drealines
Where the law rots, monsters are hunted by worse ones.
Arjun Reddy is no hero. He doesn't save; he erases. He drags men through their own filth, crushes their throats on concrete, and forces them to choke on their sins. He doesn't believe in mercy, only in the balance bought with blood. Ruthless, godless, and hardwired for control, he builds order from chaos with bruised knuckles and a loaded gun.
In his world, the truth is currency already spent. The law is a puppet, and justice speaks only in violence-and he's fluent.
Then comes Rhea Sengupta. To the blind, she's gentle. To those who look closer-she's the wound that never closed. Every scar is memory, every breath defiance. She was carved in captivity, whittled by fear, and refined by rage. Softness is her camouflage.
She doesn't shatter. She ignites. And when she does, she takes everything with her.
Their meeting isn't romance--it's aftermath: bone against pavement, silence against scream. Two predators circling the same ruin, bound together by what they destroyed. This is not a love story. It's survival through violence, a reckoning written in blood and ash and the echo of everything that couldn't be saved.