'Devil In Love' 𝗦𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗢𝗻𝗲
•𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆•
Anirudh Roy Chowdhury a well-known billionaire and mafia king.
Bondita Das a simple, innocent girl.
Anirudh, a formidable figu...
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I glared at the dead body in front of me.
My hands trembled, my breath came out ragged, and my vision blurred. I was the only fucking one who had killed this innocent woman.
Just because she knew a fucking truth.
The gun slipped from my grip, clattering against the blood-soaked ground, and I stumbled back. My stomach churned. My father's laughter rang in my ears, making my skin crawl.
"Come on, Anirudh!" Baba's voice was filled with amusement, as if this was nothing but a mere business deal to him. "That girl inside... she'll fetch a good price. We can sell her-"
I whipped around, my blood boiling. "She's a goddamn fucking kid, Baba!! How can you?"
But my father... he only smirked.
Binoy took slow steps toward me, his expression unreadable. "What's the problem, Anirudh? You already pulled the trigger once. What's stopping you now?"
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My chest heaved with rage and disgust. I had just killed a woman who had once cared for me-because of him. And now, he wanted to sell a child?
I took a shaky breath and turned toward the house. My feet moved before I could think. I had to get to her. I had to-
But before I could take another step, a sharp grip on my wrist yanked me back. Binoy's fingers dug into my skin, his eyes dark with warning. "Don't act like a fucking hero, Anirudh. You're already in this. You don't get to back out now."
My stomach twisted. I knew what he meant. He was going to make me watch-watch as that little girl suffered, just like he had made me watch countless others before.
Not this time.
I yanked my arm free and took off toward the house.
I rushed inside, my heart pounding like a war drum. The air inside the house was thick, suffocating, carrying the scent of burnt wood and something metallic-blood. My breath hitched as I called out, my voice hoarse, desperate.
"Bacha?... Bacha, where are you?"
Silence.
Only the faintest whisper of the wind through the broken windows answered me. But then-there.
