faster than the beast coming to save me.

Everything started to spin. The voices of the men became muffled, like they were underwater.

*Please, Ru... come before I disappear.*

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I sat in the back of my armored SUV, the interior lit only by the cold blue glow of six different laptop screens. Outside, Delhi was a blur of August rain and midnight shadows, but inside this car, the air was lethal. Every muscle in my **6'3" frame** was wound so tight I felt like I was made of pressurized steel.

In my right hand, I clutched a small, blood-stained piece of silver.

Her anklet.

The same one I had fastened around her delicate ankle the night I asked her to be mine forever. I had found it lying in the dirt of that godforsaken parking lot, tangled near the spot where her phone had been crushed. The sight of it-broken and cold-had snapped something inside me that I don't think can ever be fixed.

"Sir, the DGP is on the line again," Laksh whispered, his voice trembling. He didn't dare look me in the eye. No one did. They knew that the man sitting here wasn't the businessman they worked for. This was the **Rathore Prince**, the one whose ancestors had soaked this land in the blood of their enemies.

"Put him through," I rasped. My voice didn't even sound like mine anymore; it was a low, guttural growl that belonged to a predator.

"Rudra," the DGP's voice crackled over the speakers. "We have the satellite pings. A black van bypassed the toll at 11:58 PM. We're narrowing down the industrial sector near the border. My men are ready to move-"

"Your men will stay back," I interrupted, my **ocean blue eyes** flashing with a terrifying, icy light. "This isn't a police operation. This is a debt. And I am the only one who collects."

"Rudra, listen to reason, the law-"

"**Bhaad mein gaya kanoon!**" (To hell with the law!) I roared, my fist slamming into the leather armrest. "They touched her, Ajay! They put their filthy hands on my **Ishi**! Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to them? I'm going to make the devil look like a saint by the time I'm finished with this warehouse."

I stared down at the anklet in my palm, my thumb tracing the intricate silver work. My heart was a drum of pure, unadulterated rage. I could feel her. I could feel her fear, her pain, the way she was probably calling my name. I knew her better than I knew my own soul. She had a panic attack problem-she needed me to keep her grounded, and every second I was away from her was a second she was suffocating.

"Laksh," I said, my voice suddenly turning deathly quiet, which was far worse than the shouting. "Tell the tactical team to surround the perimeter. No one leaves. If they try to run, shoot their legs. I want every single one of them alive until I arrive. Especially the one who touched her hair."

"Yes, sir."

I leaned my head back, closing my eyes for a split second. All I could see was her smile, her **long curly hair**, and the way she looked at me like I was her hero.

"Hold on, **Jaana**," I whispered to the empty car, my grip on the silver anklet tightening until the metal bit into my skin. "Your **Maaal** is almost there. And I promise you... the sky will turn red before I let them take another breath."

I felt the SUV lurch as we accelerated toward the industrial zone. The beast was off its leash, and God help anyone standing between me and my woman.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The metallic taste of blood was heavy in my mouth, staining my lips a deep, angry crimson. My cheek stung from the force of their strikes, and my body felt weak, but my spirit was screaming with a dark triumph. I had insulted their manhood, spat on their egos, and provoked them until they resorted to hitting a tied-up woman.

"Is that all?" I choked out, a bloody smirk stretching across my face. I looked the leader dead in the eye, ignoring the way the room was spinning from my impending panic attack. "My Rudra hits harder than that just to wake me up. You guys are pathetic."

The leader snarled, raising his hand for another blow, but he stopped mid-air.

Suddenly, the air in the warehouse changed. The constant, mocking laughter of the men died down. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, and terrifyingly absolute. It wasn't the silence of peace; it was the silence that happens right before a lightning strike.

I felt it in my bones. The ground beneath my chair seemed to vibrate with a low, rhythmic thrum-the sound of an engine that roared like a predator.

I leaned my head back against the cold metal, my **long curly hair** matted with sweat and dust, and I laughed. It was a dry, raspy sound.

"There you go..." I whispered, my **brown eyes** fixed on the heavy iron doors at the far end of the room. "My man is here."

The kidnappers shifted, reaching for their guns, their faces turning pale. They looked like rats realizing the cat wasn't just in the house-it was in the room.

**BOOM!**

The massive warehouse doors didn't just open; they disintegrated. A black SUV slammed through the entrance like a battering ram, the screeching of metal and the shattering of glass exploding through the room. Dust and debris filled the air, and for a heartbeat, everything was a blur of gray.

And then, through the haze of smoke and the blinding glare of the high-beam headlights, he stepped out.

