This chapter contains depictions of physical assault, sexual assault, and strong language.
Reader discretion is advised.
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Author's POV

Veer, Siya, and Ryan were already waiting inside Kaala Darbar when the heavy door creaked open.

Shaurya stepped in, his aura commanding the entire room as always. But this time, before anyone could utter a word..

A small, bright face peeked from behind his broad frame.

Saaisha.

With an innocent smile, she lifted her hand and waved lightly, “Hi.”

For a moment, the room froze. Veer, Siya, and Ryan exchanged stunned glances, then immediately turned to Shaurya, silently demanding confirmation.

Had he really brought her here?

Siya, recovering first, broke the silence. “Hello, Ishu… you here?” she asked, her tone soft but edged with disbelief.

Saaisha nodded cheerfully, almost childlike.

But Veer and Ryan didn’t move; their eyes stayed locked on Shaurya.

Shaurya gave them a single, deliberate nod. Nothing more.

Veer exhaled slowly, his chest rising as he forced himself to accept it. If Shaurya decided this, he must have thought it through. But Ryan...

Ryan’s jaw tightened. His sharp eyes cut between Saaisha and Shaurya.

“Why is she here, Shaurya?” His voice carried both accusation and disbelief.

Shaurya’s expression didn’t waver. His tone was low, firm.
“Because she wanted to see what happens to the one who’s behind her screams, her pain, her blood.”

Ryan wasn’t convinced. He stepped forward, his voice laced with irritation.

“What do you mean she wanted? Is this Jurassic Park? She wanted an adventure, so you brought her here to watch?”

Shaurya opened his mouth to reply, but before he could..

Saaisha’s eyes snapped to Ryan, her voice sharp, cutting through the heavy air.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for. And for your information, I’m not here for an adventure. I’m here to take my revenge… from the one who made me bleed.”

Ryan’s glare intensified, his voice low and dangerous.

“Do you even understand what you’re saying? Do you know what we do here? The screams, the blood, the flesh tearing apart piece by piece, can you really stand and watch that without breaking?”

Saaisha didn’t flinch. Her voice trembled slightly, but her resolve burned through it.

“No, I won’t break. Not when the one suffering is the same person who carved scars into my body. Not when it’s him.”

Ryan stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. His tone was cold.

“And what if you do get scared?”

But Saaisha didn’t back down. Instead, she moved closer too, tilting her chin up, fire blazing in her eyes.

“And what if I don’t?”

Their eyes locked, unyielding. The tension between them was sharp enough to cut the air, neither willing to step back.

“Enough.”

Shaurya’s voice sliced through the silence like a blade. The weight in his tone made everyone straighten instinctively. Even Veer and Siya stiffened.

“Let’s go,” Shaurya ordered, his voice stern, final. “We don’t have much time.”

The room began to move again, but Saaisha didn’t shift her gaze. Still glaring at Ryan, she leaned in just enough for only him to hear. Her voice was low, laced with challenge.

“If I don’t get scared, you’ll have to fulfill one demand of mine. Whatever I say.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into the faintest trace of a dark smirk.

“Fine. But if you do get scared… then you’ll fulfill my demand.”

The deal was sealed in silence,

Ryan muttered under his breath, irritation spilling through his tone,

“What the hell is wrong with everyone today? Why is everyone hell-bent on challenging me? Aaj ka din hi kharab hai…”

They all stepped into the lift together, the heavy metallic doors sliding shut behind them with a sharp clang that echoed like a warning. The air itself seemed to thicken as the cage began to descend.

The torture room lay deep beneath the ground—buried where the world above could never hear it.

Down there, no matter how much the prisoners screamed, no sound escaped. Their cries were swallowed by thick concrete walls, their pain buried in silence.

The very air grew hotter the lower they went, as if the earth itself conspired to turn the chamber into a furnace where sweat clung to the skin, burning and suffocating.

The deeper they went, the darker it became. The dim light flickered once, then went out completely, plunging them into pitch-black silence. The only sound was the faint vibration of chains below, and the distant mechanical groan of the lift dragging them down.

