[Sequel of Warm Love, hence can't be read as a standalone.]
In the first phase, Reyansh concealed a web of mysteries, but as they stand face to face once more, it's Kiraz who holds the tantalizing secrets waiting to be unveiled. These hidden truths...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The white shirt was drenched in crimson red—thankfully, not my own, but that of the fucking assholes who stood before me, their ego practically oozing from their every pore. Having the thought that they could take me down, but that's where they were wrong. There's a vast difference between us. They can only dream and scheme. I think, act, and sometimes act before I think.
My arms throbbed from the bullet wound I'd picked up earlier, a fiery ache that refused to fade. I leveled my gun and put a bullet right between his brows—one shot, then another, and another.
She hates scars.
I move away from yet another dead body. Blood drained on the floor. My shoes leaving trails of bloody prints on the concrete floor. I squat to the one who was leaning on the wall. His hands clutched against his stomach. I crouched before him. His eye barely open. Consciousness barely hanging before his eye. His phone has been ringing since past a minute.
On seeing me, he squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, as if that would change his fate. I sighed and nudged his head with the nozzle of my gun. "You're terrible at this. Might as well give it up."
His eyes barely opened, and he sobbed, "Don't kill me, please," pressing his bloodied palm together in a desperate plea. If only he was begging before a real person, not before someone whose monster had fully emerged. Taken over him. Sweat and blood dripped from my forehead.
"Got a cigarette?" I asked.
He winced. "In my back pocket."
I reached into his back pocket, grimacing at the unwelcome contact, my fingers skimping to his ass. I grabbed the box, pulled out a cigarette, and stuck it between my teeth. "Lighter?"
"In my front pocket."
I rolled my eyes. "When you go to hell, don't complain to the devils that I molested you before killing you." I pulled out the lighter, flicked it on, and brought it to the cigarette. "Who's calling you so much, man?" I asked, watching his face go ashen.
I picked up the vibrating BlackBerry phone, the screen lighting up. "Oh, looks like you've picked up the call," I said with a smirk.
"What!? Where are those useless men?" A hollow familiar voice demanded from the other end. He was talking to someone else.
"Dead," I replied, taking a deep drag of the cigarette.
"So, you're still alive," the voice rasped. The one before me blinked his eye, looking at me with hope.
I shot him, ending his life in a single, decisive blow. His hopeful eye was a sore sight "Very much alive. Fit and fine. And once I deal with these petty men of yours, I'm coming for you. If I see even a single scar on her, your own skin will pay for it." I meant every word.
There was a brief silence before her voice cut through, trembling and frightened. "Reyansh..."
My heart nearly stopped. "I'm coming for you," was all I managed to say, my voice heavy with urgency. The pain in my chest was almost unbearable, crawling its way into my mind. I couldn't afford to let it distract me. Her mere thought threatened to pull me off course, something I couldn't allow.