**Rudra Singh Rathore.**

He didn't run. He didn't shout. He walked toward us with a slow, deliberate stride that felt like the ticking of a doomsday clock. He was dressed in a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his powerful forearms, his **6'3" muscular frame** looking like a silhouette of death.

But it was his face that made my heart stop. The man I knew-the one who whispered "baby doll" and cooked pancakes-was gone. In his place stood the ruthless, emotionless, heartless beast the world feared. His **ocean blue eyes** were no longer the color of the sea; they were the color of a frozen wasteland, devoid of any mercy.

He was holding a gun in one hand and my silver anklet in the other, his knuckles white.

One of the men panicked and raised his weapon. Before he could even pull the trigger, a single shot echoed through the warehouse. The man screamed, collapsing as his shoulder exploded. Rudra didn't even blink. He didn't even look at the man he had just shot. His gaze was locked entirely on me-on my bleeding lip, my raw wrists, and my trembling frame.

"I told you," I whispered into the sudden, terrifying quiet, my voice shaking with a mix of relief and awe. "You broke his chains. Now, pray... if you still remember how."

Rudra stopped ten feet away. The aura of cold, vibrating rage coming off him was so thick I could almost taste it. He looked at the leader, who was still holding a handful of my hair, and I saw Rudra's jaw tighten until the bone looked like it would snap.

"Take your hand... off her... now," Rudra said. His voice wasn't loud. It was a low, guttural rasp that sounded like it came from the very pits of hell.

👑 Rudra’s Perspective

It wasn't a request. It was the last thing those men were going to hear before their world ended.

I didn't just want them dead. I wanted them to understand the exact moment they signed their own death warrants.

As I stepped out of the smoke, the warehouse air felt stagnant, but then a low, vibrating growl ripped through the silence-a sound that made the kidnappers' blood turn to ice. From the shadows of the SUV, **Oscar**, my black Siberian tiger, slinked forward. He was a shadow within a shadow, his golden eyes fixed on the vermin standing near my woman.

"Kill," I commanded, my voice a dead, hollow rasp.

I didn't look away from **Ishi** as the screaming started. Oscar was a blur of black fur and lethal muscle. He didn't just attack; he hunted. I heard the sickening crunch of bone and the frantic, useless pleas for mercy as my pet tore into them, reclaiming the debt in blood. The leader, still clutching a handful of her **long curly hair**, froze in terror as Oscar's shadow fell over his companions.

I walked through the chaos like it wasn't even happening. My boots crunched over spent shell casings and puddles of red. My focus was a laser, burning a path toward the girl in that metal chair.

When I saw the blood on her lip-the blood *I* hadn't been there to prevent-my soul fractured. The **Ice King** was gone. There was only a monster left, and that monster wanted to tear the world apart.

The leader finally found his voice, shaking as he pressed a gun to Ishita's temple. "Stay back, Rathore! I'll kill her! I swear to God-"

I didn't stop walking. I didn't even raise my weapon.

"You mention God?" I asked, my **ocean blue eyes** fixed on his trembling hand. "God isn't in this room, you piece of filth. Look at me. Look at my face. Do I look like a man who is going to let you live to pull that trigger?"

I saw his eyes dart to Oscar, who was currently dragging the second man into the darkness, the sounds of the struggle turning into wet, gurgling gasps. The leader was sobbing now, the gun rattling against Ishi's skin.

"R-Rudra..." Ishi's voice was a broken, jagged whisper. She was gasping for air, her chest heaving in the middle of a massive **panic attack**.

Seeing her struggle for breath snapped the last thread of my restraint. In a movement too fast for the human eye to follow, I closed the distance. I didn't use the gun. I grabbed his wrist with my bare hand and squeezed until I heard the distinct *crack* of his radius snapping.

He shrieked, the gun clattering to the floor. I didn't stop. I buried my fist into his throat, then grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him against a concrete pillar with enough force to rattle his teeth.

"You touched her," I hissed into his ear, my voice vibrating with a lethal, **shameless** rage. "You made her bleed. You made her cry."

I threw him to the floor at Oscar's feet. The tiger let out a bone-chilling roar, standing over the man, waiting for my word.

"Oscar, wait," I commanded. "I want him to watch."

I turned my back on the trash and fell to my knees in front of Ishita. My hands, stained with the leader's blood, trembled as I reached for her. I ignored the ropes for a split second, cupping her face, my thumbs frantically wiping away her tears and the blood on her lip.

"**Jaana**, look at me," I commanded, my voice breaking its cold shell, turning raw and desperate. "Ishi! Look into my eyes. Breathe with me. Your **Maaal** is here. No one is touching you. Look at me, baby doll. Breathe."

