His Dangerous Embrace

A Hope

Chapter 3

"When hope had vanished like a fleeting dream, he remained, the last light in the darkest gleam."

(Kai's pov)

I stood at the edge of the tent, observing the sea of devotees. The air was thick with the sound of chants, the murmur of prayers, and the pungent scent of incense. It all transported me back to the first day I came here with the man who both forged and shattered my existence—the man whose name still chills the blood of those who hear it: Vikrant Massey.

Vikrant's legacy as the most feared drug lord lives on, a shadow that stretches over everything I do. If someone asked me to explain the turmoil of emotions I feel toward him, I wouldn't know where to begin. He gave me everything from the start—education, luxury, wealth, power, even his position after his death. Yet, in giving me all that, he also robbed me of my sanity. He molded me into a weapon, sharpening me against the grindstone of cruelty, and then hurled me headfirst into a world of crime and illegality.

What made it all the more perplexing was his unwavering devotion to religion. Despite being a man with so much blood on his hands, Vikrant never abandoned his spiritual practices. Every day, without fail, he would offer prayers to the goddesses of Hinduism, as if seeking their forgiveness or perhaps their protection. It was a strange juxtaposition—a gangster so devout, yet so ruthless. He held a deep respect for women, though he never took a wife or lover. Perhaps that respect was rooted in his faith, a small sliver of virtue in an otherwise dark soul.

It's been ten years since Vikrant left this world, leaving behind everything he had built. And here I am, still keeping his memory alive through these rituals, even though I don't believe in them as he did. I suppose it's my way of honoring him, a man I both despised and admired. I go through the motions, not out of faith, but out of some inexplicable need to connect with the only person who ever truly shaped my life.

As I approached the deity of Goddess Kali, a sense of solemnity washed over me. I knelt before her, bowing my head in reverence, just as Vikrant used to do. The priest stepped forward, placing his hand on my head, murmuring words of blessing. I felt the weight of tradition settle over me, a ritual I continued in Vikrant's memory, though my heart had long since abandoned any real faith.

Just as I finished my prayer, my phone buzzed, shattering the moment of calm. It was a call from one of my men, the one I had tasked with overseeing the shipment of drugs to another country.

I rose swiftly, my mind snapping back to the reality of the life I lead. As I moved out of the tent, my guards fell into step behind me, their presence a silent reminder of the world I could never escape. "Get the car ready," I ordered, already picking up the call as I stepped into the darkness of night.

I stepped into the night, the cool air biting against my skin as I lifted the phone to my ear. The call connected with a sharp click, and I could hear the nervous breathing on the other end before a voice finally broke the silence.

I stepped into the night, the cool air doing little to calm the fire building inside me as I lifted the phone to my ear. The call connected, and I could hear the shaky breath on the other end—a telltale sign that something was wrong.

"Boss, we've got a problem," the voice trembled, barely masking the fear behind it.

"What kind of problem?" I asked, my voice low and lethal, each word sharp enough to cut through steel.

"The shipment... there's been a delay," the man stammered, his words stumbling over themselves in a desperate rush. "Customs got suspicious. We had to pull back before they could inspect the crates. I—I didn't want to risk—"

"You didn't want to risk what?" I cut him off, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You think pulling back was the safe move? Do you even understand the shitstorm you've just created?"

"Boss, I'm sorry," he choked out, panic creeping into his tone.

(Author's pov)

Esme continued running as fast as she could without any break, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Suddenly, her feet got caught on a bump in the road, sending her sprawling to the ground. She winced as she felt the sharp sting of her elbow scraping the rough asphalt. But she knew she couldn't stop. With a groan, she pushed herself to her feet, each step now a jolt of pain. She had already pushed herself beyond her limits, her muscles screaming for relief, but rest was a luxury she couldn't afford. Desperately, she scanned her surroundings for a place to hide.

Her eyes landed on a large tent, draped in vibrant colors and surrounded by a throng of people. It looked like some sort of religious event. An idea sparked in her mind: if she could blend into the crowd, it would be much harder for her pursuers to find her. Without hesitating, she plunged into the sea of bodies, navigating her way through the mass of people with as much caution as she could muster, all the while keeping a wary eye on the entrance.

To her dismay, she spotted the menacing figures of her pursuers at the entrance, their eyes scanning the crowd for her. Panic surged through her veins, and she pushed deeper into the tent. As she moved further inside, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew thick with incense and the sound of devotional chants. Her eyes were drawn to the center of the tent, where a towering idol of a goddess stood, exuding an aura of fierce divinity.

Esme's breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the goddess. The figure was unmistakably that of Kali, the dark mother. Her skin was as black as the moonless night, her eyes blazing with the fury of a thousand storms. Her tongue hung out, dripping with the blood of vanquished demons. The idol radiated a terrifying yet protective energy, as if it were a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.

Above the idol, a sign proclaimed, "May Mother Kali protect all of us from evil." The words resonated deeply within Esme, offering a sliver of solace in her dire situation. She gazed at the goddess with a mix of awe and desperation, feeling a strange comfort in the deity's fearsome presence. There was something destructively divine about Kali's form, a promise of protection against all that sought to harm.

Esme saw people of all kinds offering rice, fruits, lentils, and whatever they could afford to the goddess Kali. She overheard a woman praying fervently, "Praise the goddess who preserves goodness and saves this universe from all kinds of evil. I bow my head to you, Divine Mother Kali." The priest, with a solemn expression, applied a vibrant red color to the woman's forehead as a mark of blessing and devotion.

Esme watched the scene with a mix of curiosity and reverence. She had nothing tangible to offer, but she closed her eyes and prayed inwardly, "Mother Kali, please save me from those evil men." She knew she couldn't stay in one place for too long; it was too dangerous. Just as she was about to slip away, someone jostled her, causing the contents of a small container filled with red powder to spill over her head and hair.

She spun around to apologize, but the person had already vanished into the crowd. Reaching up to touch her face, she felt the smear of the same red color the priest had been applying to the devotees' foreheads. Esme took this unexpected event as a sign, a blessing from the goddess. The red powder, now covering her hair and face, might help obscure her identity from her pursuers.

Seeing it as an opportunity, Esme continued to weave her way through the tent, blending in with the devotees. The vibrant color on her face gave her a sense of anonymity and protection, a small but significant shield against the dangers that lurked outside.

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