Winds of Destiny

Chapter 7

(The Game Begins)

In a lavishly decorated room adorned with golden chandeliers, expensive paintings, and rich tapestries, the old woman reclined in a luxurious chair. Her fingers drummed lightly on the table as she delicately ate her food, her movements slow and precise, exuding an aura of absolute control. Two men, dressed in black suits, stood tensely in front of her, their bodies stiff with anxiety. The air around them felt heavy with unease.

One of the men cleared his throat, his voice shaky as he spoke, "Rana... Rana didn't get the project. Just like you wanted, ma'am." He gulped, a visible tremor running through him. His eyes darted toward her, hoping for a favorable response. "Please... please leave my daughter now."

The old woman leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting lazily towards the grand glass chandelier hanging above them. She wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin, letting a small smirk tug at her lips. "Itni bhi kya jaldi hai?" she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. "Apni bahu thodi na banaungi usse... Your daughter is safe with me, and I will leave her too. But..." She paused, savoring their dread, "you have to do one more thing for me."

The words seemed to drain the last bit of hope from the man's face. He looked as though the ground beneath him had given way, leaving him free-falling into despair. He nodded helplessly, his shoulders slumping, knowing he was trapped.

The old woman's expression grew colder, more calculating, as she continued, her eyes fixed on the shimmering chandelier above. "Finish Meera Jai Pratap Rana," she commanded, her tone as smooth as silk but as sharp as a blade. The names seemed to hang in the air like a noose tightening around their necks.

The two men stiffened, horror seeping into their expressions as they imagined the faces of Jai Pratap Rana and Shankar Rana. A chill ran down their spines, and they felt the weight of the impossible task settle on their shoulders. Their breaths quickened, hearts pounding like war drums, as the terror of crossing the Rana family enveloped them.

The old woman noticed their fear and let out a mocking, almost childlike laugh. She leaned forward, her demeanor shifting to that of a predator toying with her prey. "Oh, come now," she said, her tone playful but laced with menace. "What's this? You tremble at the mere mention of the Ranas, but not at the sight of me?"

Her smile vanished in an instant, replaced by a dangerous glint in her eyes. She grabbed a knife from the table, her fingers closing around the handle with a casual grace that belied the violence in her heart. In a flash, she closed the distance to one of the men, gripping his collar tightly, pressing the cold edge of the knife near his left eye. Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. "I don't know what the Ranas will do to you, but if you don't do my work... I surely kill. You... and your whole family." She paused, letting the knife trail across his skin, her smile returning—wicked and gleeful. "Or perhaps... I'll sell your daughter. How does that sound, hmm?"

The man's eyes widened, terror freezing his very breath. He dropped to his knees, begging, his voice breaking. "No... please, ma'am, I'll do whatever you say! Just don't harm my daughter!"

She released him with a shove, watching him stumble back, then turned her attention to the second man. As she took a step toward him, he flinched, his fear almost palpable. Her lips twisted into a slow, mocking smile as she saw him shrink away. The satisfaction of their terror made her laugh, a low, chilling sound that echoed through the room. "Yes... you should fear me. Only ME. Not the Ranas."

She leaned closer, her eyes boring into theirs, and with a sinister grin, she whispered, "You should fear Dhenuki Chauhan."

The name slipped out like a curse, sending another wave of dread through the men. Dhenuki Chauhan—the very name carried a weight of legend, like the demon Dhenukasur reborn. And as her laughter faded, they knew they were trapped in her web, with no way out.