Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Before anyone could react, the bike skidded to a halt—inches from where Rishabh now lay, stunned, having dropped to the ground in pure shock.
The engine snarled, revving harder, the sound deafening as the front wheel edged closer and closer to Rishabh’s frozen form, making him instinctively crawl back on elbows, dirt smearing across his royal suit.
The Raigarh guards were frozen, hands on their weapons, ready to charge—until they saw their king lying in the dirt, the bike nearly touching him.
None dared move.
The biker sat still.
Black helmet.
All black leather.
Silent.
Except for the growling engine.
The front wheel inched forward, forcing Rishabh to crawl further back in pure humiliation and panic, dirt smearing across his clothes as his hands scrambled for balance.
“Who… who the hell is this?!” Rishabh spat, his voice cracking, the first hint of fear creeping into his arrogance.
Krish froze for a second, his heart stopping as he watched the biker.
He gulped, throat dry.
No… not now. Please, not her.
He didn’t want it to be Ishana.
Not here.
Not now.
Not in front of Rishabh.
Kunal and Eric mirrored the same tension beside him, their bodies stiff. A silent, unspoken fear clawed at them.
What if Rishabh found out?
What if he realised Ishana was still alive?
Krish’s jaw clenched.
Kunal’s fingers twitched near his sidearm.
Eric’s usual calm expression cracked into something tense, sharp.
Then, slowly… the biker reached up.
And pulled off the helmet.
The dry desert wind howled, catching the silence in its grasp.
Rishabh’s eyes widened in horror as the face was revealed.
Yug Samarth.
The young, ruthless, and infamously unpredictable ACP of Delhi Special Crime Branch.