I pressed my forehead against hers, my **muscular** frame shielding her from the sight of the carnage behind us. "I'm here, Ishi. I'm here. Focus on my voice. Just breathe for me."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The moment his hands touched the ropes, I felt the ice in the room start to melt. He didn't use a knife; he literally ripped the hemp cords apart with his bare hands, his knuckles white and bleeding, not caring about the pain as long as he got me free.

The second the last restraint fell away, I didn't even try to stand. I collapsed forward, my body heavy and trembling, and he caught me before I could hit the cold floor. He pulled me against his **6'3" muscular frame** so hard it felt like he was trying to merge our souls.

I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the metallic tang of the night. My breath was still coming in jagged hitches-the panic attack was lingering like a dark shadow-but his heartbeat against my ear was the only rhythm I needed.

Rudra looked over my shoulder at the leader, who was crawling away, sobbing and clutching his broken wrist. Rudra's **ocean blue eyes** didn't hold a shred of humanity as he raised two fingers, making a sharp, silent gesture.

**Oscar** let out a low, vibrating snarl and lunged.

I flinched, a small sob escaping my throat, and Rudra immediately tucked my head under his chin, his large hand cupping the back of my skull to shield my eyes.

"Don't look, **Jaana**," he rasped, his voice thick with a dark, protective possessiveness. "He's just taking out the trash."

He swept me up into his arms, carrying me like I weighed nothing. As we walked out of the warehouse, the scene was pure chaos. Black SUVs were everywhere, sirens were wailing in the distance, and I saw the DGP and a sea of police officers dragging the surviving men away. But they didn't get far. Rudra's personal security team-men who looked like they belonged in a war zone-were intercepting anyone who had dared to lay a finger on me.

The sounds behind us were brutal, but I didn't turn back. I couldn't. I just clung to Rudra's shirt, my fingers digging into the fabric.

"**Ru...**" I whispered, my voice cracked and small. I pulled back just enough to look at his face. His jaw was still set like granite, and there was a smudge of blood on his cheek that wasn't his. "**Tumhe... tumhe chot toh nahi lagi na?**" (You... you aren't hurt, right?)

He stopped walking, looking down at me as if I were the only thing left in a burning world. He let out a harsh, broken laugh, his forehead dropping against mine.

"You're asking me if *I'm* hurt?" he groaned, his grip on my **tiny waist** tightening until it was almost painful. "Ishi, you're bleeding. Your wrists are raw. They touched you... and you're worried about me?"

"I was so scared," I confessed, fresh tears spilling over and soaking into his shirt. "**Mujhe laga main phir se wahi purani Ishita ban jaungi... wahi darr, wahi panic attacks...**" (I thought I'd become that old Ishita again... that same fear, those panic attacks...)

"Never," he vowed, his voice a low, fierce growl. He stepped into the back of his armored SUV, not letting go of me for a single second. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap, wrapping a heavy cashmere blanket around us. "As long as I am breathing, no shadow is touching you again. I will burn every studio, every road, every inch of this city if I have to. You are mine, **Jaana**. Do you hear me? You belong to the Ice King, and I don't let anyone touch my crown."

I snuggled deeper into his chest, the warmth of his body finally stopping my shivering. I felt his hand shaking slightly as he stroked my **long curly hair**, smoothing out the tangles where that man had gripped it.

"I love you, **Maaal**," I whispered, my eyes finally fluttering shut as the exhaustion took over.

"I love you more than my own life, **baby doll**," he murmured against my hair, his voice finally softening into the one only I knew. "Now sleep. When you wake up, we'll be home. And I promise... the world will be a much quieter place tomorrow."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The moment the elevator doors opened into the penthouse, the silence of the luxury suite felt like a mockery of the violence I had just left behind. I didn't set her down. I couldn't. Every time I thought about the way those ropes had bitten into her skin, a fresh wave of nausea and rage hit me.

I carried **Ishi** toward the master bedroom, my stride heavy. My guards were already stationed at every entrance, standing like stone statues. As I passed them, they looked at my shirt-stained with the leader's blood-and then at the fragile girl in my arms.

"Sir, the doctor is on standby in the living room," one of them whispered.

"Tell him to wait," I snapped, my **ocean blue eyes** flashing. "I'll call him when she's calm. No one enters this room unless I say so."

I looked back at Laksh, who was trailing behind us with **Oscar**. The tiger's fur was matted with dark stains, his golden eyes still wide with the adrenaline of the hunt. He let out a low, questioning chuff, wanting to come near Ishita to check on her.

