Rudra's phone vibrated sharply against the console.
Not a call. A signal.
His eyes flicked to the screen for half a second, just enough to register the pulse graph spiking violently. The bracelet on his wrist vibrated in sync, a low hum against his skin, like a warning whispered directly into his blood.
Ria, sitting behind him, laptop balanced on her knees, sucked in a breath."Bhai... location update. Strong signal aa raha hai."
Ravi leaned forward from the passenger seat. "Which area?"
Ria zoomed in, fingers shaking despite herself. "Yeh... yeh park ka zone hai. Naam—" she swallowed, reading it again, "Old Park."
Ravi froze. His head snapped toward Rudra. "Which park?"
That single question changed the air inside the car.
Ravi's voice dropped. "Rudra... woh park... our old house ke paas wala. City ke bahar. Abandoned side."
Something dark crossed Rudra's face. Recognition. Memory. Rage. He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
The accelerator went down hard.
The car surged forward, engine snarling, tires screaming as Rudra cut across the signal without hesitation. Red light. Green light. None of it mattered now. Police sirens wailed ahead as escort vehicles cleared the VIP road, officers physically blocking traffic, shouting people back.
Time stretched and snapped all at once.
Minutes turned into an hour. One hour since the burned car. Almost two since Anaya vanished from the road. Every second felt stolen. Every breath felt late.
Ria clutched the laptop tighter. "Bhai... bracelet ka pulse abhi bhi high hai. She's alive. But she's scared. Bahut zyada."
Rudra's jaw tightened. His grip on the wheel was bone-white. He didn't speak. He couldn't trust his voice not to fracture.
The mansion-like boundary wall of the old park finally appeared through the haze of dust and broken streetlights. Police cars slowed, stopping a little distance away, maintaining cover.
Rudra braked hard.
Before the engine even died, both men were out.
Rudra turned sharply to Ria. "Tum gaadi se bahar nahi aaogi."
"Bhai, main—"
"No." His voice cut clean. Controlled. Dangerous.Ravi added quietly, "Please. Safe raho. Yahin ruko."
Ria's eyes burned with unshed tears, but she nodded. She knew this wasn't fear. This was protection.
Rudra and Ravi moved fast, boots crunching over dry grass and debris. The park was exactly what memory promised. Broken benches. Fallen lights. Rusted swings creaking in the wind like ghosts refusing to rest.
"Split," Rudra muttered. "Agar tumhe dikhe... le jao. Same for me."
Ravi nodded once. "Aur Rudra... don't kill anyone."
A muscle in Rudra's jaw flexed. "No promises."
They separated.
Rudra moved silently, instincts sharp, every sound mapped. His bracelet vibrated again. Stronger. Closer. He stopped near a collapsed structure, half-hidden behind overgrown bushes.
An old shelter.
Concrete cracked. Door hanging crooked. Darkness breathing inside.
His chest tightened.
He glanced at the bracelet. It pulsed violently now.
Yahin hai.
For the first time since this nightmare began, Rudra closed his eyes for half a second.
Bhagwan...Mujhe usse mila dijiye.Usse meri zarurat hai.Please.
He stepped closer. No sound. No rush.
He peeked inside.
And the world stopped.
Anaya.
Tied to a chair. Rope cutting into her wrists. Hair disheveled. Face pale. Eyes unfocused, whispering to herself like she was trying to stay alive by force of will alone.
Rudra's blood boiled so violently it felt like fire under his skin.
He scanned the room instantly. No guards. No movement. A setup. Temporary.
Behind him, Ravi appeared, eyes widening in shock.
"She's here," Ravi breathed. Relief and fury tangled together. "I'll call the team."
He typed fast, messaging Ria first.Found her.
"Rudra," Ravi said quietly, "back door check karo. I'll stay alert."
Rudra nodded once.
He picked up a thick, rusted iron rod lying near the wall. Its weight settled into his palm like an old promise. Dark blue suit. White shirt smeared with dust. Devil dressed like a gentleman.
He moved.
Inside the shelter, Anaya whispered to herself, voice breaking.
