This chapter contains depictions of physical assault, sexual assault, and strong language.
Reader discretion is advised. If you're sensitive to such content, please consider skipping this chapter.
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Author's POV

Once again, the heavy iron door creaked open-revealing the place where mercy is forbidden and pain is law.

This wasn't just a room.

It was a living graveyard of screams, a chamber that breathed agony, soaked in the blood of those who thought they were untouchable.

The air was dense-thick with the stench of rusted iron, old blood, sweat, and fear.

A silence hung in the air... not of peace, but of anticipation. The kind of silence that made even monsters flinch.

This was Kaala Darbar's torture room-a place where justice wasn't spoken, it was carved.

Here, people didn't beg for forgiveness...

They begged for death.

Because death was kinder than what awaited them inside these four cursed walls.

The room itself looked like a mix of ancient cruelty and modern precision. On one side were weapons-ranging from rusted knives to surgical scalpels, whips soaked in salt, pliers made to crush bones, branding irons that sizzled when touched.

Every weapon had a history of a scream.

Every stain on the floor... was a confession ripped from flesh.

Chains hung from the ceiling, still carrying shadows of the men who once dangled from them, bones twisted unnaturally, mouths open mid-scream.

The walls had been repainted many times...
but no paint could ever hide the memories etched in blood.

Every corner whispered secrets.

Of men who once thought they were gods.

Of screams that were never heard outside,

Of bodies that were never found.

Here, truth was not extracted... it was torn out.

And as the door closed once again with a deep, echoing thud, the room didn't just trap the prisoner inside...

It welcomed another story,

Another scream,

Another soul...

To be broken, piece by piece,

Until even regret became a privilege they no longer deserved.

In the far, shadowed corner of the torture room, a couple sat slumped against the damp, stone wall-Saaisha's aunt and uncle.

They were not chained anymore.

Because now... they didn't need to be.

Their bodies had given up long before their minds could, their strength drained to the bone. Once plump and prideful, their faces were now hollow, sunken cheeks, pale skin, and heavy dark circles under their eyes that spoke louder than any confession.

They were still alive but just barely.

One meal a day.

That's all they were given not to nourish, but to prolong.

So they didn't die.

Because death was too easy.

No one laid a hand on them after the day they were brought in. No whips, no blades.

Their torment was not physical.

It was deeper. Crueler.

Their only visible scar was the single, deliberate cut across their lips...

Ryan's doing.

A warning carved with silence.

A reminder that some mouths should never have spoken.

After that day...

They never asked for anything again.

No water.

No food.

No mercy.

They sat-lifeless, wordless, curled into themselves like fallen beasts, drowning in the echo of what they had done.

A loud, guttural scream pierced through the heavy air of the torture chamber, bouncing off the bloodstained walls like a chilling alarm

A new soul had entered hell.

"Where am I?! Who are you?! LET ME OUT!"
A man's panicked voice thundered, laced with confusion and fear.

He couldn't see much just shadows, darkness, cold steel, and the overwhelming stench of pain.

In the far corner of the room, Saaisha's aunt and uncle flinched at the sound. Their sunken eyes slowly lifted, just enough to glance at the new prisoner.

But then, almost as if rehearsed, they looked away again.

Immediately.

Not out of curiosity.

Not out of guilt.

But out of pure, cold fear.

Because they knew this room had one sacred rule

Speak, and suffer.

They had learned that the hard way.

So now, silence was their only shield.

Suddenly, the heavy iron door creaked open again.

But this time... the air didn't shift from fear.

It froze.

Because this time, not one, but four shadows stepped inside.

Their movements quiet. Deliberate. Unforgiving.

Each of them dressed in black from head to toe.

Each of them wearing masks-the kind that revealed nothing but the eyes.

And even in those eyes, there was no warmth.

Only wrath.

The new prisoner's breath caught in his throat.

Something primal told him

These aren't just men.
They are the executioners.

He backed away, but there was nowhere to go.
No exit. No safety.

The four stopped a few feet away from him, silent and still.

The air thickened as if even it knew to hold its breath.

Saarkar
Hukum
Shaitaan
Saahiba

The Four Pillars of Kaala Darbar.

Standing like a dark omen, cloaked in vengeance.

Here not to question.

But to deliver justice in the language this room was built for-pain.

"Why...? Why am I here?! I don't even know you!"
he cried, the desperation leaking through every word.

Shaurya stepped forward slowly, like a storm on legs, calm and terrifying.

His voice was cold, flat, almost gentle

The calm before the storm.

"You'll get to know soon why you're here. Don't worry."

Then came Veer's voice, smoother than Shaurya's but ten times deadlier when laced with darkness.

"Tell me something. Do you think you've done anything wrong... that led you to this hell?"

The man swallowed, sweat already trailing down his forehead and neck.

Something flickered in his eyes-shame, maybe.
Or fear.

But he shook his head, stammering

"N-No... I-I swear..."

Shaurya moved forward slowly, his eyes fixed on the man trembling before him. Each step was deliberate, controlled like a predator circling its prey.

Without a word, he grabbed the man's wrist in a firm grip. But just before twisting, his eyes briefly lowered to the man's chest, where a small, dull silver locket hung loosely around his neck. The chain was cheap, but the locket had an old, faded photograph inside-an elderly man, wrinkled and smiling faintly.

Something flickered in Shaurya's eyes.

"The man in the photo didn't rape me. But the man wearing that locket did."

Her words sliced through his mind like a dagger. The stillness around him grew colder.

Shaurya then calmly asked, "Your name is Arnav Shukla, right?"

The man nodded quickly, fear tightening every muscle in his body.

Shaurya's eyes dropped to the locket hanging around his neck. He reached out, grabbed it with two fingers, and tugged it forward, forcing Arnav to meet his gaze.