"No, Oscar," I said, my voice stern but quiet so as not to wake the sleeping girl in my arms. I turned to Laksh. "Laksh, take him. Clean him yourself. Use the warm water, get every trace of those bastards off his coat. I don't want a single drop of their filth near her. Once he's spotless, he can come to the door."

"Yes, Rudra Sir," Laksh murmured, quickly leading the great cat away.

I pushed the bedroom door open with my shoulder and walked into the dim light. I laid her down on the silk sheets as if she were made of the finest glass. She let out a tiny, broken whimper in her sleep, her **long curly hair** spilling across the white pillows like ink.

I stood there for a moment, my hands trembling. I am Rudra Singh Rathore. I have destroyed companies, broken rivals, and built an empire out of nothing. But looking at the raw, red welts on her **tiny wrists**, I felt like the weakest man on earth. I had failed to protect my world.

I stripped off my blood-stained shirt, tossing it into the corner with a snarl of disgust, and went to the bathroom. I grabbed a bowl of warm water, antiseptic, and a soft cloth.

When I sat back down on the edge of the bed, the light from the moon hit her face. Her lip was swollen, a purple bruise beginning to bloom on her fair skin. My jaw clenched so hard it ached.

"**Ishi...**" I whispered, my voice thick.

I gently took her hand, my large fingers looking massive against her delicate ones. As I touched the first wound on her wrist, her eyes flew open. They were wide, clouded with the remnants of her **panic attack**.

"Ru?" she gasped, her body jerking back instinctively.

"Shh, it's me. It's just me, **Jaana**," I murmured, leaning over her so she could see my face, making sure my expression was soft, hiding the 'beast' away. I took her hand again, pressing a kiss to her palm. "You're safe. You're in our home. I'm just going to clean you up, okay?"

She relaxed into the pillows, her breath hitching as I dabbed the antiseptic onto her skin. "It stings," she whispered, a tear escaping the corner of her eye.

"I know, baby doll. I know," I rasped, leaning down to blow softly on the wound. "I wish I could take the pain for you. I wish I could take every bit of it."

I worked in silence for a long time, meticulously cleaning every scratch, every mark they had left on her. I treated her skin like a sacred ritual, my heart breaking with every flinch she made. When I finished with her wrists and ankles, I moved to her lip.

I dipped the cloth in the water and tilted her chin up. Her **brown eyes** were fixed on mine, searching for the man she loved.

"Are they... are they dead?" she asked quietly.

I paused, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. The image of Oscar's fangs and my guards' cold efficiency flashed through my mind.

"They won't ever hurt anyone again, Ishi," I said, my voice turning into that cold, possessive stone. "They made the mistake of touching something that belongs to a Rathore. In my world, there are no second chances for that."

I leaned in, pressing my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. "Now, no more talk of them. Tonight, it's just us. I'm going to stay right here. I'm not going to close my eyes until I know you're dreaming of something beautiful."

I leaned in, my heart twisting as I looked at the small tear at the corner of her mouth. I pressed my lips there-not a kiss of passion, but a kiss of healing, a soft, lingering promise that I would never let her feel pain again.

"Go change, **Jaana**," I whispered against her skin, my voice thick with an emotion I couldn't fully name. I walked to my walk-in closet and pulled out one of my crisp, white silk shirts. It would be huge on her **thin, slim frame**, but I wanted her wrapped in my scent. I wanted her to feel my presence even when I wasn't touching her. "Wear my shirt, okay? Just wait for me. I'll be back in five minutes."

She nodded sleepily, her **brown eyes** trusting and soft. As she disappeared into the bathroom, the softness in my eyes died instantly.

I walked out of the bedroom, my bare chest still tight with a residual, vibrating rage. Laksh was standing in the hallway, his head bowed.

"Laksh," I said, my voice like a serrated blade. "Spread the word. I want the news of tonight's 'cleanup' to reach every corner-from the corporate boardrooms to the deepest holes of the underworld. Let them know what happens when someone touches a Rathore's woman. Tell them the Ice King doesn't just freeze his enemies; he erases them."

"It will be done, Sir," Laksh replied, turning to execute the order.

I walked to the balcony, the cool night air hitting my skin. I pulled out my private burner phone. I only had a few people in my life I considered equals-men who understood the burden of power and the madness of protective love. Veer and Shiv were my brothers, but for a message that needed to echo through the dark world, I needed a different kind of monster.

I dialed a number that wasn't in any directory.

It picked up on the first ring. A low, dangerous hum came from the other end-the sound of a man who lived in the shadows.