And then it happened.

Saaisha, standing right beside Shaurya, instinctively shut her eyes against the darkness. Almost without realizing, her hand reached out and wrapped firmly around his.

Her fingers tightened, clutching him as though he were her only anchor in this suffocating void.

Shaurya froze.

For a moment, he forgot to breathe. His heart skipped one beat, then another, before suddenly pounding against his ribs with such force that he thought everyone in the lift could hear it.

The warmth of her palm against his sent a shiver down his spine, raising goosebumps along his arms.

He had faced death countless times. He had ordered tortures, carried out punishments, watched men beg for mercy at his feet without blinking once. Yet here he stood, undone by the simple, trembling grip of one fragile girl.

His Lotus.

He turned his head slightly, straining to catch a glimpse of her face in the suffocating dark, but the lift allowed him nothing. Only the pressure of her hold told him the truth—she was scared, yes, but she had chosen him to lean on. Out of everyone, her hand had reached for him.

A wave of emotions stormed inside him. Protectiveness so fierce it nearly hurt. A tenderness he hadn’t known he was capable of. And a fear—an irrational, unexplainable fear, that he might lose this warmth if he moved even an inch.

He didn’t clasp her hand back. He couldn’t. His body refused to move, still trapped in the shock of this silent confession her touch carried. So he just stood there, his breathing shallow, his entire being trembling under the weight of that small gesture.

He lowered his head slightly, trying to steady himself, whispering under his breath so quietly that no one could hear

“Breathe, Shaurya… breathe.”

And for the first time in years, the fearless leader of Kaala Darbar felt like a boy again—helpless, restless, and hopelessly alive in the darkness.

The lift jerked to a stop, and with a hiss, the heavy doors slid open.

Everyone stepped out, the thick, heated air of the underground chamber wrapping around them instantly.

Shaurya lingered for a second, bending slightly toward Saaisha. His voice dropped to a soft murmur, meant only for her

“Relax… we’re here, hmm? You can open your eyes now.”

Her lashes fluttered, and slowly, she obeyed. She drew in a shaky breath, steadying herself before giving a small nod. Then, as if remembering where they were, she gently slipped her hand free from his.

Shaurya felt the loss immediately. A faint ache tugged at his chest, but he pushed it down, stepping out of the lift to join the others.

Now, they stood together—unmasked. There was no need for pretenses today. No outsiders were here. Only the four pillars of Kaala Darbar, revealed in their truest form.

And before them stood the man who had betrayed them.

A man who was meant to protect the innocent, yet had become the reason behind an innocent’s scars.

He flinched at the sound of the door opening, his head snapping up. The sight of them—his bosses, the four shadows of Kaala Darbar made a violent shiver crawl down his spine, locking his body in place.

Then his eyes found Saaisha.

And he froze.

Shaurya began to walk forward, every step deliberate, heavy with authority. Behind him, Saaisha instinctively shifted back, pressing herself against the corner.

Her chest tightened as she watched them—Veer, Ryan, Siya, and Shaurya.

These were the same people who laughed with her, ate with her, teased her. But now, standing in this dark underground, they weren’t her friends. They weren’t family.

They were something else entirely.

The power in their eyes was cold, merciless. The weight of their presence pressed into the room, suffocating and fierce. Their faces had turned to stone, their energy radiating like fire barely contained.

And for the first time, Saaisha understood.

This was what they meant when they said they were mafia.

Not rulers by crown. Not leaders by title. But punishers—delivering justice in ways the world above would never dare.

A shiver raced down her spine. Even without seeing the punishment yet, the thought of what they might do was enough to make her blood run cold.

Shaurya stood before the trembling man, his gaze sharp and voice cold enough to freeze the air.

“How are you, Steve?”

The man’s lips quivered. His throat bobbed painfully as he stammered, “S–Saarkar… I… I didn’t know…”

Shaurya tilted his head slightly, his tone almost unnervingly gentle.