"Why... why am I here?""I was just going to office...""Mumma ko bola tha main wapas aaungi..."
Her throat tightened. Tears slipped free.
"I don't want to end like this. Please...""Bhagwan... koi chamatkar kar dijiye...""I want to live. I want to love.""I want Rudra. Forever."
Her breath hitched. "Please... please... help me."
The door exploded open.
A loud crack echoed as the broken lock gave way.
Anaya screamed, voice hoarse. "Kaun hai? Kaun ho tum?"
Footsteps.
Heavy. Certain.
Before fear could swallow her again, a familiar presence filled the doorway.
Tall. Broad. Breathing hard.
Rudra.
For a split second, neither of them moved.
Then Anaya broke.
"Rudra..." Her voice shattered completely.
He crossed the distance in three strides, iron rod dropping from his hand. He was kneeling in front of her before she even realized he'd moved.
"I'm here," he said hoarsely. "Main aa gaya."
His hands trembled as he untied the ropes, careful, gentle, like she was made of glass and fire both. The moment her wrists were free, she collapsed forward.
Into him.
He caught her like he'd been waiting his whole life to.
She clutched his suit, fingers digging in, sobbing uncontrollably. "Mujhe laga... main mar jaungi."
"Shh," he whispered fiercely, arms wrapping around her, crushing her to his chest. "Aisa kuch nahi hone dunga. Kabhi nahi."
His voice broke despite himself. He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her in like oxygen.
"I found you," he murmured. "Bracelet ne guide kiya. Tumne hi mujhe bulaya."
Outside, sirens grew louder. Backup arrived. Ravi entered, relief flooding his face.
"She's safe," Ravi said softly. "It's over."
Rudra didn't answer.
He just held her tighter.
Because for him, this wasn't an operation completed.
This was a miracle answered.
And somewhere between broken concrete, old prayers, and a bracelet still pulsing softly with life, Rudra Singhaniya knew one thing with brutal clarity.
Anyone who tried to take her away again wouldn't get mercy.
They wouldn't even get time.
┈┈⟢⟡┈┈⟢⟡┈┈⋆༶⋆˙⊹❀⊹˙⋆༶⋆┈┈⟢⟡┈┈⟢⟡┈┈
Darkness came first.
Not the kind that falls when lights go out.The kind thatexists, heavy and breathing, wrapping itself around her like a wet cloth pressed to her face.
Anaya's consciousness returned in fragments.
A cold floor.A smell of rust and damp earth.The ache in her wrists.
She stirred slightly.
Rope.
Her hands were tied behind her back, coarse fibers biting into her skin every time she moved. Her ankles followed, secured to the legs of a wooden chair that creaked under even the smallest shift. Panic tried to rise instantly, sharp and animal, but her body felt slow. Drugged. Heavy.
Her eyelids fluttered open.
Nothing.
Only shadows layered over shadows.
For a moment, she thought she was blind.
Her breathing grew uneven. "Hello?" she whispered, voice cracking before it even found strength. The sound died quickly, swallowed by the dark.
No answer.
Her heart thudded harder.
She tried to remember.
Office.Morning rush.Traffic signal.Stopping the car.
Then blank.
A sharp tremor ran through her body.
This isn't a nightmare,her mind told her cruelly.Nightmares end.
She shifted again, testing the ropes. Pain shot through her wrists. She hissed, biting her lip to stop a scream. The chair scraped softly against the floor.
Still no response.
That was worse.
The silence here wasn't empty. It was watching.
Anaya swallowed, throat dry. Her breathing echoed too loudly in her ears. She forced herself to slow it down, the way her mother had taught her when fear used to claw at her chest during childhood thunderstorms.
Saans lo.Ek... do... teen...
Her eyes adjusted gradually.
Cracked walls.Broken cement.A single bulb hanging above, switched off, its wire exposed like a severed vein.
An old shelter.
Realization landed slowly, heavily.
"I was just... going to office," she whispered, more to herself than the room. Her voice shook, but she needed to hear it. Needed proof she still existed.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Mumma.
Her chest tightened painfully.