"Rudra," the voice said. It was **Krishiv Singh**.

Krishiv was the Mafia Lord of the Dark World. While I ruled the light and the markets, he ruled the silence and the streets. We were two sides of the same coin. He, too, had a pet-a black tiger, the twin brother of my Oscar. And more importantly, he had **Chavvi**. He treated his wife like a porcelain doll, shielding her from the very world he commanded, much like I did with my Ishita.

"Krishiv," I greeted, my voice cold. "The message is out, but I want you to amplify it. Some street filth thought they could snatch **Ishita** and live."

I heard the sound of a glass being set down on the other end, followed by a dark, knowing chuckle. "They touched your doll, Rudra? That's a death wish. My men already told me about the warehouse. Oscar had a good meal tonight, I hear."

"It wasn't enough," I hissed, my grip on the railing tightening. "I want their entire lineage tracked. Anyone who even knew about the plan needs to vanish. No traces. No mercy."

"Consider it done," Krishiv replied, his tone turning serious, the bond of two protective men sealing the deal. "I'll have my network scrub the streets. No one will even breathe her name without looking over their shoulder. How is she?"

"Breaking," I admitted, my voice cracking for the first time. "She's having panic attacks again. They slapped her, Krishiv. They put their hands on her face."

"I understand," Krishiv said, and I could almost hear the lethal intent in his own voice-likely thinking of his Chavvi. "Go to her. Secure your castle. I'll handle the shadows. Tell Ishita she's under the protection of the Singh name as well now."

"Thanks, brother."

I hung up and took a deep breath. The world was being handled. The underworld was being silenced. Now, the only thing that mattered was back inside that room.

I walked back into the bedroom. Ishita was standing by the bed, draped in my white shirt. The hem reached her mid-thighs, and the sleeves were rolled up multiple times to reveal her bandaged wrists. She looked so fragile, yet so beautiful, standing there in the moonlight.

"**Ishi...**" I murmured, walking toward her.

I walked toward her, my footsteps silent on the thick carpet. Seeing her engulfed in my white silk shirt-the fabric hanging off her **thin, slim shoulders** and smelling of my sandalwood cologne-did something to my heart that no billion-dollar deal ever could. She looked like a broken angel trying to find her wings again.

I didn't say a word. I simply reached out and wound my arms around her **tiny waist**, pulling her flush against my bare chest. I felt her small hands immediately fly to my back, her fingers clutching my skin as if she were afraid I'd vanish if she let go.

"**Jaana...**" I groaned into her hair, burying my face in the crook of her neck.

The 'Ice King' was completely gone. I was just Rudra, a man who had almost lost his entire universe. I felt a stinging behind my eyes-a sensation I hadn't felt since my parents passed away. I pulled back just enough to cup her face in my large, calloused hands, my thumbs gently stroking her cheeks, careful of the bruise.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I failed you, Ishi. I promised to be your shield, and I let those monsters get close enough to hurt you."

"No, Ru..." she sniffled, her **brown eyes** looking up at me with so much purity it ached. "You came for me. You always come for me. I heard your car... I heard Oscar... and I knew. I knew my **Maaal** wouldn't let anything happen."

I leaned down and pressed a long, reverent kiss to her forehead, then her temples, and finally, the bridge of her nose. I was worshiping her, trying to wash away the memory of every rough touch she had endured tonight with my own softness.

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again," I murmured against her skin. "From now on, the world stays outside these doors. It's just you and me."

I swept her up into my arms again-a move that had become second nature tonight-and settled onto the massive bed, pulling her into my lap. I wrapped the duvet around both of us, creating a cocoon of warmth. She snuggled into my chest, her ear right over my heart.

"It's beating so fast," she whispered, her hand sifting through the hair on my chest.

"Because it only beats for you," I confessed **shamelessly**, resting my chin on top of her head. I began to hum the song we had danced to in the kitchen-*Dil leke darde dil de gaye*-my deep baritone vibrating through both our bodies.

I felt her tension finally drain away, her breathing becoming rhythmic and deep. I kept stroking her **long curly hair**, my fingers untangling the knots with a patience I didn't know I possessed.

"I love you, my little dreamer," I whispered into the silence of the room. "Sleep now. Your Prince is standing guard, and tonight, even the shadows are afraid to enter this room."

I stayed awake for hours, watching the rise and fall of her chest, clutching her like the priceless treasure she was. The world outside might be terrified of the name Rudra Singh Rathore after tonight, but in this room, I was just a man hopelessly, desperately in love with the girl in his shirt.