Chapter 37
The Devil’s Judgment
The night was silent.
Too silent.
But the air was heavy.
Heavy with tension.
Heavy with death.
Heavy with Hukum’s wrath.
---
?? When the Devil Hunts, There’s No Escape
Agastya stood in the center of an abandoned warehouse, his sharp gaze fixed on the five men kneeling before him.
Bloodied. Bruised. Defeated.
They had tried to run.
Tried to hide.
But you don’t escape the Devil.
Not when you’ve spilled his men’s blood.
Not when you’ve challenged his reign.
"Do you know why you’re still breathing?"
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
A false sense of mercy—before the storm.
The leader, Karan Rawat, spat blood onto the floor.
"Because you’re a coward."
Veer took a step forward, ready to strike.
But Agastya raised a hand.
His lips curled.
"A coward?"
He crouched down, leveling his dark gaze with the man’s swollen one.
"You sent your men to their deaths. And you call me the coward?"
Rawat glared. "You think you’re a God. But you're just a man hiding behind power."
Agastya chuckled.
"A God? No."
His fingers wrapped around the man’s throat.
"But a devil?"
He tightened his grip.
"That’s something I’ve never denied."
The man gasped.
Choked.
Struggled.
But Agastya didn’t blink.
Didn’t waver.
Because this was justice.
And in his world—mercy was a weakness.
---
?? A Queen Who Refuses to Stay Caged
Back at the mansion, Anvi paced in her room.
The walls felt too small.
The silence felt too loud.
And the fear—too overwhelming.
She needed to see him.
To stop him.
To understand the man she was bound to.
Her fingers curled into fists.
No.
She refused to be another person Agastya locked away.
If he was truly her Hukum… then she had a right to see the truth.
Determination hardened in her chest.
She grabbed a shawl, pulled it over herself, and slipped out into the night.
Straight into the world of the Devil.
---
?? A King and Queen Destined for Darkness
Anvi arrived at the warehouse just in time to see it.
Just in time to see him.
Agastya stood tall, his white kurta now stained with blood.
His men stood behind him, silent.
And at his feet?
The bodies of those who dared to betray him.
Her breath hitched.
This wasn’t the man who kissed her.
The man who called her jaan.
This was the king.
The ruler.
The monster.
And yet—she didn’t run.
Because deep down… she already knew.
This was Agastya Singh Rathore.
The man she could never escape.
And the man she would never stop loving.
---
A Love Drenched in Blood
The night was thick with silence.
But the air between them?
It was roaring.
Agastya stood tall, his bloodstained hands curling into fists as his sharp gaze landed on her.
Anvi.
His Pari.
The one person who was never supposed to see this side of him.
But she did.
And now, there was no turning back.
---
?? The Devil’s Fury, The Lover’s Fear
Anvi’s breath was shaky.
Not from fear.
But from the weight of the truth.
She had always known Agastya was dangerous.
But seeing it?
Seeing him drenched in blood, his men standing behind him like shadows, his victims lying lifeless at his feet…
It made everything real.
Too real.
She took a step back.
Agastya took a step forward.
Her heartbeat pounded.
And then—
"What are you doing here, Pari?"
His voice was low. Controlled. Deadly.
And yet—there was something else beneath it.
Something raw.
Something shaken.
Because even he knew—this was the one place she was never meant to be.
---
?? A Queen Who Refuses to Be Blinded
Anvi swallowed.
Her voice trembled, but she spoke.
"I wanted to see the truth."
Agastya’s jaw tightened.
"And now you have."
She exhaled shakily. "Is this who you really are?"
He laughed. Cold. Empty.
"You already knew the answer to that, jaan."
Her hands curled into fists.
"I wanted to believe you were more than this."
His eyes darkened.
"And yet, you still stand here."
She didn’t move.
Didn’t run.
Because deep down—she wasn’t afraid of him.
She was afraid of the truth she couldn’t ignore anymore.
She was falling for a man who would never be good.
Never be soft.
Never be safe.
And yet—he was hers.
And she was his.
---
?? The Devil’s Possession
Agastya exhaled, his patience hanging by a thread.
He stepped closer, until she could see the streaks of blood across his shirt.
Until she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
His hand grasped her chin, tilting her face up to meet his.
"Listen to me carefully, Pari."
His voice was gravel and silk.
"You don’t get to run."
Her pulse raced.
"You don’t get to be afraid of me."
Her breath hitched.
"Because no matter how much blood stains these hands—" his fingers traced her jaw, "they are the same hands that will always hold you."
A shiver ran down her spine.
Because he meant it.
Every. Word.
He could destroy kingdoms.
Slaughter enemies.
Rule the world with fire.
But with her?
He would never let go.
Ever.