THE RAIJYADA PROPOSAL

PART : 6 RACE AGAINST SHADOWS

The cold, musty air hung heavy in the dimly lit room, clinging to Anvi’s skin as though it intended to suffocate her.

Her wrists throbbed, the ropes digging deeper with every slight movement.

Exhaustion clouded her mind, but her determination burned fiercely. She refused to give in.

Despite the laughter of her captors and the ever-present shadow of fear, one thought kept her anchored:

Ansh will come for me. He will.

But as minutes stretched into hours, and hours into days, the creeping doubt tried to take root.

From her corner, she watched the men in the room with sharp, unyielding eyes.

The leader, tall and wiry with a face hardened by years of cruelty, paced like a predator preparing to pounce. His voice was sharp, filled with venom as he barked orders.

“Move her tomorrow morning. Raijyada’s getting too close for comfort. We need him chasing ghosts while we finish the job.”

A younger, less experienced man shifted nervously nearby, his hesitation obvious. “But what if he finds us before then?”

The leader shot him a glare, his lips curling into a sneer. “He won’t. He’s desperate, predictable. And if he does…”

His gaze shifted to Anvi, lingering with a disturbing mix of malice and amusement. “Well, Raijyada won’t like what’s left.”

Anvi’s stomach tightened at the words, her pulse racing. The fear threatened to consume her, but she forced herself to stay strong. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.

Straightening her back, she leveled her gaze at the leader. The defiance in her eyes was unmistakable.

He chuckled darkly, his laugh low and menacing. “Feisty, aren’t we? Let’s see how long that lasts.”

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A Moment of Resolve

When the men finally left her alone, Anvi let her head fall against the rough wood of the chair, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Her body was a symphony of pain—raw wrists, aching limbs, and the constant thrum of exhaustion—but her mind was sharp, refusing to give up.

She had overheard enough. They planned to move her. If she didn’t act now, she might never see Ansh again.

Her gaze darted around the room, taking in every detail.

One of the men had carelessly left a phone on a nearby crate. Her heart leaped. It was a slim chance, but it was something.

Carefully, painstakingly, Anvi began to shift her weight, inching the chair closer to the crate. Each movement sent a jolt of pain through her wrists, the coarse ropes cutting into her skin. She bit her lip to stifle any sound, her focus unwavering.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the crate. She stretched further, her breath hitching as she finally felt the cold metal of the phone. But just as her fingers curled around it—

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The younger man’s voice rang out, sharp and accusing. He stormed over and grabbed her arm roughly, dragging her back.

The chair tipped, slamming her against the floor. Pain exploded across her back, but she refused to cry out.

“You think you’re clever?” he snarled, his hand flying across her cheek with a crack. The sting brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away, her glare unwavering.