# 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
Aayansh Agniwanshi a king of jaipur and CEO of Agniwanshi CO. Lit. A mafia king with ruthless, grumpy, cold.
'Love is a trap. When it appears, we see only its light, not its shadows.' A...
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Spain - Two Months Later
The room was dimly lit, the golden glow of dawn barely filtering through the half-drawn curtains. A man stood before the mirror, fastening the cuffs of his crisp black shirt with slow, precise movements. His reflection stared back-cold, unreadable, and dangerously calm.
A leather watch clicked into place around his wrist. He reached for the gun on the nightstand, checking the magazine before slipping it into the holster beneath his tailored coat. Every action was methodical, as if he had done it a thousand times before.
Outside, the city of Madrid pulsed with life, but inside the penthouse, there was only silence.
A phone vibrated on the polished wooden table. Without looking, he picked it up and pressed it to his ear.
"Everything is in place, sir."
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he walked to the window, watching the skyline with an impassive gaze.
"Good," he finally said, his voice smooth yet carrying a weight that demanded obedience.
The call disconnected. He slipped the phone into his pocket, his fingers brushing against something small and metallic.
A hair clip.
His hand stilled for a fraction of a second. The cool metal pressed against his palm, an unwelcome reminder of something-someone-he had left behind.
His jaw tightened. With a sharp exhale, he shoved it back into his pocket and turned on his heel.
The city was waiting.
The world knew him by many names. But only one mattered.
As he stepped out of the shadows and into the light, the world finally saw him.
Aayansh Agniwanshi.
Aayansh stepped into the underground garage beneath a luxury hotel, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the sleek black cars lined up in neat rows. His footsteps echoed against the cold concrete as he approached a waiting SUV.
Inside, his men sat in tense silence, their expressions unreadable. The air was thick with unspoken words, but no one dared to break it until he did.
He slid into the backseat, and the moment the door shut, his right-hand man, Rafael, turned around from the passenger seat.
"The shipment is ready, boss. The buyers will be at the docks at midnight."
Aayansh leaned back, his face devoid of emotion. "And the women?" His voice was calm, but the deadly undertone made the temperature in the car drop.
Rafael hesitated before answering. "Still locked in the warehouse. We intercepted them before they could be sold to the cartel, but the leader got away. Emiliano is handling the cleanup."
