Author's POV

The heavy doors of the torture room shut behind them, sealing away the screams and the stench of blood.

One by one, the four pillars entered the private chamber --- a place where no outsider dared to step.

As they entered, Saaisha walked in too, her steps casual, as if she belonged there. Without hesitation, she dropped onto the tall, imposing chair at the head of the table, the chair that belonged to Sarkar.

The very seat none of the others, not even Veer or Ryan, would ever dare touch.

She twisted open a water bottle, took a few long gulps, then leaned back with a sigh.

“Kitni garmi thi wahan par,” she muttered casually, wiping her lips.

(It was so hot there)

Veer froze mid-step. Siya’s eyes went wide. Ryan’s brows shot up, and he tilted his head, studying her like she had just declared war.

Only Shaurya remained still, leaning silently against the wall, his arms crossed. His expression betrayed nothing. But when the others instinctively glanced at him, his single nod told them all to let it be.

Saaisha capped the bottle, then looked straight at Ryan.

She hopped off the chair and dusted her hands like she had just finished some task.

“Remember the challenge, hmm?”

Ryan said nothing, his expression unreadable.

“Oyii, I’m talking to you!” she huffed, then looked him up and down.

“Wait… maybe the problem is you’re too tall. Awaz upar tak pahunch hi nahi rahi hogi.”

With that, she climbed right back onto Shaurya’s chair, balancing herself like a little queen addressing her court.

Veer smothered a laugh, Siya pressed her lips together, and even Ryan’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement.

“You lost the challenge,” Saaisha announced, pointing at him with all the authority in the world.

“Now you have to fulfill my one demand.”

Ryan’s jaw ticked. His voice was low, flat. “What do you want?”

A wide grin spread across her face.

“I want to call you Ryan bhai. Just like I call Veer bhai. Because ‘Ryan sir’ is too professional. I don’t like it.”

“No.” His reply was immediate, sharp, final.

Saaisha gasped, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

“But why? You can’t go back on your words, Mr…” She paused, turning to Siya with childlike innocence.

“What’s his surname?”

“Singhania,” Veer supplied, lips twitching.

“Ha!” Saaisha turned back, victorious. “Yes, Mr. Singhania. You lost, so you can’t refuse.”

Ryan arched one brow, his tone laced with mockery.

“Did you ever hear anyone call me Ryan bhai or bhaiya? Have you heard Siya call me that? No. So why would you?”

Saaisha puffed her cheeks like an offended child, muttering just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Inhe izzat ki aadat hi nahi hai toh kya main bhi bado ki izzat na karun, huh?”

Then, more stubbornly, she declared,

“Waise bhi, maine aapse pucha thodi hai. Bata rahi hoon. Abse Ryan bhaiya hi bulaungi. You can’t back off from your words.”

Ryan’s eyes darkened. “I said..”

“Mr. Rathore...” saaisha called to scare ryan.

The two words cut through the room like a blade. Everyone’s head snapped toward the corner, where Shaurya stood silent until now, his presence so heavy it seemed to shift the air.

His gaze was fixed on Saaisha, hard and unblinking, the kind of stare that stripped away every layer of defiance.

As saaisha looked at him, the playful spark in her eyes faltered. Her breath caught. She quickly scrambled down from the chair, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, and edged toward the corner, standing quietly like a chastised child.

The room fell silent, the weight of Shaurya’s presence lingering like a shadow.

Shaurya’s boots echoed softly as he moved toward her, each step deliberate, heavy with an authority that made even the walls hold their breath.

He stopped a short distance away, not too close.

His voice was low, steady, but edged with something unspoken.

“Why aren’t you scared?”

Saaisha slowly lifted her gaze to him. The mischief and playful defiance she had shown seconds ago vanished like mist under fire. What remained was steel.. her jaw tight, her eyes burning with a fury that refused to bend.

She inhaled deeply, then stepped forward, unflinching, her stare piercing through him.

“Scared of what, Sarkar?”

The way she said it, sharp, deliberate, like a challenge thrown into the silence made the entire room freeze.

It wasn’t just the name. It was the weight behind it. A single word spoken like an equal, like someone unafraid of the storm standing before her.

