Devil's Bride

The Forced Exile

The convoy of sleek black SUVs moved swiftly along the highway, cutting through the night like shadows. Ayaan sat in the backseat of the lead car, his expression unreadable as he scrolled through his phone. The silence was broken only by the hum of engines and the occasional crackle of a radio.

His bodyguard, Karan, sat beside him, his sharp eyes scanning the road ahead. "The route is clear," Karan reported.

"We'll reach the mansion in two hours."

Ayaan didn't reply, his focus on the screen. But he knew better than to relax. In his line of work, silence was often the calm before the storm.

As the convoy approached a deserted stretch of road flanked by dense forest, the first hint of trouble came. A loud bang shattered the quiet as the lead SUV's tire burst, sending the vehicle skidding to a halt.

"What the-" Karan began, but before he could finish, gunfire erupted from both sides of the road.

"Ambush!" another bodyguard shouted through the radio.

Ayaan's instincts kicked in instantly. "Out of the car," he ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

The doors flew open, and Ayaan stepped out, gun in hand. Bullets ricocheted off the armored cars, sparks flying in the darkness. His men scrambled for cover, returning fire as shadows emerged from the trees.

Ayaan moved like a predator, his sharp eyes assessing the chaos. He spotted one of the attackers trying to flank them and fired, the shot precise. The man dropped, and Ayaan didn't even flinch.

"They've blocked the road," Karan shouted over the gunfire. "We're pinned!"

Ayaan's jaw tightened. He crouched behind the SUV, reloading his weapon. "Then we break through."

He motioned to his men, giving swift orders. Half of them provided cover fire while the others began clearing a path. Ayaan, always in control, moved through the chaos with a deadly grace, his aim unerring.

One by one, the attackers began to fall back, their confidence shaken by Ayaan's ferocity. Soon, the gunfire dwindled, leaving only the groans of the injured and the acrid smell of smoke.

As the dust settled, Ayaan spotted a figure crawling away from the wreckage-a man in a black mask, one of the attackers. His eyes narrowed.

"Alive," he said coldly. "Bring him to me."

The man was dragged to the side of the road, his mask ripped off to reveal a terrified face. Ayaan crouched before him, his dark eyes like steel.

"Who sent you?" Ayaan asked, his voice low and deadly.

The man shook his head, trembling. "I-I don't know! I was just hired..."

Ayaan didn't wait for excuses. He grabbed the man by the collar and hauled him to his feet, slamming him against the SUV. "You don't attack me without knowing who you're working for. Now talk."

The man stammered, his words incoherent. Ayaan signaled to one of his guards, who handed him a knife. Without hesitation, Ayaan pressed the blade against the man's throat.

"You've got one chance," he said, his tone icy.

"Give me a name, or I make sure you regret breathing."

The man whimpered, finally blurting out, "It was Malik! He paid us to take you out, he said you were leaving the city, and this was our chance!"

Ayaan's expression didn't change, but inside, he seethed. Malik was a rival he'd dealt with before, a cockroach he thought he'd crushed. Apparently, the man had survived long enough to try again.

Ayaan nodded to Karan, who stepped forward with a knowing look. "Take care of him," Ayaan said, his voice devoid of emotion.

The man began to plead, but it was too late. Ayaan turned away as the muffled cries faded into silence. He didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. It was just another reminder of the world he lived in-a world where mercy was a weakness he couldn't afford.

As the convoy resumed its journey, Ayaan sat in silence, his hands resting on his knees. The faint smell of gunpowder lingered in the car, but his mind was already elsewhere.

Next Day

The skyline of Mumbai shimmered in the evening light, a jagged silhouette against the deepening hues of twilight. Ayaan Singh stood on the penthouse balcony of his skyscraper, a glass of whiskey in his hand, as the city buzzed below him. It was his kingdom—a chaotic, sprawling empire—and he ruled it with an iron will.

The faint sound of footsteps broke his thoughts. He didn’t turn as his uncle, Arvind, entered the room.

“We need to talk,” Arvind said, his voice heavy with worry.

Ayaan raised an eyebrow, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “You’re in my home. Talking is clearly what you intend to do.”

Arvind ignored the sarcasm. “You’ve made too many enemies, Ayaan. That last shipment you intercepted has stirred the wrong people.”

Ayaan smirked, finally turning to face his uncle. “They knew the risks when they crossed me. If they want a fight, let them come.”

“They will,” Arvind snapped, slamming a hand on the table. “And they won’t play by your rules. They’ll come for you when you least expect it, or worse—they’ll use innocent people to get to you.”

Ayaan shrugged, his confidence unwavering. “I’m not worried. Let them try.”

Arvind let out a frustrated sigh and lowered his voice. “You might not care about your life, but others do. Your father, for one. And me. We can’t watch you throw yourself into a storm without trying to stop it.”

At the mention of his father, Ayaan’s jaw tightened. He drained his glass and placed it on the table with deliberate precision. “What does he want this time?”

“To protect you,” Arvind said, softening his tone. “He’s asked you to step back—just for a while. Let things cool down. Go somewhere safe.”

Ayaan’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the tension. “And where, exactly, is safe? No place is out of reach for people like them.”

“There is one place,” Arvind said carefully. “Your grandfather’s house. The village. It’s quiet, remote, and no one would expect you to hide there.”

The words hung in the air. Ayaan’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of disbelief. “You want me to leave Mumbai, leave everything I’ve built, and rot in some forgotten village?”

Arvind met his gaze steadily. “It’s not forever. Just a few months. You’ll be safe there, and your enemies will lose their momentum. It’s the smart move.”

Ayaan turned back to the city lights, his mind racing. The idea of leaving the life he controlled, the empire he had crafted, grated against everything he stood for. But the truth was undeniable—Mumbai had become a battleground, and even he couldn’t fight everyone at once.

“And my father agrees with this plan?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Arvind nodded. “He does. He asked me to make sure you go.”

Ayaan exhaled sharply. His father rarely interfered in his life, but when he did, it was impossible to ignore.

“Fine,” Ayaan said finally, his tone clipped. “I’ll go. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

The city slipped away like a distant memory as the car sped along the winding roads leading to the outskirts of Chennai. Ayaan leaned back in his seat, scrolling through his phone, barely glancing at the passing scenery.