His Bleeding Rose

MONSTER

As I entered the house, the air was thick with unease. Every step I took echoed in the silence, amplifying the heaviness that loomed like a storm cloud. This was a battlefield. The gate slammed shut behind me with a metallic clang, the sound reverberating through the halls like a warning.

I stopped in the center of the hall, my senses sharp. I could feel the weight of unseen eyes on me. It was a trap. I knew it. I could smell the deceit lingering in the air.

"I have a meeting," I called out, my voice calm but with an edge of impatience. "Let's end it. I don't have all day."

A voice answered from the shadows, low and venomous. "Oh, don't worry. We're here to end it."

I turned toward the source, and there he was—Mohit, stepping into the light. His face was a mess of scars, one particularly nasty cut slicing across his cheek like a permanent reminder of Adhiraj's wrath.

"Mohit," I said, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Still breathing? I thought Adhiraj killed you."

His face contorted with rage, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I'll kill that bastard myself," he growled. "But not before tasting his wife."

The disgust in his words made my stomach churn, but before I could respond, two more figures emerged from the shadows. One of them made my blood run cold. Depender Chaudhary—Mahima's father.

My eyes narrowed. "What's he doing here?" I asked, my tone sharp as a blade.

"Good to see you, beta," came another voice—one I knew too well. My father, Jaiveer Rajvansh, stepped forward, his smirk as vile as ever.

I clenched my fists. "Really, Papa?" I asked, glaring at him. "I knew you couldn't change, but I didn't think you'd stoop this low. Assembling a team to come after me? To defeat your own daughter?"

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Defeat you? No, we're here to kill you," he said, his voice as cold as ice.

Depender's rage flared as he stepped closer. "You murdered both of my children," he spat, his voice shaking with fury.

"Mahima and Anurag deserved it," I said, my tone casual, even dismissive.

Papa tossed a stack of papers onto the table. "Sign them," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I picked up the papers, flipping through them slowly. "Property papers," I said, my voice dripping with mockery. "Desperate for the haveli, are we? What's wrong, Papa? Is business so bad that you're selling your own father's property now?"

"It's not just the haveli," Mohit cut in, his voice laced with greed. "I want your company too."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound sharp and biting. "My company?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "And why the fuck would I give it to you? Are you my child? Am I your mommy, darling?"