The rain had swallowed the city whole.
Neon lights bled into the wet streets, reflecting in broken colors across puddles that looked like shattered mirrors. Thunder rolled somewhere far away, but beneath the storm there was another kind of noise — louder, uglier, more desperate.
Underground.
Hidden beneath an abandoned warehouse, the fight club was alive.
Men shouted. Money changed hands. Blood stained the concrete floor.
And in the center of the ring stood Aarav Sen.
His knuckles were split open. A thin line of crimson trailed from the corner of his lip. His breathing was heavy, controlled, disciplined. His opponent — twice his size — circled him like a predator ready to end the hunt.
"Finish him!" the crowd roared.
Aarav's dark eyes remained calm. Empty. Focused.
The giant lunged forward with a brutal punch aimed straight for his jaw. The force behind it could have broken bone.
At the last possible second, Aarav moved.
A smooth sidestep. A calculated pivot.
The punch cut through empty air.
Before the man could recover, Aarav struck — sharp, precise, merciless. One blow to the ribs. Another to the throat. Then a final strike behind the ear.
The giant collapsed.
Silence.
For one suspended heartbeat, the entire room froze.
Then the cheers exploded.
Money flew into the air. Bets were won. Names were shouted.
But Aarav didn't celebrate.
He never did.
To him, winning wasn't glory. It wasn't pride. It was survival.
He stepped out of the ring without looking back.
The corridor outside was dimly lit, flickering bulbs casting long shadows against cracked walls. The sound of rain above mixed with distant thunder. Aarav pressed his hand against the wall for support. Pain surged through his body, but he ignored it.
Pain was familiar.
Pain was home.
"Are you okay?"
The voice was soft.
Unexpected.
Aarav slowly lifted his head.
Standing a few feet away was a girl.
She looked completely out of place in the dark hallway — like light had wandered into the wrong world.
Her long hair was damp from the rain. Drops of water slid down her cheeks. Her white kurti clung slightly to her frame, and her wide eyes held shock… but not fear.
That surprised him.
"This isn't a place for you," Aarav said coldly.
The girl stepped closer instead of backing away.
"And this is a place for you?" she replied quietly.
Her gaze dropped to his bleeding lip. Without hesitation, she opened her bag and pulled out a small handkerchief. Gently, she reached up and pressed it against the corner of his mouth.
Aarav stiffened.
No one touched him like that.
Not without violence.
Not without motive.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Aarav."
"I'm Meera."
Their eyes met properly for the first time.
For a moment, the noise of the fight club disappeared. The storm outside faded. The world narrowed down to two strangers standing in a broken hallway.
But they weren't alone.
At the far end of the corridor, two men in black jackets watched carefully. Their expressions were cold. Observing. Calculating.
One of them pulled out his phone.
"We need to inform Sir," he muttered under his breath.
Aarav noticed them instantly.
His jaw tightened.
He stepped back from Meera.
"You should leave," he said firmly.
"What? Why?"
"Because this world…" he paused, glancing toward the watching men, "…destroys anything that doesn't belong to it."
Meera followed his gaze but didn't fully understand.
"I'm not scared," she said.
Aarav almost smiled — almost.
"That's the problem."
Thunder cracked loudly overhead. The lights flickered again.
The men at the end of the hallway started walking toward them.
Slowly.
Purposefully.
Aarav stepped slightly in front of Meera without thinking.
Protective.
Instinctive.
She noticed.
The rain outside grew heavier, as if the sky itself was warning them.
And somewhere in the city, a powerful man received a message with a single sentence:
Your daughter was seen at the fight club. With him.
Aarav didn't know who Meera truly was.
Meera didn't know what Aarav was fighting for.
But fate had already made its decision.
And from that rainy night onward, love and blood would begin to mix in ways neither of them could ever escape.
The storm had only just begun.