"I told you I'll come back," she murmured, eyes burning. "Main promise karke gayi thi..."
A tear slipped down her cheek, disappearing into her hairline.
Why her?
She wasn't powerful. She wasn't dangerous. She was just... living. Loving. Trying.
Her fingers curled weakly against the rope. The fibers were rough, old. Not professional. Temporary.
That scared her more.
Temporary meant unfinished.
Her heart rate climbed, fast and frantic. She could feel it pounding against her ribs, loud enough that it felt like the room might hear it too.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Bhagwan...
The word came unbidden, raw.
Please.
Her lips trembled as the prayer spilled out, broken and desperate.
"Main aise nahi marna chahti," she whispered. "Akele. Andhere mein."
Her shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked her body. She tried to stay quiet, terrified that sound might summon someone. Or worse, remind them she was still alive.
"I want to live," she said softly. "I want to love."
Her breath hitched.
"I want Rudra."
Saying his name felt like touching something warm in freezing water.
She pictured him instinctively. His eyes when he was angry. When he was quiet. The way he looked at her like the world narrowed down to one point.
"I want him forever," she whispered, voice breaking completely now. "Please... please... bas ek chamatkar."
Her breathing grew erratic.
Her heart was racing wildly now, fear flooding her system, her body betraying her calm. She didn't know it, but the bracelet hidden beneath her sleeve pulsed faintly, reacting to her rising panic, sending her terror out into the world like a scream only one man could hear.
She tugged at the ropes again, harder this time.
"No one knows I'm here," she whispered, realization crashing into her. "No one..."
Her chest felt too tight. Tears blurred her vision.
"Mumma is waiting," she said helplessly. "Please... main ghar jaana chahti hoon."
Her head fell back against the chair, exhaustion creeping in, heavy and dangerous.
Time lost meaning.
Minutes stretched into something shapeless. Every sound made her flinch. A distant rustle. Wind brushing through broken gaps. Her imagination filled the silence with horrors her mind couldn't stop creating.
She whispered prayers until her throat hurt.
Then stopped.
Hope is a fragile thing. It can hurt more than fear when it starts to fade.
Her head drooped forward.
Maybe this is it,a small, traitorous voice whispered.Maybe this is how stories end.
A sudden sound shattered the thought.
Acrack.
Sharp. Violent.
Her head snapped up.
Footsteps.
Real ones.
Heavy. Certain.
Her heart slammed so hard it felt like it might burst.
"Kaun... kaun hai?" she shouted, panic ripping through her restraint. "Kaun ho tum?"
The door exploded inward.
Wood splintered. Dust filled the air.
A figure stood framed in the doorway, backlit by faint light from outside.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Breathing hard.
For half a second, fear froze her completely.
Then her eyes focused.
Her breath left her lungs in a broken sob.
"Rudra..."
His name fell from her lips like surrender.
He was moving before she could process it. Crossing the room in long strides, iron rod dropping from his hand as if it had never mattered. He knelt in front of her, eyes scanning her face, her wrists, the ropes.
"I'm here," he said hoarsely. "Main aa gaya."
Her vision blurred completely.
The world tilted.
His hands trembled as he untied her, movements careful, reverent. The moment the rope loosened, strength left her body.
She collapsed forward.
Into him.
His arms caught her instantly, crushing her against his chest, solid and real and alive. She clutched his suit like it was the only thing anchoring her to existence, fingers digging in as sobs tore free without permission.
"Mujhe laga... main mar jaungi," she cried, voice muffled against him.
"Shh," he whispered fiercely, holding her tighter. "Aisa kuch nahi hone dunga. Kabhi nahi."
She felt his forehead rest against hers. Felt his breath shake.
"I found you," he murmured. "Tumne mujhe bulaya."
Outside, sirens wailed. Footsteps approached. Voices.
But inside that broken shelter, time paused.
She was safe.
Held.
Alive.
And in the dark place where she had almost lost herself, Anaya understood something with aching clarity.
Love isn't loud.
Sometimes, it's just someone breaking down a door when you've stopped believing anyone will.