In the heart of Mumbai's Vibrant chaous, Rhishav Shekhawat, 30-year-old CEO, strode in his Skyscraper office,a fortess build on ambition.
''Another deal, another victory,'' he muttered to himself,masking the emptiness dawing at his insides.
Meanwhil...
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Author's POV:-
The last bite of Pohe tasted like ash in Kaira's mouth. She set the crust down, her appetite long gone, and pushed the plate away with a faint clang that seemed to echo too loudly in the otherwise silent kitchen. Her footsteps back to her room were soft, almost hesitant, as if she feared disturbing the fragile quiet that always seemed to precede something unsettling.
The television flickered to life, its artificial light a poor substitute for warmth. She wasn't really watching; the drone of voices was just a buffer against the suffocating silence. Bending down, she fumbled beneath the worn cushions of her armchair, searching for her forgotten phone.
Then, a reporter's urgent, breathless voice sliced through the mundane.
"—latest in a series of horrific crimes. Last night, five men were found dead in the city's industrial district. Each victim bore the chilling mark of a carved seven-sword emblem on their chest, a symbol consistent with the previous attacks. Further details, too graphic for television, report brutal mutilation..."
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Kaira froze, her hand still under the cushion, fingers brushing cold metal. Her eyes were riveted to the screen, where blurred, redacted images flashed – five lifeless forms, each with a gaping, dark cavity where a chest should be, a stark, bloody carving visible even through the pixelation. A shiver, icy and relentless, snaked up her spine, tightening its grip around her heart.
Unconsciously, she hugged her knees to her chest, her voice a thin, shaky whisper, barely audible over the rising tide of static in her ears. "Who... who could do such things?" Her gaze, wide and haunted, remained fixed on the grim tableau. "And why? Why only men?" The question was a plea, a desperate search for reason in the face of incomprehensible horror.
A low, resonant voice shattered the air, making her heart violently lurch against her ribs.
"I think you're wrong."
Her head snapped toward the doorway. Rishav stood there, a formidable silhouette against the softer light of the hallway. He leaned casually against the doorframe, yet his towering presence seemed to consume the entire space, casting long, encroaching shadows across the room. His gaze was a dark, unreadable ocean, steady and piercing, and Kaira felt an oppressive weight settle over her, suffocating the air from her lungs.
She straightened instantly, clutching the loose end of bedsheet . "What?" The word was a breathless gasp.
"They're not just targeting men," he said, his tone a low rumble that vibrated through the quiet room. He pushed off the doorframe, each deliberate step bringing him closer, his presence expanding, filling the room with an almost palpable, dark energy.
