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A child cried in silence. A man burned in fury.
And somewhere in the dark— a woman waited to be found... or avenged
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Annahita's voice cut through the thick silence like a blade. Low. Steady. But every syllable burned with fury and disbelief.
"Evaansh Raghuvanshi..." She took a step forward, her bare feet brushing against the cold edge of the rug. Her eyes locked onto his—sharp, defiant, unblinking. "What is the meaning of this? Why have you kidnapped me? What the hell is going on?"
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't even shift his weight.
Just stood there—quiet, composed, unreadable.
But his eyes...
They weren't still. No. His eyes held something different. Something unsettling. Like there was a storm churning deep behind stone walls. Old, heavy, locked away for years—but now staring straight at her.
And yet—his face remained still. A mask carved from marble. Not a twitch. Not a hint.
Annahita's hands curled into fists at her sides. Her nostrils flared. She was done being confused. Done being scared. This wasn't shock anymore. This was rage. Cold and focused.
But she didn't scream. Didn't lash out. She just held his gaze like a queen who refused to kneel—even in enemy territory.
And then, after what felt like hours stretched thin over seconds, he finally moved.
Barely.
Just his lips. The faintest shift. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet—almost gentle—but laced with something far more dangerous.
"Miss Thakur..." There was a shadow of something on his lips. Not quite a smile. Certainly not comfort. "Raghuvanshi Villa mein aapka swagat hai"
