Chapter 8
PRASHANT
The sun was a brutal hammer, striking down. Sand, gritty and hot, clung to my sweat-drenched uniform.
Bravo Team. They were pushing through another round of combat conditioning: low crawls, wall climbs, sprints. Full gear. Their breath was ragged, skin blistering. I watched them, every muscle in my body coiled tight, feeling every one of their struggles as if it were my own.
I stood like a statue near the final checkpoint, my arms crossed over my chest, sweat bled down my temples, stinging my eyes, but I didn't flinch. My gaze was fixed, hard as iron.
"Move! You're not here to survive training.
You're here to survive a bullet between your ribs.
Faster!" My voice was a roar, cutting through the heavy air.
Pushing them. Pushing myself. They needed to understand.
This wasn't a game. This wasn't about looking good.
This was about living and protecting our country. Our honor.
Then, it happened. Sepoy Rishi. A young recruit. He stumbled off the last low crawl. His knees buckled, and he collapsed face-first into the sand, kicking up a small cloud of dust. He didn't get up. My jaw locked. Tight.
A few nearby soldiers slowed, exchanging glances. Their hesitation was a dangerous crack in the discipline I was forging. I couldn't allow it. Not here. Not ever.
My boots crunched across the field, the sand a fire under my soles, but I barely registered it. I stormed toward him.
"On your feet, Sepoy." My voice was a low command. A warning.
Rishi groaned a pitiful sound. His body trembled as he tried. "Sir... I can't..."
I can't. That single sentence was a trigger like a match dropped into gasoline, igniting something deep inside me. At that moment, it wasn't about Rishi anymore; it was about everything.
I grabbed his vest, rough fabric scraping my palm and hauled him halfway upright, his body lighter than it should've been, too weak. My voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl, barely a whisper, but sharp enough to pierce him to the core.
"You can't? What happens when five men drag you into a dark room, tie your hands behind your back, and crush your knees until you forget your name?"
A sudden, heavy silence fell over the training ground. Every eye on me. Every breath held. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ira. She was near the logistics tent. She had turned sharply, her gaze fixed on me. I knew she was listening and judging. But I didn't give a toss.
I didn't stop. The words poured out now, fueled by a deep-seated rage. A chilling memory.
"You think fatigue will kill you? It won't. Cowardice will. Get up!"
Rishi tried, pushing himself against the sand, muscles straining. But his strength gave out, and he collapsed again. My vision blurred. Not from the searing heat. A different kind of heat. A cold wave of memory washed over me.
FLASHBACK:
Darkness. A concrete cell in Kashmir. The smell of damp earth and stale blood. My hands were bound behind me with rusty wire, digging into my wrists and pain throbbed through my entire body. I could taste my own blood as it coated my mouth, thick and metallic.
There were five men. Their faces were covered.
Their eyes were laughing, mocking, breaking me piece by piece.
They kicked my ribs until I couldn't breathe.
They held my face down in the cold, wet mud, forcing me to choke.
They were saying vile and disgusting things about my mother, about my country, our honor, and about how heroes scream like dogs when they were truly broken.
I hadn't passed out. I hadn't begged them, but something inside me had broken quietly that day. A part of my soul that never stitched back together. It was a raw, jagged edge I carried. A constant reminder of what 'can't' truly meant.
"Run!" I barked at Rishi, the word tearing through the haze of the memory. My voice cracked as I tried to control the searing anger burning inside me, choking me to death. When the past came to the forefront, I couldn't hold it back, I couldn't stop it from taking over my head. I just lost my mind.
"Ten laps around the compound. Now! No water." The words came out sharp and unyielding.
"Sir..." A Havildar began cautiously, taking a hesitant step forward, trying to intercede.
My eyes blazed. "Not. A. Word." My gaze swept over them all. Daring anyone to challenge me. "If you can crawl, you can run. If you can breathe, you can fight. Now GO!"
