The silence that followed Yuvaan's declaration was thick with shock. Madame Zara was the first to recover, her sharp eyes assessing the intruder in the ruined kurta.
"And who, pray tell, are you to crash a private ceremony?" she demanded, her voice a razor wrapped in silk.
Yuvaan let out a low, humorless chuckle that held no warmth. "Ouch. For someone who trades in information and flesh, you're not very well-informed. Yuvaan Pratap Singh." He let the name hang in the perfumed air, watching her face for the flicker of recognition.
It wasn't Zara who reacted first. The old groom shifted, his acquisitive eyes narrowing behind his spectacles. "Pratap… of the Pratap Global Consortium?" he wheezed, a hint of wariness cutting through his entitlement.
The confirmation made Zara reassess, but her greed quickly overshadowed caution. A slow, calculating smile spread across her lips. "Mr. Pratap! An unexpected honor. If it is… entertainment you seek, you have come to the right place, but perhaps at the wrong time." She gestured expansively. "I have girls far more polished than this runaway. We can discuss a private arrangement, a much more… compliant companion."
Yuvaan's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop. He took another step forward, his gaze sweeping over the terrified faces of the other girls forced to watch before returning to Zara.
"You misunderstand," he said, his voice now dangerously quiet, carrying to every corner. "I am not a client. I do not see women as commodities with price tags. They are not your property to trade. They are souls, daughters, potential… akin to the goddesses you pretend to revere in this mockery of a mandap."
He turned his head, his eyes finding Khushi's again, anchoring himself. "I am here for one reason only. I am leaving with her. Now."
Zara's mask of hospitality shattered. Hostility twisted her features. "You arrogant fool! This is my kingdom. You leave alone, or you leave in a body bag!" She snapped her fingers. "Teach him some respect!"
Ten hulking henchmen, who had been lurking in the shadows, stepped into the dim light. They were brutes, built for crushing, not finesse.
Yuvaan didn't wait for them to surround him. He moved.
The fight began.
He was a blur of controlled violence. The first man lunged; Yuvaan sidestepped, caught the extended arm, and used the man's own momentum to slam him face-first into the wooden pillar of the mandap with a sickening crunch.
Two came at him from both sides. He dropped low, a sweeping kick taking out the first man's legs. As the second swung a heavy fist, Yuvaan caught the wrist, twisted it sharply until a bone snapped, and drove an elbow into the man's solar plexus, dropping him gasping.
He fought with an efficient, predatory grace that was shocking to behold. It wasn't brawling; it was dismantling. A punch was parried and returned with double the force, breaking a nose. A kick was caught and used to topple another assailant. He used their size against them, the environment as a weapon—shoving one into the ceremonial fire, sending pots of incense flying into the faces of others.
Five down. His white kurta was now stained with dust, sweat, and the blood of his attackers, but his breathing was still steady, his eyes cold and focused.
The remaining henchmen hesitated, circling him warily. Yuvaan stood in the center, a statue of wrath. For a moment, it looked like he would clear the entire courtyard.
He didn't see the one who had been lying still, playing possum near the shattered gate.
As Yuvaan turned to face the next advancing pair, the fallen goon behind him stirred. Silently, he grabbed a heavy, broken piece of wooden fencing. He crept forward, raised the makeshift club high, and brought it down with all his remaining strength onto the back of Yuvaan's head.
The impact was a dull, terrible THUD.
Yuvaan's eyes went wide for a split second, the world tilting. His knees buckled. The formidable strength, the controlled fury, evaporated. He crumpled to the ground, motionless.
A deafening silence fell, broken only by the crackle of the scattered fire.
From the mandap, a raw, shattered scream tore through the night.
"YUVANN!!!"
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To be continued…