Obsession (For their sister)

R.M-A Devil or A Beast?

London, England

Outskirts of London,

In the outskirts of London, amidst the sprawling landscape, stood an imposing mansion shrouded in obsidian walls that seemed to absorb the very essence of daylight. The structure was a testament to grandeur, adorned with intricate designs and artful paintings that adorned its interior.

At the heart of this opulent mansion, a man sat bound to a chair, his gaunt face and sunken eyes bearing the unmistakable signs of hunger and deprivation. The passage of time had not been kind to him, evident in his frail and emaciated form.

Suddenly, a group of guards entered the room, cruelly interrupting the eerie silence by drenching the captive with icy cold water. The shock jolted him awake, and his bleary eyes slowly regained focus.

Simultaneously, a convoy of six to seven cars arrived outside the mansion, forming a procession that announced the arrival of an unknown but evidently significant presence. The lead car's door swung open, unleashing an aura of intrigue and anticipation that hung heavy in the air.

From one of the waiting cars, a foreboding figure emerged, draped entirely in obsidian attire that seemed to absorb the very light around him. His presence alone sent tremors of fear through the guards, who quaked in his shadow, their breaths held as if any sound could lead to their swift demise.

This man was no ordinary figure; he was the embodiment of ruthlessness, a specter of malevolence, and perhaps the most feared individual across the entire globe. His name sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals. He was R.M., the second-in-command of the Mafia, a man whose reputation surpassed even that of the Mafia's kingpins.

The world had many names for him – some called him a demon, others a devil, and still, others branded him as a beast. He was considered the personification of dread, a living nightmare. His name alone carried a brand of terror that could render even the most innocent person petrified.

R.M. was renowned as the most notorious criminal in the world, his criminal empire spanning activities like sandalwood smuggling and drug trafficking. But in a paradoxical twist, he was an exception among his nefarious counterparts. He had never harbored illicit desires for women, and he had never cast a lascivious gaze upon any. In this, he remained an anomaly, free from the taint of perversion and the playboy image that stained the reputations of other mafia lords.

It was a chilling irony that amidst the darkest criminal underworld, this man stood as a paragon of unfaltering virtue, at least in one aspect.

The guards stood frozen, their faces etched with terror as their superior, the man known as R.M., looked upon them with his frigid gaze. One brave or perhaps foolish guard stepped forward, bowing his head to address the man. With a trembling voice, he began, "Sir, he's in here, and he's not eaten for days. We had to wake him from his delirium caused by the lack of food and water." But his words were abruptly cut short.

In the blink of an eye, R.M. produced a firearm and discharged it with ruthless precision, a single shot resonating through the grim room as it pierced the guard's skull. The lifeless body slumped to the ground, a macabre testament to the man's unwavering cruelty.

Turning his steely gaze toward the remaining guards, R.M. issued a command that sent shivers down their spines. "Remove his body. I have no desire to lay eyes on him for another second." The guards scrambled to comply, moving the lifeless corpse with fearful urgency. They did so not out of respect but out of sheer terror, fully aware that R.M. was a harbinger of the most agonizing and dreadful demise imaginable.

It was a fate that no one wished to meet at the hands of R.M., for they knew that his brand of death was the epitome of torment, a malevolent punishment that exceeded even the darkest nightmares.

R.M. entered the foreboding mansion, exuding an aura of menacing authority. As he settled into a chair opposite the frail and trembling man who had been bound, it was clear that this was a display of dominance. His demeanor was regal, as if he were the ruler of all he surveyed. The captive, his face pallid and weak, gathered the courage to speak.

His voice quivered with fear as he questioned, "Who are you? I don't know you. I haven't done anything. Why are you doing this to me? What's my crime? I've never even seen you before. Who are you, and what have I done to deserve this?"

R.M. peered at him for a moment, his lips curling into an evil smile. He responded with a cold, calculated tone, "What? I can't hear you. My dear fellow, your 'crime' is not just a mere misdeed. It's a sin, a grave sin. You committed a heinous act. You dared to cause an accident, didn't you?"

The trembling man stammered, "What accident?"

R.M. retorted, "What accident? Allow me to jog your memory. It was a white car, license plate 6666, right outside the amusement park. You struck a girl and callously fled the scene at a breakneck speed of 100 kilometers per hour. You can't remember the car now?"

Terror coursed through the man's veins as he realized the implications. He stammered, "That car?"

R.M. affirmed, "Yes, indeed. That very car. You were responsible for that accident. Do you recall now? Oh, don't tell me you forgot. I had the inkling that you might have. But no, you did not merely cause an accident; it appeared to be an attempted murder, didn't it? Don't deny it. I know who supplied you the money to carry out this malevolent act. You're at fault, and the pieces are falling into place for everyone to see."

The captive man, still trembling and now more fearful than ever, mustered the courage to question his captor further. "Who are you? Huh? Are you related to that girl?" His voice wavered as he spoke, and he stumbled over his words.

R.M. remained unfazed by the man's inquiries. "You know," he began, his tone cold and unyielding, "in all my years, no one has dared to question me like you are doing now. Your audacity is quite something, but courage alone won't save you."

With a swift motion, R.M. rose from his seat and issued a chilling command to his guards. "Do not feed anything to my dear Rocky. Remember that. Starve him. And when he is ravenous, place this man in front of him. Let Rocky feast upon him. Torture this man until he begs for death."

He leaned in closer, his eyes filled with a malevolence that sent shivers down the spines of the guards. "And if I hear even a whisper that you showed him any mercy, you'll regret it. You know the extent of what I can do." With that, R.M. left the room.

The guards breathed a collective sigh of relief as they watched R.M.'s cars depart from the mansion. The captive man began to shout, but the guards turned a deaf ear, knowing that their own survival depended on following R.M.'s orders to the letter.

As the man's desperate cries echoed through the mansion, it was clear that his fate was sealed in a horrifying and merciless manner, courtesy of R.M. and his fearsome pet, Rocky the tiger.

Everyone is confused right that who was this man tied over there,so let me clear it for you all that he was the person who tried to did the accident Akanksha outside the amusement park.

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What is the real identity of R.M?

And How he is related to Akanksha?Any guesses.

Vote and comment if you like this chapter.

PRAISE THE LORD.