For a moment, Shaurya said nothing. His eyes darkened, the muscles in his jaw tightening as if he was forcing back an instinct. Then, finally, his voice broke the silence.

“Just now, you watched a man get butchered before your eyes. And not only that.. you decided how he would die.”

Shaurya’s voice was calm, cold, but there was an edge that cut deeper than steel.

“You didn’t choose mercy, Saaisha. You chose cruelty.”

His eyes never left hers, burning into her like he could read every flicker in her soul.

“This was your first time seeing blood spilled like that. Your first time giving death an order. So tell me, why aren’t you shaking? Why aren’t you trembling?”

His words echoed, but inside him was a war.

Pride for her strength, her defiance. Relief that she hadn’t shattered into pieces like so many before her.

But above all, there was something else. Something darker. Something that gnawed at him with every heartbeat.

Fear.

A fear so sharp it hollowed his chest. Not fear of losing her. But fear of what she was becoming.

Because as much as he wanted her to rise from her pain, he never wanted her to drown in the darkness that ruled him.

He had already sold his soul to Kaala Darbar’s shadows. But her? She was the one pure flame that had stepped into their hell without burning.

And now, looking at her.. her eyes blazing, her voice steady, her body unflinching. Shaurya felt that flame twist into something else. Into fire that could scorch everything in its path.

She had laughed with Ryan only moments ago, as if death itself were nothing but a game.

She had sat on his chair, the throne no one dared touch with casual ease, as if it had always belonged to her.

She had stared at cruelty, not with horror, but with acceptance.

And it terrified him.

More than any bullet. More than any rival. More than death itself.

Because Shaurya didn’t fear enemies... he had killed them all.
He didn’t fear betrayal.. he was betrayal’s master.
But seeing her like this, smiling through blood, steady in cruelty, fearless in the face of brutality…

That was the first time in years Sarkar felt powerless.

Because if she kept walking this path, he wouldn’t be saving her from her monsters... he’d be watching her become one of them.

Saaisha didn’t move back, didn’t falter. Instead, she walked with slow, deliberate steps and sank into the chair again, the throne of Kaala Darbar as if it had always been hers.

She leaned back, her chin tilted high, every inch of her posture screaming of a queen who had just claimed her crown.

Her gaze locked on Shaurya.

“Scared?” she repeated, her voice steady, sharp enough to cut the silence.

“The only thing I feel right now… is relief.”

The words fell heavy. The room stilled.

For months they had seen her broken, fragile, silent. They had seen her fight, yes, but never like this. This wasn’t the trembling girl who had once shrunk from their shadows. This was someone else entirely, her eyes blazing, her voice carrying a weight that made even Ryan’s smirk fade.

Then she continued, her tone dropping lower, each word laced with a raw truth that clawed at their hearts.

“The one who has stared death this close, Saarkar… can never be scared of anything again.”

The room fell still. But she didn’t waver, her eyes boring straight into his.

“You know what’s really scary?” she began, her words cutting like glass.

Her hands gripped the armrests until her knuckles turned white.

“Scary is when you step out to buy medicines… and you never return home.”

Her chest rose, uneven, but her tone only grew sharper.

“Scary is when strangers rip your clothes apart, and all you can do is beg for mercy that never comes.”

Her lips trembled, yet her eyes blazed.

“Scary is knowing a man is about to rape you, but you can’t even see his face. You only feel his hands, his breath, his filth all over you.”

Her nails dug into her palms until blood welled, but she pressed on.

“Scary is when you scream for help and they beat you harder for screaming.”

Her voice shook, but her words landed like knives.

“Scary is when your eyes are tied by blind fold, and acid is poured onto your chest, and you wonder if your flesh will melt before your soul leaves your body.”

Her breathing grew jagged, rising like a storm.

“Scary is when hands crush your throat, choking you, and each broken gasp feels like your last breath..”

“STOP!”

Shaurya’s voice thundered, slicing through her words.

His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed at his temple. Every muscle in his body had gone rigid, his entire frame trembling not with weakness, but with a fury so deep it could shatter mountains.

