The forest was not quiet that night. The wind carried whispers of drums and wedding bells, of silk dragging against the earth as Roohi ran. Her bridal jewelry clinked with every desperate step, her veil a torn banner of rebellion fluttering behind her. She didn't dare look back. If she did, she might hear her stepmother's voice, sharp as a knife, reminding her of duty, reminding her of chains. Her lungs burned. Her feet ached. But still she ran - because anything was better than a marriage forced upon her. Anything was better than belonging to someone she did not choose. And then... the shadows moved. He stepped out from the darkness like he had always been there, waiting. Tall, dangerous, eyes glinting under the pale moonlight - a man the world whispered about in fear. Ishaan. For one heartbeat, she froze. Had she escaped one danger only to fall into another? But his gaze held no threat. Only... devotion. Fierce. Unwavering. As though the sight of her, broken and breathless in bridal red, was something holy. He didn't speak. He only shrugged off his jacket, draping it around her trembling shoulders, and for the first time that night, Roohi's heart stopped running. Ishaan watched her. The world had always called him ruthless, bloodstained, untouchable. But as he saw her veil slip, her eyes wide with fear and defiance, something in him shifted. She wasn't just a runaway bride. She was a prayer he never knew he'd whispered. He told her nothing that night. Not of the storm she had awakened in him. Not of the vow that took root in his chest. But as she shivered under his jacket, Ishaan knew one truth with the kind of certainty men kill for- From this moment on, she was his to protect. His to worship. His.