Born To Be His Only One

CHAPTER 4

The ballroom had turned into a warzone in mere seconds, and the once-glamorous party was now in shambles. Guests, dressed in their finest gowns and tuxedos, scrambled for cover, hiding behind ornate pillars or flipping tables to shield themselves. Glasses shattered on the floor, and the echoes of bullets rang out over the frantic screams.

Sonam and Aarav crouched behind the bar, guns drawn. The weight of the moment pressed on them, but they were no strangers to danger. They thrived in it.

Aarav peeked over the edge of the counter, scanning the masked attackers as they moved methodically through the room. "Five men," he muttered, analyzing their movements. "Two at the entrance, three covering the exits. They're here for someone."

Sonam gave him a sharp look. "Or something."

Aarav’s eyes flicked to her. "Or someone like you."

She didn’t flinch, her face remaining impassive. “Or you.”

Vishakha, on the other side of the room, was already in action. Her movements were swift, deadly, as she disarmed one of the attackers with ease. She’d moved so quickly that by the time the man realized his gun was gone, Vishakha had already cracked him across the face with the butt of the weapon, sending him crashing to the ground. The sound of bone breaking was drowned out by the chaos around them.

Aarav watched her, impressed. "Your friend’s not bad."

Sonam smirked, keeping her focus on the enemy. "She’s better than ‘not bad.’ She’s lethal."

"I’ll keep that in mind," Aarav replied, his tone casual despite the situation. His eyes followed the remaining assailants. "We need to split them up."

Sonam nodded in agreement. "On three."

Without waiting for his response, she counted down. "One... two... three!"

They moved as one. Aarav sprang from his hiding spot, firing two quick shots that took down one of the attackers near the entrance. His movements were fluid, precise, the mark of a man who had spent his life in situations like this. Sonam dashed in the opposite direction, her gun aimed at the two men guarding the exits. She fired with deadly accuracy, dropping one instantly with a shot to the chest.

The second man raised his weapon, but Sonam was already too quick. She ducked low and fired again, the bullet grazing his shoulder. He staggered back, clutching the wound, but before he could recover, Sonam closed the distance between them. With a swift kick, she knocked the gun from his hand and followed it up with a punch to his jaw that sent him sprawling.

Across the room, Vishakha was holding her own, having already incapacitated another of the attackers. She stood over his unconscious body, her eyes scanning the room for the remaining threats.

The battle was over as quickly as it had begun. The last of the masked men crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. The guests, still hiding behind overturned tables and furniture, slowly began to emerge, their faces pale with fear. The once grand party had turned into a massacre, and the ballroom was littered with broken glass, bullet casings, and unconscious bodies.

Aarav and Sonam stood amidst the wreckage, their guns still raised, breathing heavily from the intensity of the fight. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, neither of them said a word. There was a newfound respect between them—born not just from their shared danger, but from witnessing each other’s lethal precision in action.

Vishakha, now standing beside Sonam, gave a low whistle. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Sonam holstered her gun, glancing around at the aftermath. "This wasn’t random," she said, her voice low but laced with certainty. "They came here with a purpose."