Royal with Rebel (Royal #2: Book 2)

1

-• dead •-

[ three days ago - day 01 ]

Sara Rajawat

I've killed two people in my life.

I will kill three more soon.

The world calls them murders. I call them installments. Installments for the justice my sister will get at the end of it all. Have I crossed the lines of morality you ask? Quiet a while ago. Should I be taking the law in my hands? Books will tell you no. So I'm writing one. With my own hands. Using weapons in place of words, using blood in place of ink.

Using corpses in place of pages.

And I'll write an epic story of justice. One that didn't require the law, or the preaching of morals, heavens won't come down to punish them, their souls won't perish at the hands of the Almighty.

It will be me. Their honor of law, their line of morality, their heavenly hell, and their Almighty. Because justice cannot be served here. Not when they're alive. The world is a corrupted, degenerated, self-destructive place, eating at its own rinds in greed. So I'll send their souls beyond life, beyond the confines of time and space, beyond the concept of a beginning and an end.

I haven't been dead yet to know what's beyond life. But I'm sure my sister does. I'm hoping she sees the gifts I've been sending her, unwraps them from their white sheath carefully, layer by layer, and realises her wait has been answered. I hope she's given the chance of crucifying their souls before they're sent somewhere worse. I hope at the end of it all, she takes a new birth, in a warm, happy household, where women aren't treated like sacks of rice, aren't feasted on like a piece of meat, instead worshipped like goddesses. I wish she would find a place that's bright and beautiful, brimming with souls akin to her, where hopes land on the gravity of reality, and become one, become true.

And while I've no way of confirming that it happens, I'm not stopping until I've paved a way for that possibility. I know she's waiting. She's waiting for me to send all of their souls to her. I know she won't be at rest until that happens.

Therefore, anyone who stands in the path of my vengeance, has to go, either willfully, or by force.

His name flashes on the screen.

My fingers wrap around the steering wheel tightly, blood dropping at my knuckles, whitening them. I swipe the answer button and lean back, my back straight. "Yes?"

"You're getting kidnapped, Sara. Any normal human being would react with fear. What's with your tone?" He releases a throaty, unkind chuckle.

I clench my jaw. "I'm ghastly surprised you've the guts to pull a stunt like this, Karan. And slightly pissed. That's all."

"Well, if I was doing this to an innocent, normal civilian, yeah perhaps I'd have been quaking with fear right now. But it's you. You're more terrifying than me, Sara. You're a criminal. A murderer," he spits out the last word.

"You're only pissed because you believe something that you cannot prove,"

"Or, maybe I can, and that's the very reason you're coming to me on your own." He muses thoughtfully.

"If the cops catch you, you'll be unsalvageable."

"You killed my brother, Sara. I'm with the need for justice here. I think I'll be fine. My story has more credibility anyway. You should be thinking about yourself." He replies. "And of your lowlife detective. He's in need of medical assistance by the way. So you better be here quickly, because I'm losing my patience with him and I'm afraid he won't be breathing by the time you reach here."