He stared at the photo inside the locket, his voice quiet but cutting,

"The only son of Jaydeep Shukla?"

Arnav blinked in confusion, "Y-Yes... but how do you know about him-?"

Before he could finish, Shaurya's grip tightened around his wrist, his fingers digging deep into the flesh and without another word, he began to twist.

Slowly. Purposefully. Mercilessly.

The sharp, sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the room like a whip slashing through silence.

"AAAHHHHHHH!!"

The man's scream pierced the air, his body convulsing as his wrist bent at an unnatural angle.

But Shaurya didn't flinch.

All he could hear was her voice.

All he could see was that locket.

All he could feel was rage.

Shaurya's face remained blank. But inside, her words haunted him

"My wrists and ankles were tied. So tightly, I couldn't even move without bruising."

H

is grip tightened once more before letting go. The wrist hung limply, twisted, bone misaligned.

Shaurya tilted his head, voice cold as a glacier.
"Is it painful? Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

Ryan moved around the room casually, running his fingers over an assortment of blades, rods, and metal hooks that hung from the ceiling like trophies. His expression was thoughtful, almost artistic, as if deciding which tool would scream the loudest.

Without breaking stride, he signaled the men nearby. One of them came forward and shoved a rag deep into the screaming man's mouth, muffling his cries into strained grunts.

Veer stepped in next. He crouched in front of the man for a moment, watching his panic build, then without warning-punched him.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And again.
Each hit was brutal, aimed to break, not bruise. The sickening crunch of cartilage breaking joined the symphony of pain. Blood poured from his lips and down his chin, soaked into the gag.

Still, none of them flinched.

"When I tried to turn away, he gripped my jaw so hard, I felt the bone shift."

Her words were ringing in their heads.

Ryan now stood directly behind the man.

He took down a steel chain with wicked hooks dangling from it-meant not to kill, but to shred.

He pierced both hooks into the man's back-deep.

The flesh ripped.

The blood poured.

The man thrashed-until Ryan signaled his men.

The gag was removed.

And before the man could even inhale, they pulled the chain.

The man was hoisted midair, the steel hooks now embedded into his flesh, holding his full weight.

He screamed.

Feral.
Broken.
Inhuman.

The sound made Saaisha's uncle twitch in the corner. But he didn't lift his eyes.

No one ever did.

Ryan, emotionless, now barked

"Take his pants off."

The man's eyes widened, panicking.

He screamed again, muffled, but no one listened.

His legs were spread apart-forcibly.

Ryan brought a short iron pole-thick, sharp, and cruelly clean and placed it below.

When the man saw it, he screamed louder-

"NO! PLEASE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP-"

Ryan didn't flinch.

He didn't speak.

He simply signaled.

And the man was dropped.

The pole pierced straight into his asshole with brutal force.

Agonizing.
Ripping.
Breaking.

His body jerked.

His eyes rolled.

He screamed so violently that blood sprayed from his mouth.

Ryan shoved a cloth back in.

Leaning close, he whispered with cruel coldness-

"See? Victory.
The rod is the first to take you."

The man's eyes widened in horror. He knew exactly why he was here now.
He could hear his own cruel words echoing back at him...

"See? Victory. I was the first one to take you."

His head slumped.

Unconscious.

"Wake him up," Ryan ordered.

A bucket of ice-cold water was poured onto his twitching body.

He gasped awake shivering, groaning, barely alive.

"Please... just kill me. Please don't torture me like this..."

Shaurya walked closer, squatted in front of him.

"What's the rush?
We're just getting started.
Let's play a game, hmm?"

His eyes gleamed.

"I'll ask you a question. You'll answer in one second. If you hesitate..."

He glanced at the bloodstained pole.

"You already know what happens."

The man whimpered and nodded.

Shaurya:
"You know exactly why you're being punished, don't you?"

"Yes..." he replied weakly.

"Then tell me.
Why did you do it?
Who else was involved?"

The man panicked.
"I-I don't know-"

Ryan yanked his hair back.
"Only the truth."

Tears streamed down the man's face.

"I... I received an envelope at my doorstep. It had a photo of a girl... and money. There was a note... said I had to kidnap her. Location and time was written. Said I'd get more money if I followed it.

I... I needed the money.

So I did it.

I asked one of my friends for help.

She was alone that night... perfect timing.

We took her.

But my friend got scared halfway and left.

I took her to the address-it was an old abandoned factory.

I stayed there the whole night.

In the morning... I left. Left her there. Alone.

I swear I don't know who sent that envelope. Or who else was involved..."

Ryan's rage finally exploded.

He took a blade and sliced the man's cheek.

"Then WHY did you rape her?!"

"I... I don't know..." he sobbed, choking. "She was alone and I..."

He couldn't finish.

But Siya stormed forward, grabbed his hair and yanked his face up.

"You what, motherfucker?!"

Her voice cracked like thunder.

"You WHAT?! Complete the fucking sentence!"

"I-I lost control and did that," he whispered.

"What the fuck did you say, huh?"

Her voice was venom.

"You lost control? You saw a girl and your dick got hard so you thought you had the right to take her?!

Fucking impotent piece of shit.

Let me show you what happens to animals like you."

She didn't wait.

She took a blade and carved deep letters into his forehead.

R A P I S T.

Then she leaned in.

Face to face.

"You think that tiny fucking piece of meat between your legs gives you the right to break someone?

Let me do a favor to the world."

With one swift, brutal slice-

She castrated him.

Clean.

Cold.

Merciless.

The scream that followed wasn't just of pain, it was the sound of a monster being destroyed.

He collapsed, body twitching, blood everywhere.

Shaurya's voice echoed like fate.

"Make sure he doesn't die.

Not yet.

He needs to live...

Live long enough to remember what it feels like to beg for death."

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