51
RUDRAKSH
“Now, now… Are you already afraid?” I stare at him down, my voice calm and cold. “I’ve just started.” A menacing laugh escapes me.
He spits on my shoes. “You could do better than that.”
Rage consumes me, and I punch him hard. His head jerks to the side, blood splattering out from his nose, and he winces.
After Shivani told me about this man, I had to find him. He had the fucking audacity to come near her—when I was just two minutes away. That thought alone makes my blood simmer. He’s a danger to her. And anyone who’s a danger to her… becomes my business.
So I asked Mr. Kapoor to send me the entire CCTV footage from that party. He wouldn’t dare say no.
When I saw the way this bastard was touching her—like she was his to claim—something inside me snapped. No one touches my wife. No one gets to violate her and walk away. No-freaking-one.
Turns out, he’s one of Ranveer’s men. If he’s still in contact with him, I’ll find out. And even if he isn’t… I’ll still enjoy tearing him apart. He deserves every second of it.
“I’m not telling you anything!” He yells through his groans as he glares at me.
"So loyal. For whom?" A smirk forms on my face at his words, “That motherfucker?” I glare at him. “The same man who hasn’t even bothered to look for you?”
He struggles against the chains binding his hands and legs. Pathetic.
“Leave me!”
I circle him slowly, letting the silence build—thick and with rage. “I think it’s time I raised the bar.”
I walk to the table and pick up a knife—just one of many tools lined up for tonight’s entertainment. This one is one of a kind, especially designed to inflict much more pain than the simpler ones.
“Let’s play a game, okay?” I announce, my voice booming in the dark room, as I step a few feet away from him. “I’ll ask you a question. If you answer it right, you live. If you don’t—” I grin, “I throw the knife. It’s fun. For me, at least.”
“You won’t do anything!” He screams, glaring at me, as if I will stop. What a misunderstanding!
He still doesn’t get it. I sigh, close my eyes, and aim. The blade whistles through the air and lands deep in his arm. His scream rips through the room, guttural.
I open my eyes slowly, evil glinting in my eyes. “Damn. I aimed for your hand.” I tilt my head. “But your arm works. I’ll take it.”
He’s breathing heavily now, eyes wide with terror, sweat dripping down his face. Gone is the smug bastard who thought he could touch my Shivani. Now, he’s just a terrified little rat.
“Okay, let’s begin!” I say, clapping once like a showman.
“I’m not in the mood to play, Nitin. So tell me—where is Ranveer?”
His chest rises and falls rapidly, but he stays silent. I narrow my eyes at him as I slowly lean against the bar.
“Ranveer,” I repeat, voice low and steady. “Where is he?”
“Go to hell,” he spits, trying to sound tough. But I hear the fear trembling in his voice.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Wrong answer.”
I step forward and rip the knife from his arm in one swift motion. He screams again, louder this time. The sound echoes off the concrete walls. Music.
“Let’s try again,” I murmur, tossing the bloodied knife aside. I pick up the pliers from the table, turning them in my hands.
“Fingers are sensitive, you know,” I muse. “Lots of nerves. Lots of pain.”
He’s starting to crack now. I can see it. The panic in his eyes is a dead giveaway.
“Please,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I don’t know where he is… He went underground after a party. He told me to kidnap Shivani, but you showed up, so I ran. I swear, I don’t know where he is. No one’s seen him since.”
I tighten my grip on the pliers, heart pounding. Thank God I found Shivani on time.
I nod slowly, running the tool over my fingers like I’m testing it. “And who’s he been in contact with? Who would know where he’s hiding?”
“I don’t know exactly,” he stammers, fear shining in his eyes. “But he has a network. People he trusts. He’s… he’s been in contact with Varun.”
“Varun,” I repeat, filing the name away. “Where can I find him?”
“He works for Atharva. The mafia boss,” he answers quickly, like he’s hoping the answer will save him.
I smile. “Ah. I can work with that.”
I drop the pliers back on the table, the clink echoing in the silence. Slowly, I lean in close to him, my voice low. “You’ve been very helpful. So I’m going to give you an easy death.”
I wipe my hands with a cloth, calm now, the rage simmering beneath the surface. He starts begging, words tumbling from his mouth like a prayer. But it just sounds like a dying rat.
“You see,” I say, turning back to him with a fresh knife in my hand, “you touched my wife. If you thought for a second I’d let you go…” I tut softly, shaking my head. He starts crying, the terror in his eyes deliciously raw. The sight makes me happy.
“You made a mistake, Nitin. A very grave mistake.” He weeps, snot mixing with blood on his face. Ugly. Gross.
“No, please! I told you everything! Please!”
I lean in, voice barely above a whisper. “You hurt Shivani. For that… you’ll suffer.”
I straighten up, and my voice grows cold. “Ten days, Nitin. That’s how long you’ll live. And every second will be agony.” That's how old she was.
His eyes go wide as the words sink in. I grab his hair and yank his head back so hard that he winces as he looks right at me. “You were brave enough to touch her,” I hiss, “but now? You’re just a fucking coward begging for mercy.”
Without hesitation, I slice downward, aiming for his dick. The knife moves with precision, and his scream is louder than anything he’s let out so far.
He jerks and flails, blood spraying everywhere.
I order my men, calm as ever, “Stuff it in his mouth.”
They do as told—no hesitation. His muffled screams are pure chaos, wet and broken, as they sew his lips shut, needle piercing flesh with every stitch.
His body convulses, but it’s no use. The damage is done. “You will suffer, just like she suffered,” I whisper as they finish the last stitch.
His eyes—wild, bloodshot, teary—meet mine one final time. Blood all over his face and body.
“Take him away,” I order the guards at the door. “Keep him alive for ten days. No more, no less. Let him feel everything.”
They drag him out, his muffled screams fading into the distance. I wipe my hands again, calmer now. Steady.
Now that's called justice. I pull out my phone and dial.
“Atharva,” I say into the phone. “Ask your capo, Varun, about Ranveer Singh Rathore. I need that piece of shit.”