CHAPTER 56! LET IT BURN #2
Aryav waited. "What man?"
"Standing across the street right after the truck hit her. He was dressed in black. His face was covered." She swallowed, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He had a camera... he was taking pictures of me. Covered in her blood."
Aryav went dead motionless.
His hand around her waist tightened, his fingers pressing firm against her ribcage.
His jaw set into a hard, rigid line as his eyes shifted toward the locked boardroom doors.
Aadhira recognized that subtle shift. The ambient air seemed to drop several degrees.
Someone was watching her.
The realization settled in her chest, heavy and terrifying.
Aryav said nothing for several long seconds, letting the revelation take root, his dark eyes locked onto the distant wall as he calculated every variable.
"He had an earpiece," she sobbed softly. "He was just standing there... like he was waiting for it to happen."
Aryav nodded once, his focus returning entirely to her face.
Aadhira moved to get up off the floor, suddenly hyper-aware that she was sitting across his knee, clinging to him tightly.
In that single movement, a quiet realization struck her: no matter how angry she was with him, no matter how hard she tried to run away, when the world shattered, he was the only person she wanted.
Aryav stood up smoothly, bringing her up with him, keeping one broad arm heavy around her waist to support her weight.
Only then did Aadhira's eyes drift past his shoulder.
Forty syndicate bosses were watching them in rigid, unbroken silence. A flush of heat hit her face.
Before Aadhira could speak, Aryav looked out over the room.
"Get out."
Chairs scraped back in frantic unison. Within seconds, the room was completely cleared, the heavy obsidian doors slamming shut behind the last man.
Aryav turned his full attention back down to her.
"You're coming with me."
"Aryav, no-I have to go back to the hospital, I need to know if-"
"You haven't eaten."
"I am not hungry, Aryav-"
"That was not a request, Aadhira," he said softly, leaning down until his eyes were level with hers.
"You are coming."
Before she could object, he slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her into his arms.
Aadhira gasped, her hands instinctively wrapping tight around his neck.
He carried her out of the boardroom and down his private corridor.
Neither of them spoke.
Aadhira looked down the empty marble hallway. The bustling headquarters had gone completely dead silent.
It struck her then-he had just dismissed forty of the most dangerous men in the region, halting millions in operations, simply because she couldn't stand on her feet.
She looked up at his sharp jawline. He offered no explanation, his stride steady as he carried her through the tall double doors of his private suite.
Staff silently brought warm water, clean linens, and a soft velvet robe before vanishing without a word.
Aryav set her down on the edge of the bed and sat beside her. He took her injured hand in his broad palm and dipped a soft linen cloth into the warm water.
"Stay still," he murmured.
He cleaned her skin with quiet patience, wiping away the blood from her wrist and soothing the sting on her split knuckles.
Aadhira sat in silence, watching his hands. Broad, steady, and calloused-hands she had deliberately spent months trying not to notice.
Tonight, they moved over her bruised skin with a softness that made her chest tighten.
Aryav felt her gaze on him. He didn't look up, continuing to thread the damp cloth gently over her fingers.
Aadhira pulled her eyes away, looking down at the bedsheets.
He finished cleaning her hands, then gently wiped away the dry tear tracks on her cheeks.
Aryav looked at her for a long moment, his thumb lingering along her jawline.
"You look at me like you want to kill me," he murmured softly, "and then hold me like I am the oxygen you breathe."
Aadhira swallowed hard. "I can't stop doing both."
"Never stop doing both," he said quietly.
Her breath hitched, a faint tremor settling in her stomach.
When he offered her a small tray of food afterward, she simply turned her head away, leaning into his neck.
He didn't force her. He picked up his coat, wrapped her carefully in the heavy wool, and walked her straight out to his SUV.
The air in the hospital waiting wing was thick with the scent of antiseptic and cheap floor wax.
Time seemed to flatten out into an endless stretch.
The red light above the ICU double doors stayed illuminated, bright and steady.
A trauma nurse walked quickly past the seating area, her rubber soles squeaking against the polished linoleum, carrying a tray of sterile fluids.
Minutes bled into an hour. Then another.
Aadhira sat motionless on a plastic chair, her knees pulled to her chest, her chin resting on her legs.
A paper cup of water sat on the floor beside her shoes, untouched.
Shaurya walked back down the hallway carrying two paper bags. He set one beside Aadhira and carried the other over to where Vivaan sat in the corner.
Shaurya dropped heavily into the chair beside his best friend.
Vivaan hadn't moved. He sat hunched forward, his hands laced together, staring blankly at the floor.
Shaurya unwrapped half a sandwich and held it out. "Eat."
Vivaan didn't look up. "I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten since the accident."
"I said I can't, Shaurya."
Shaurya lowered his hand.
Then quietly: "She's still fighting."
Vivaan finally turned his head to look at him.