hashi_writes_
Blood will bind them.
Hate will tear them apart.
Love will heal them.
Obsession will make them.
Blood doesn't always scream.
Sometimes, it whispers - quiet, calculated, and clean.
The rain that night had washed the city,
but not its sins.
The Chief Minister's residence stood drenched in crimson,
police sirens slicing through the silence like blades.
And somewhere inside, on a cracked marble floor,
truth lay gasping for breath.
"Run," a voice had whispered.
And she did.
White dress torn.
Blood tracing every step.
Running through the dark -
each footfall heavy with fear, soaked in guilt and something deeper... truth.
Across the city, in a dimly lit office,
a man watched the footage in silence.
Veer Singh Ranawat. IPS.
Calm. Composed. Dangerous.
He had seen hundreds of crimes -
but this one felt personal.
He rewound the footage again. And again.
Until he caught it -
that half-second when her eyes met the camera.
Not with guilt.
Not with defiance.
But with something he couldn't name - a trembling kind of unknowing .
He leaned back, voice low, almost reverent.
"Who are you, Dove?"
Outside, thunder cracked.
Inside, destinies shifted.
Because this wasn't just a case anymore.
It was war - between truth and power, justice and loyalty, love and obsession.
And in the end, someone would have to burn in it.