“Shhh… relax, hmm?”

His fingers moved with deliberate calm as he began unbuttoning the man’s shirt. His eyes never blinked, never softened.

“I asked you something. Don’t make me repeat my words.”

The man’s tears spilled freely now, his body frozen in terror.
“I… I’m fine, Saarkar.”

Shaurya’s hand moved with measured slowness as he stripped the shirt away and tossed it aside. “Good.”

He extended his hand without a word. Ryan understood instantly, slipping a gleaming blade into his palm.

The steel glinted under the dim light, reflecting Shaurya’s deadly calm face. He pressed the blade against the man’s chest—right above the tattoo etched into his flesh: Lady Justice.

The man shook violently, his knees threatening to buckle.

“Saarkar… I swear, I didn’t know! I thought... I thought she was some prostitute… Please, you must believe me, I didn’t mean..”

His words were sliced apart by his own scream as the blade sank under his skin. Blood welled instantly.

Shaurya’s expression remained steady, almost serene.

“We give this tattoo to those who protect the innocent… not to those who destroy them.”

With one ruthless motion, he carved away the skin where the mark was etched, tearing the very symbol of honor from the man’s body.

The man collapsed with a howl, clutching his bleeding chest. The metallic stench filled the air, heavy and suffocating. A deadly smile curved on Shaurya’s lips—not madness, but grim satisfaction.

Saaisha’s hand flew to her mouth, muffling the scream that rose in her throat. She staggered back, her body trembling.

The same man who smiled with her at dinner, who carried her paintings, now stood painted in blood. This side of Shaurya—this merciless Sarkar, made her spine go cold.

The man collapsed to the ground, clutching his bleeding chest, his screams bouncing off the stone walls.

Shaurya’s voice cut through his cries, cold and merciless.

“What is the definition of innocent in your mind, hmm? Since when are prostitutes treated like criminals?”

The man trembled, his body wracked with pain, his words spilling out in broken gasps.

“I… I was drunk…”

Before he could finish, Shaurya’s palm cracked across his face with a force that echoed.

“Shut the fuck up!” Shaurya roared, his voice thunderous.

He fisted the man’s hair and yanked him up brutally, forcing him to stand despite his collapsing knees. His eyes burned into him like fire.

“You also don’t know anything about the person behind this, do you?”

The man shook his head desperately. “No!”

Shaurya’s voice was sharp, his grip unrelenting.

“Didn’t you know we’ve been searching for her culprits for days?”

The man’s chest heaved, his voice ragged.

“No! I didn’t! I found out only yesterday that’s why I surrendered myself, didn’t I?!” His words broke into a scream.

Shaurya’s glare was like steel, pinning him down. The man swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he spoke again, this time steadier, as if trying to cling to dignity through the pain.

“I know the heinous crime I committed. I’m not running away from it. I joined this mafia for justice… but I broke its rules. So I deserve punishment. That’s why I surrendered myself. I know I tainted Kaala Darbar’s name… but at least let me be the example that stops anyone from daring again.”

The four pillars stared at him, their expressions unflinching, unreadable. No one was surprised. No one softened. He was one of their own and this was the least he owed.

Shaurya’s voice came, low and commanding.

“What did you do?”

The man’s gaze drifted past him toward the corner where Saaisha stood. Their eyes met for a brief, heavy moment. His lips trembled.

“I’m… sorry,” he whispered to her, guilt burning in his tone.

Then he turned back to Shaurya, his chest rising and falling sharply.

“I’ve already taken poison. A slow one. I knew you’d torture me but not kill me… so I chose my own death. Three hours from now, I’ll be gone.”

Still, the four stood unmoved, their faces carved from stone.

But Saaisha... her heart pounded so violently it felt like it would burst from her chest. Her breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as if the air itself had turned heavy. Shock rattled through her bones until her knees trembled. She dug her nails into her palms, trying to anchor herself, but her mind spun out of control.

What was happening?

Why was this man... the same man who had torn her soul apart...confessing now?

