TRANQUIL RAGE

7 years later

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the opulent wedding venue. Aryan, the enigmatic figure with eyes like storm clouds, stepped out of his sleek black car. His tailored suit clung to his powerful frame, and the air seemed to ripple around him as if acknowledging his presence. The guards stationed at the entrance straightened, their eyes wary yet respectful. They knew who he was—the man who walked the fine line between legend and nightmare.Aryan's gaze swept the courtyard, and there she was: Maya, the delicate flower caught in a tempest. Dressed in bridal finery, her eyes widened as they locked onto his. Recognition flared, and she broke free from the crowd, her white gown billowing like a ghostly apparition. The fire crackled in the ceremonial pit, its flames dancing in rhythm with her racing heart."Maya!" Aryan's voice cut through the chaos, and the guards shifted uneasily. "You don't want this marriage, do you?"Her breath hitched, and she stumbled into his arms. "Aryan, please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I beg you." No need to beg," he said, his lips brushing her forehead. "Just order, my queen."Even one scratch on her and I will myself make your life as hell and make you beg for death gestured, and the guards—trained killers with eyes like steel—swarmed around the groom. Their guns aimed at the man's head, a deadly constellation of vengeance. The groom's bravado faltered, and he laughed nervously. "Kid, you think ten guards are enough to kill me?"Aryan's laughter echoed a dark symphony. He snapped his fingers, and his guards produced machine guns, their barrels gleaming. The groom's face drained of colour. "Start shooting," Aryan said, his voice deceptively calm.In seconds, the courtyard transformed into a battlefield. Blood sprayed, bodies crumpled, and the air thickened with the scent of violence. Aryan moved like a wraith, bullets grazing him but never finding their mark. He found the groom cowering behind a pillar, and his eyes glinted with menace." Who are you?" the groom stammered."My name is Aryan," he replied, his tone as lethal as the guns trained on the man. "Hope that's enough for you."The groom begged for mercy, and Aryan's patience waned. "She's my queen now," he said, his voice slicing through the chaos. "Touch her, and I'll show you hell."Maya's parents arrived, her mother's slap resounding like a gunshot. Aryan's jaw clenched. "Colonel," he addressed Maya's father, "this is the last time I tolerate her."Maya's mother spat venom, and Aryan's bodyguard handed him a gun. He aimed it at her, but the bullets veered away, leaving her untouched. "These can go in your chest," he said, "so close your dirty mouth and keep quiet."The morning sun painted the sky in hues of gold as Aryan stood before the assembled police officers. His voice, calm yet commanding, cut through the tension like a blade."Officers," he began, "you've witnessed the union—the fragile thread that binds two lives. But today, I extend an invitation beyond the mundane. If any of you wish to join us, you are welcome."The officers exchanged glances, torn between duty and curiosity. Aryan's reputation preceded him—an enigma who moved in shadows, leaving ripples of influence in his wake. The marriage had been a mere pretext; the real game was about to begin.As the festivities concluded, Maya led Aryan through the labyrinth of her family home. Portraits of ancestors stared down, their eyes judging the stranger in their midst. Aryan, undeterred, met each gaze with a steely resolve.Maya's father, a retired colonel, studied Aryan. "Who are you, really?" he asked, his voice a whip-crack of authority.Aryan's smile held secrets. "A friend," he replied. "And perhaps more."Maya's mother, softer in her scrutiny, whispered, "Why her?"Aryan's gaze lingered on Maya—the firebrand who defied convention. "Because she sees beyond the surface," he said. "And because, my dear lady, I am here to take her away."Maya's siblings, wide-eyed and intrigued, gathered around. "Where?" they chorused.Aryan's answer was a thunderclap. "Anywhere she desires," he declared. "In two hours, our private jet will be ready at the airport. Pack swiftly, for time is our enemy."Maya's protest died on her lips. "I have no clothes," she stammered.Aryan's laughter echoed. "We'll buy more," he said. "Worry not."As Maya scurried to her room, Aryan surveyed the family portraits. "Colonel," he said, "your daughter is my queen now."The colonel's eyes narrowed. "And what are you?"Aryan leaned in, his breath a promise. "A king," he murmured. "And kings take what they desire."He turned to Maya. "Choose a car," he said, gesturing at the fleet. "Any car."Her eyes widened as she selected a sleek Mercedes. Aryan led her to the airport, where a private jet awaited. The pilot, a loyal friend, greeted Aryan. "Ready to take off, sir."