Obsession wears his name, Vengeance wears his Crown
Anbu is not the kind of man who asks for power-he takes it. A mafia boss feared across Tamil Nadu, he's the kind of legend whispered in fear, the kind of man who ends you before you plead. At 34, he's not rich, not royal-but his wrath is worth empires. Raised in a village that hated him, abused and cast aside, he crawled out of hell alone and built his kingdom with nothing but a gun and scars. He doesn't forgive. He doesn't flinch. And love? It has no place in a world that never gave him any.
Raatri Malhotra is the storm behind silence. At just 26, she wears her ADGP badge like a dagger tucked in silk-elegant, lethal, unshaken. Born into privilege, trained in precision, and haunted by the things she can't speak of, she doesn't chase justice. She hunts it. She's not just the law-she's the executioner hiding behind soft smiles and civil words. She plays the long game, and when the time comes, she never misses.
"She wasn't born of the sun. She was carved from the night-velvet, vicious, and untouchable."
He was everything she vowed to destroy.
She was everything he never thought he could love.
In a world where power corrupts and love consumes, some stories aren't written in ink.
They're written in blood.
Their love was not a fairytale-it was a massacre in slow motion.
It wasn't built on trust. It was carved through betrayal, laced with blood and bound by need.
He loved her like a curse-possessive, raw, unrelenting.
She loved him like a loaded gun-cold, dangerous, and pointed straight at the world.
Together, they didn't fix each other. They didn't change each other.
They bled, broke, and burned-until the pain didn't taste like poison anymore.
He became her war, and she became his only peace.
And in a world where betrayal came easier than breath,
they were violently, painfully loyal-until the very end.
She would lie for him.
He would kill for her.
Because when monsters love, they don't hold hands.
They hold hearts in clenched fists-and protect them like territory.