Why was he surrendering, accepting guilt, choosing death on his own terms?

Was this guilt clawing at him?

Some warped idea of redemption?

Or was it just cowardice—a desperate attempt to escape the punishment he truly deserved?

The questions clashed inside her head, each one sharper than the last, each one refusing to give her peace.

But amid the storm of confusion, one truth cut through with brutal clarity.

Sympathy did not stir inside her. Not even for a breath.

Her jaw clenched. Her fists tightened. Her eyes burned.

How could she feel pity for him? How?

Because of him, she was standing here surrounded by walls that reeked of blood and screams.

Because of his “mistake,” her life had been ripped apart, her body broken, her spirit scarred. He had reduced her laughter to silence, her freedom to chains.

And now, watching him shiver in pain, watching poison eat him alive, did nothing to soften the jagged edges inside her.

His death... no matter how brutal, no matter how drawn out, would never erase what he had done to her. It would never give her back what he had stolen.

Her lips trembled, but not from weakness. From rage. From the weight of memories she could never forget.

And in that moment, she realized..

Even if he begged, even if he cried, even if he bled until the floor turned red beneath him.

her heart would not waver. Not for him. Not ever.

Shaurya finally released him, stepping back. His voice was steady, commanding, lethal.

“Didn’t you hear?” His eyes flicked to Ryan, Veer, and Siya.

“You have only three hours.”

His lips curved into a dark, merciless smile.

“Make sure he feels every second of it.”

Veer moved first. Calm, composed, deliberate. He dragged a chair closer and placed it gently behind Siya, bending low to whisper, his voice almost tender,

“You don’t need to lift a finger today… just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Hmm?”

He helped her sit, then straightened, and his eyes turned to Steve—cold, razor sharp.

Steve’s tears streamed faster.
“Hukum… please…”

“Shh.” Veer cut him off, his voice laced with venom.

“Shameful… that someone from my own division could sink this low.”

Without another word, he grabbed Steve’s trembling hand. In the other, he held a cutter.

Slowly, mercilessly, he began slicing through the fingers one by one. Each crack of bone, each tear of flesh echoed in the room. Steve screamed, throat hoarse, eyes rolling back from the agony.

“You used these hands to beat her, didn’t you?”

Veer’s tone stayed calm, almost conversational, as if he was pointing out a fact.

Steve tried to speak, but only broken sobs came out. When the last finger fell, Veer dropped his hand and stepped back, his face expressionless, as though nothing had happened.

Then came Ryan.

Cracking his knuckles, rolling his shoulders, tilting his neck until it popped, he walked forward with a predator’s stride.

Steve’s eyes widened, terror taking over. He shrieked, voice cracking,

“Not you… please… not you, Shaitaan… not you…”

Ryan’s lips curved faintly, but his eyes were void of mercy. “Oh, come on,” he said, almost mockingly.

“I’m not that bad.”

He moved to the weapons stand, and when he turned, a twisted gleam lit his eyes.

“See what I brought for you,” he said, holding it up—a whip-like chain, blades attached to it, glinting under the light.

“Made a new toy. Just for you. Feel special yet?”

Steve tried to crawl backward, but Ryan grabbed him by the throat and yanked him forward. His grip was brutal, his voice low, each word heavy with threat.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

Then Ryan shoved him around so his back was exposed, the chain dragging across the floor with a sinister scrape. Leaning close, his voice dropped to a hiss,

“And one rule—you’re not allowed to scream. If I hear a single sound… you’ll regret it.”

Steve trembled violently, but his mind flashed back to the day of his crime—his own words.

“You deserved it. You should’ve been quiet. Should’ve moaned instead of screaming.”

And then... CRACK.

The first strike tore across his back, shredding flesh in an instant. Blood splattered the floor. Steve’s scream ripped through the chamber, loud, raw, uncontrollable.

“Tsk, tsk…” Ryan clicked his tongue, lifting the chain again.
“Didn’t I warn you?”

He looked to his men.
“Pick up his fingers. Shove them in his mouth.”

