Karan sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The room was a blend of luxury and restraint—heavy silk curtains, intricately carved furniture, and the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. He felt a strange mix of awe and unease.
He stretched, feeling the stiffness in his muscles from the uncomfortable night on the sofa. The events of the past day weighed heavily on him, but there was no time to dwell. Abhimanyu was already moving, his presence commanding and unyielding.
Karan’s gaze drifted to the window, where the first rays of sunlight painted the desert landscape in hues of gold and orange. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever the day might bring.
Abhimanyu, already dressed and composed, stood by the window, his back to Karan. Without turning, he spoke, his voice calm but commanding.
“You need to freshen up. Use the washroom,” Abhimanyu said, gesturing towards a door on the far side of the room.
Karan hesitated, unsure if this was some test or a genuine offer. He slowly got up and walked towards the door.
The washroom was as luxurious as the rest of the room—marble floors, gold fixtures, and a large, ornate mirror. Karan took a deep breath. Trying to steady his nerves, he turned on the Shower.
A cascade of warm water poured over him, washing away the grime and tension of the night. The steam began to fill the bathroom, creating a hazy cocoon around him.
He closed his eyes, letting the water run through his hair and down his face, feeling the droplets trace paths along his skin. Each drop seemed to carry away a piece of his anxiety, leaving him feeling lighter. His muscles relaxed under the steady stream, the warmth seeping into his bones.
After some time, the door creaked open. Karan stepped out, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He had hastily thrown on a shirt, but his hair remained tousled, damp strands falling over his forehead.
He looked up and his eyes met a horrifying scene.
Abhimanyu stood over his victim, his eyes cold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the opulent surroundings. The room, adorned with rich tapestries and intricate carvings, seemed to mock the brutality unfolding within its walls.
Abhimanyu wielded a small, sharp knife with an almost surgical precision, his hands steady as he inflicted pain. The victim’s muffled cries echoed off the walls as the knife slid across his chest oozing out thick blood. The slow and painful torture made his eyes roll back into his head.
Karan was too scared to even move an inch. He had seen violence before, but this was different. There was a cold detachment in Abhimanyu’s actions, a ruthless efficiency that was both terrifying and strangely mesmerizing. The way Abhimanyu’s eyes never wavered, the way his lips curled into a slight, almost satisfied smile, made Karan’s blood run cold.
"If I don't find that file on my table by evening, I will rip your heart out"
Abhimanyu stood up tossing the knife around his fingers as the middle-aged man dragged his body out of the door.
Karan was mortified inside. A slow realization began to hit him. The man, with whom he was standing alone in the room, was the live manifestation of all the heinous crimes said to be directed by Rathores and narrated by the locals. One mistake, and he would be next.
Abhimanyu looked behind to see the young boy frozen in fear. His gaze lingered on Karan, taking in the way the morning light played on his wet skin, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
"Since how long are you standing here?"
Karan Panicked, "1-1 minute?"
Abhimanyu smirked as he looked at the clock,
"You took one hour to take a bath, what were you doing? Pretending to be a mermaid?"
Karan stood in his place, the eerie image of the man screaming as the knife pierced his skin still playing in his head.
"Come, eat some breakfast," Abhimanyu gestured at the two plates placed at the small table.
*"Thank God there is a plate for me"* Karan thought to himself,
Abhimanyu took his seat, ah the classic bread and half-fried egg, he loved it.
Karan slowly approached the table. Hesitantly, he picked his plate up, "I-I will sit on the floor"
Before he could turn around, Abhimanyu put his fork down and darted his hand out in a swift, motion. Fingers curling around Karan’s wrist with a painful and firm grip, he casually took another bite through the fork.
"What's with the floor nonsense? You don't even belong to that of a lower caste"
Karan raised a brow in disbelief,
"Sit"
Karan did as he was told, he looked at the white plate in front of him. Along with it, a fork and knife were placed. *"I have never eaten with a fork and a knife.."*
A little embarrassed, the young boy fumbled with the fork and knife, his fingers clumsy and unsure.
Abhimanyu who had already finished, watched him with a mix of amusement. Without much thought, he got up and stood behind Karan.
“Here, let me show you,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
Karan’s breath hitched as Abhimanyu moved closer, his presence was overwhelming. Abhimanyu’s hands, strong and sure, enveloped Karan’s, guiding the fork and knife with practiced ease. Karan could feel the heat radiating from Abhimanyu’s body, the scent of his cologne intoxicating.
“Like this,” Abhimanyu murmured, his breath warm against Karan’s ear.
Karan’s heart raced, a confusing mix of fear and something he couldn’t quite name.
"Here, now try it yourself"
Abhimanyu backed off as he was interrupted by a phone call.
"Bhaiya, there's no need for that stupid function"
He scorned making the younger boy curious about who he was talking to.
"Fine," the call was ended abruptly.
"How old are you?"
"..16"
"Have you ever tried drinking?"
The young boy remembered how his religious parents frowned upon any kind of addiction.
"No.."
"Innocent much?"
Karan continued to eat his breakfast, a part of him wondered why was Abhimanyu being so generous.
"Faster, you have to work all day"
Sighing, Karan took another bite.
~~~
YOU ARE READING
Song Of The Scorpions
Novela Juvenil♤ A son who is just like his father, except that he really likes a boy.
