Reyansh Malhotra doesn't ask. He takes. The ruthless mafia king with a short fuse and a bloodstained throne, he's feared across the city - until one stolen moment in a dim basement cage halts his world. She wasn't meant to be there. She wasn't meant to survive. And she definitely wasn't meant to slap him. Ira Sharma is a quiet first-year psychology student - thoughtful, composed, and nothing like the desperate women he's used to owning. Trapped in his world by fate, she doesn't flinch when others tremble. She reads his silence like a book and challenges his rage with calm defiance. "There are men who do not beg. And there are women who make them." But Reyansh is a man forged in violence - and Ira, a girl haunted by her own secrets. As their worlds collide in a twisted dance of danger, desire, and slow-burning obsession, lines blur between protector and predator, prisoner and queen. And it all starts with a man who was never meant to be tempted. In a world ruled by power, she becomes his only weakness. But can calm ever survive the fire? It's more of a love story than a mafia story. Cover By: Krishnasakhii02

"Stay right there, Liz," he commanded, his voice cold and controlled, slicing through the quiet empty room. I froze, my heart pounding, knowing resistance would cost me. But something inside me snapped. "I won't," I said, my voice trembling but defiant, barely loud enough to reach him. The words felt foreign, like they belonged to someone braver. He turned, his eyes darkening as he closed the distance between us. "What makes you think you get a choice?" His tone was venomous, and my fleeting courage crumbled, leaving me at the mercy of this monster. Before I could back away or beg, his hand cracked across my face, the sharp sting of the slap forcing me to stumble against the wall. His voice was a venomous hiss: "You are mine to break and mend, Liz. Don't make me prove it again." I'm Lucious Bane, and Liz Wilson is mine-her every step, her every thought, I shape. My control keeps her close, but her defiance stirs a darkness I can't tame, reminding me of my mother's whispering truths. But one thought drives me through the chaos, the only thing that keeps me grounded: CONTROL.

Only for blackhearts 🖤 Witness the descent of Suyodhan - the noble prince - as he is twisted and reborn into the monster history named Duryodhan. This isn't a story of change. It's a story of how a man is made the villain. Read it if you dare to question who was truly right. "I died with my body broken. And opened my eyes... in heaven." Everyone said I was the villain. The cause of the great war. So why did I reach Swarga, while the so-called righteous still wander? I remember being born from a cursed lump of iron. I remember being called evil before I even spoke a word. I remember watching Draupadi being dragged while the so-called great heroes stayed silent. I remember my brother dying as Bhima drank his blood like a beast. I remember Karna dying unarmed and my own thigh broken by a coward's blow. And I ask: "What kind of Dharma cheats to win?" "What kind of truth needs a lie to kill Drona?" "And what kind of justice lets a woman be gambled like a coin?" They called me arrogant. But I stood for my people. I stood by my friend. I asked only for a kingdom I was born to rule. They gave me war. And yet... I am here. "Call me evil, if that's easier for you. But answer me first: if I was so wrong... why am I in heaven?" This is not the story of the victors. This is the unspoken truth of the man they cursed. The story of the last Kaurava. Now it's his turn to speak. This is not the Mahabharata, you know. This is the story your ancestors were afraid to tell. #1 in villainpov

The bar throbbed with neon and bass, but Saanvi Desai was the real storm. Furious with Kabir Chauhan, the Assistant Commissioner of Police who ruled her heart and her temper, she downed tequila like it was ammunition, swaying against strangers, her laughter sharp enough to cut. Every glance, every touch was aimed at one man-watching her from the shadows like a predator. Kabir's gaze never left her, his jaw tight and his control fraying. When a stranger's hand slid too low on her waist, he moved-cutting through the crowd, shoving the guy back with a growl, "Get your hands off her." "You don't own me, Kabir!" she snapped, heels wobbling as she fought his grip. The man puffed his chest. "Who the hell are you?" Kabir didn't look at him. He simply set his service pistol on the table. Clunk. The music stopped, the bar froze, and the stranger's bravado bled away. Saanvi's breath hitched under Kabir's dark, unblinking stare-a silent warning that the most dangerous thing in the room wasn't the gun. It was him. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Kabir Chauhan - Assistant Commissioner of Police Disciplined. Reserved. Calculated. A man who thrives on order, strategy, and the weight of responsibility. His life is a checklist of rules-and he never breaks them. Saanvi Desai - Surgeon Passionate. Fearless. Impulsive. A woman who trusts her instincts over logic, runs toward chaos instead of away, and believes some risks are worth taking. DISCLAIMER This book is strictly intended for readers aged 18 and above. It contains mature themes such as intimacy, violence, murder, and depictions of bloodshed. As the author, I feel it is important to state this clearly and firmly: while my story includes romance and intimacy, I do not and will never promote non-consensual sexual content. Every intimate scene in this book is based on mutual respect, trust, and consent. Love, in my eyes, should never come at the cost of someone's choice or dignity. Cover designed by: @balladofawordsmith ❤️