Rishi pushed himself to his feet on shaking legs, face streaked with tears and sweat. He started to run. He stumbled like a man learning to walk for the first time. Each step was agony, but he kept moving.
Ira stepped forward, her voice cutting through the air. It was sharp and clear. "Captain, he'll collapse."
I turned to her, my expression unreadable. A mask forged from years of training.
"Then let him collapse. At least he'll learn where his limit is." I knew it sounded harsh and cruel, but this was the only way. The only way they would learn, they would learn not to fail.
"That's not training," she said coldly, her eyes meeting mine, full of defiance. "That's punishment."
I stared at her. Her words hit a nerve as my jaw clenched.
"This isn't Dehradun, Solanki." My voice was low and laced with the grim reality of our world. "This is the desert. The line between soldier and corpse is discipline." I needed her to understand the stakes, not some theory of life and death.
She held my gaze, breathing hard. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly.
"And what about the line between discipline and madness?" Her question hung in the air. It was a challenge and an accusation.
I just stayed silent. There was no answer I could give her that she would accept. There was no explanation for the darkness I carried. The fire that fueled my methods.
Behind us, Rishi kept running. His legs buckling with every painful stride. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, but he was still moving. He was more afraid of the man behind him than whatever waited in the sand ahead. And for now, that was enough. At least he was learning not to give up.
After training, I entered the office where Ira was working. It was empty, silent, except for her.
She looked up. The moment she saw me, the expression on her face twisted something in my chest. The same look. The one she had when I left that boy half-dead in the sand.
"What if something happens to him?" she spat, the moment I stepped inside. She didn't care that I outranked her. She didn't give a damn about the trouble she could get into for speaking to me like that. She just hurled her accusation like I was some kind of criminal.
"If I hadn't ordered him to finish his task, then something probably would have happened to him," I shot back, my voice cutting. "Warrior," I added, mocking her title.
Her eyes narrowed. "If you fail to defeat your enemies, not everyone will..." she snapped, laced with sarcasm.
That. That was where she went wrong. That was where I wanted to snap her beautiful neck.
A hot burn coiled through my veins. My pulse thundered. I shot out my hand and grasped her forearm, yanking her closer until she could feel my coal-burning eyes on her skin. My jaw clenched. I stared straight into her eyes. My voice was a low growl.
"Don't talk about things you'll never understand, Solanki. Judging someone is easy, isn't it? But you only start to understand once you've walked in their shoes. You'll never know what it feels like to be stabbed several times in the same spot... until it's you getting stabbed."
My breath hissed out as I shoved her into the chair. She winced, her eyes wide, pale, and shocked. She stared at me like I was a stranger, aggressive, heartless, and a cold bastard.
That's what she must've been thinking. Because I had never been like this before. But there was a lot about me she hadn't seen yet, and I was not intending to show her. I had lost all feelings for her except one: hatred.
"Prashant..." she began, her voice trembling.
I raised a hand, silencing her. I didn't want to hear another word from her mouth.
Not when everything she ever said came laced with poison.
She had never truly seen me, never once tried to understand me.
Because to her, I was just the poor boy, the driver's son, and she was the princess of a corporate empire.
Once. I had loved her. Madly. Completely. But I was a fool. I was a fucking fool for falling for a woman like her who never thought about anyone else but herself.
I never realized she was just using me. To feed her dark fantasies. She didn't care about my love. She only craved my body. I despised her for it.
While she leaned on Aryan for emotional comfort, she used me to satisfy her desires. Two men. One heartless woman.
My jaw locked. I stormed out of the room, marched straight to my office, and slammed the door shut. My hands gripped the desk as I exhaled hard. Rage pulsed through me. Ira's words kept replaying in my head like a fucking movie.
She thought I was weak? A failure?
She never once asked what I had been through. She never truly cared about me. I never thought she could be this heartless.
But now I know. Now... I see her for who she really is.
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