One of the men obeyed, collecting the bloodied remains. Steve thrashed wildly, shaking his head, but his captors pinned him down. His own severed fingers were forced past his lips, choking him, muffling his sobs into guttural, broken cries.

Ryan’s whip fell again. And again. And again. Each lash tore deeper, until his back was nothing but ribbons of flesh, soaked and dripping, his body collapsing into a pool of red. The ground itself was painted with him.

When Steve’s body went limp, Ryan barked at his men, “Wake him up.” Buckets of icy water were thrown, dragging him back from unconsciousness.

And then Ryan’s gaze shifted.

His eyes locked on Saaisha.

She stood in the corner, stiff, trembling. Her lips quivered, her fingers clenched so tightly they had turned white. Yet her eyes, unblinking, fixed on the monster who had once made her bleed remained open. Wide. Unmoving.

Then slowly ryan moved towards her and stood in front of saaisha but still saaisha was not looking at him he was looking behind him at the man collapsed on the floor painted with blood. 

Then a voice came cold, “SCARED?” 

Saaisha flinched when she heard someone close. Her wide eyes darted forward.

It was Ryan.

A sadistic smirk curled on his lips as he bent slightly toward her.

Her gaze flickered to his hands... stained red with fresh blood.

Slowly, her eyes shifted behind him, where Shaurya stood. His face, his hands, even the edge of his shirt still carried smears of blood.

Then her eyes drifted to Veer—his palm stained, yet standing protectively near Siya, who watched in silence.

Ryan’s voice broke through again, mocking and sharp.

“Ready to lose the challenge, hmm? Ready to fulfill my demand?”

Saaisha’s throat bobbed, her breath uneven. For a heartbeat, she faltered. But then her trembling lashes lowered and rose again, her eyes locking back on Ryan. She shook her head slowly, her voice barely a whisper.

“No… I’m not scared.”

Ryan chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “Good.”

He walked away into the shadows. Minutes crawled by before he returned, his boots echoing on the floor.

When he came back, he placed three objects in front of her with deliberate care.

A packet. A gun. A knife.

Saaisha stared, confused.
“What is this?”

Ryan tilted his head, his grin widening. “Decide how he should die. Poison… bullet… or blade.”

A violent shiver ran through her body.

Yes, she wanted revenge.
Yes, she wanted that monster to suffer. But this...this was something else. Watching a man die with her choice was a new terror altogether.

She swallowed, her voice shaky,

“But… he already took poison. He’s going to die anyway, isn’t he?”

Ryan laughed, but there was no warmth, no humor. Just cruelty.

“He thinks he decides how he dies. No.” His eyes burned into hers.

“Here, in Kaala Darbar, we decide. Understand the difference.”

He pointed at each item, explaining like a waiter listing specials on a menu.

“This poison? It will rot his body from inside. His organs will fail one by one. He won’t be able to breathe… or scream. He’ll suffocate slowly, begging for air.”

He tapped the gun.

“With this, we’ll shoot him.. hands, legs, stomach. He’ll bleed out, screaming for death… but alive long enough to pray for it.”

Finally, his fingers hovered over the knife.

“And this… oh, this is art. We’ll carve him open, line after line. Then pour red chili water… lemon water… every cut will burn like fire eating him alive.”

Saaisha’s lips parted, but no words came. Her hands shook as she imagined every horrific image he painted.

He was speaking as if naming dishes from a menu, and she… she was expected to pick one.

Her chest tightened. She trembled. A chill crawled across her spine.

“Choose faster, Saaisha…”

The voice that cut through this time wasn’t Ryan’s.

It was Shaurya’s.

He stood beside her now, tall, unflinching, his expression cold as steel, his voice sharp enough to freeze the air.

“Otherwise… he’ll die on his own. And you’ll lose the right to decide his fate.”

Saaisha’s eyes darted to the weapons laid before her. The packet. The gun. The knife.

Her hands curled into fists. Her breath shook.

And time… was running out.

Tick..

Tick..

Tick...

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