CHAPTER 17 #3
Parag suddenly studies my face more closely. “And why do you look so flustered?” he asks slowly. “Is it because I showed up here without informing you?”
I immediately clench my jaw. If only he knew that the reason behind my flushed face has nothing to do with him or his ridiculous surprise visit.
It has everything to do with a man who knows exactly how to kiss a woman until she forgets her own name.
A man whose rough touch and possessive grip have completely ruined my ability to think straight tonight.
Parag keeps staring at me. “When I came here an hour ago and went to your cottage looking for you…” His eyes narrow slightly. “I was surprised not to find you there.”
He reaches for my arm again, but this time I catch his wrist midway and shove his hand away before he can touch me. He doesn’t like that. I can see it in the way his teeth grind behind his smile.
“I thought I would surprise you,” he says slowly. “But you surprised me instead.” His gaze sharpens. “Escaping your guards inside RK Estate, huh?”
I roll my eyes, refusing to answer that. Right now, my patience for Parag Reddy is hanging by a thread.
But then, he suddenly grins. Wide enough for me to actually see his gums. Something about that smile makes my stomach tighten uncomfortably.
“But…” he says, sounding almost excited, “I still have another surprise for you.”
My heartbeat quickens. Another surprise? Before I can even prepare myself, he drops the words casually.
“Our wedding isn’t happening next month anymore.” His grin widens further. “It’s next week.”
The world around me goes silent. Next week?
“No.” The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
Parag barely reacts to my shock.
“There’s been a change in plans,” he says coolly, as though he’s discussing a business meeting instead of my entire life. “Samarjeet isn’t handling this anymore. I am. The preparations are already underway.”
My entire chest tightens painfully. The marriage is happening next week?
How is that even possible? It’s suffocating and I hate this feeling.
I don’t want to be trapped inside that world permanently.
But instead of reacting emotionally, I simply glare at Parag once before walking into my cottage.
Because if I stay out here one second longer, I might totally lose it.
RAGHAV
Day 10 @ RK Estate (Next Morning)
The helicopter blades thunder above RK Estate before gradually slowing as we land on the private helipad. Dust swirls violently across the ground as I step out first.
The moment my boots hit the earth, I feel it. It’s too quiet. Every instinct in me screams that something is wrong.
I keep walking, despite the exhaustion settling into my bones.
My knuckles are ripped open, layers of skin split apart from repeatedly smashing into flesh and bone all night.
Dried blood coats my fingers and my palms, while dark stains of blood mark the sleeves of my shirt. But none of that blood belongs to me.
It belongs to the men I killed last night.
Haider walks behind me, speaking sharply into the phone while coordinating the remaining cleanup with our men near the border. The operation is over. The trucks never crossed the border, and the network was dismantled before sunrise.
The entire operation should have wiped every other thought from my head. But not this time. Even now, my mind is somewhere else. Back to Siya, whose taste still hasn’t left my mouth. Somehow, through all of last night’s bloodshed, the lily garland never left my side.
Last night, after leaving the temple backyard, I went straight to the helicopter without even removing it from around my neck.
Somewhere during the flight, I had finally pulled it off and wrapped it around my fist instead.
And even now, stepping out of the helicopter at RK Estate late in the morning, I’m still carrying the crushed lilies in my hand.
The petals have dried, the faint traces of their fragrance still clinging to them.
But the scent doesn’t remind me of lilies anymore.
Now, it reminds me of Siya.
My grip instinctively tightens around the garland as dried blood on my knuckles pulls my thoughts back to last night.
By the time our helicopter reached the ridge of the Nepal border, my men were already waiting there with vehicles ready. By then, the weapons convoy had begun to move.
There were five container trucks with armed escorts, each having military-grade ammunition hidden beneath medical cargo.
Once those trucks crossed the border, the shipment was supposed to disappear into black-market networks of Southeast Asia.
The Reddys had planned that route, knowing exactly how to disguise the movement across the border.
But they underestimated one thing. Me.
Before the trucks could reach the tunnel route near the border crossing, Haider blocked the rear exit with our men while I intercepted the front line myself. Masked. Under no circumstances could anyone in the underworld know the Dark Prince was alive and working alongside GLEN.
I still remember the first idiot who reached for his gun, but never got the chance to aim properly. I dragged him straight through the truck window before my knife slit opened his throat.
Another b*stard tried putting a rifle against my back near the loading ramp.
I caught his wrist before he could pull the trigger and twisted it until I heard the bone crack under my grip.
His scream barely left his mouth before I slammed him shoulder-first into the metal container behind us.
The impact had dislocated it instantly. And when he still tried reaching for the gun with his other hand, I grabbed his throat and smashed him against the sharp edge of the truck hard enough to silence him permanently.
My fingers flex at the memory.
At one point during the fight, a rifle slid across the ground near my boots.
Instinct almost made me pick it up. Almost. But the second my hand moved towards it, I was reminded of my father.
The exact moment, thirty months ago, when I pulled the trigger and put a bullet through Tej Khurana’s head, and ended his life with my own hands.
The last bullet I ever fired. The last gun I ever touched.
My chest hardens at the memory even now. So last night, I fought bare-handed instead. Knife. Fists. Blood.
By the time GLEN’s Shadow Response Unit finally arrived, ninety percent of the operation was already over. Trucks seized. Routes exposed. Men detained. The entire trafficking chain had collapsed before sunrise.