Ryan, Veer, and Siya held their breath, their bodies stiff. Even they had seen countless tortures, countless horrors but never had words painted pain so vividly, so mercilessly.

Saaisha’s chest heaved, her breath ragged. Her fingers were curled into fists, nails buried deep into her flesh. Her eyes glistened, but not with weakness with rage.

Shaurya’s own chest rose and fell like a caged beast fighting to stay in control.

He had heard screams. He had seen wounds. But hearing her voice lay it bare like this, stripping herself open, cutting herself raw, it tore something inside him no blade could touch.

Her words were daggers, each one piercing him deeper than any enemy ever had.

And as the silence thickened, it wasn’t just Saaisha who was trembling on the inside.

It was Shaurya.

Saaisha gaze shifted, steady and unflinching, until it locked onto Shaurya.

“When I told you I don’t want to curse my life anymore… that I want to start living it… I meant it.”

She leaned forward ever so slightly, her tone sharper now, her eyes burning with an eerie fire.

“I’m not scared of anything anymore, not even my own death. So tell me, Saarkar, why would blood and pain of a monster ever be something to be scared of?”

The room grew heavier, air pressing down like stone.

Shaurya dragged a palm down his face, exhaling as if to steady himself. His other hand raked through his hair, agitation tightening every line of his body. He didn’t speak because he didn’t trust what would come out if he did.

But while Shaurya wrestled with the storm inside him, Ryan hadn’t blinked once. His piercing gaze was locked on Saaisha searching, probing, like he was trying to peel away her skin to glimpse the soul beneath.

There was something in his eyes… not judgment, not disdain, but recognition. Like he was looking for someone he had lost or someone he thought could never exist.

Shaurya noticed.

His eyes flicked to Ryan, narrowing. He stepped closer, laying a firm hand on Ryan’s shoulder. The silent weight of his touch was enough to break Ryan’s trance.

Shaurya gave the slightest shake of his head. Perhaps a reminder. Something only the two of them understood.

Shaurya’s voice cut through the silence, firm yet low.

“Let’s end this today.”

He turned to Saaisha, his eyes holding hers.

“Do you want to end the life of your first culprit today?”

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t hesitate. Only gave a small, firm nod.

Shaurya’s lips pressed together as he gave a silent signal to Ryan, Veer, and Siya. The three pillars left the room, their footsteps fading until only silence remained.

Now, it was just Shaurya and Saaisha.

He didn’t speak. Instead, he crossed the room, pulled the first-aid box toward him, and sat down in front of her.

Saaisha blinked at him, confused.

“Mr. Rathore?”

He ignored the question, took a piece of cotton, soaked it with disinfectant, and extended his hand.

“Forward your hand.”

Her brows furrowed, but she did as told, holding out her hand still tightly curled into a fist.

“Open it,” Shaurya said softly.

When she uncurled her fingers, both of them could see it her nails had dug so deep into her palms that tiny crescents of blood had formed.

Saaisha stared at them, almost startled. She hadn’t even realized she was in pain. Her gaze flicked to Shaurya, wondering he had noticed before she did.

Without a word, Shaurya began cleaning her palm, his touch careful, almost reverent. His silence pressed heavier than his words ever could.

Her eyes softened.

“Mr. Rathore… don’t worry. I won’t become one of them.”

Her voice was low, stripped of fury now, no fire only quiet resolve.

“I mean it. I won’t become a shadow. I won’t turn into a monster who feels peace in someone else’s pain.”

Shaurya said nothing. He kept tending her wounds, his expression unreadable.

“Fine,” she huffed gently, trying to lighten the silence.

“I won’t come here again, okay? I won’t step inside Kaala Darbar again. Promise. Pinky promise, Mr. Rathore.”

She tried pulling her hand away, but he didn’t let go. His grip was steady, his silence louder than any scolding.

“Say something,” she pressed, frustration bubbling in her tone.

"Stop hurting yourself lotus" shaurya said, still bandaging her wounds.

Saaisha looked at her hands and then shaurya, who was carefully cleaning her palm.

Then she said, "I didn't noticed it and I didn't meant to hurt myself."

But shaurya didn't said anything just slightly shook his head.

With frustration saaisha snapped,
“And stop sulking like a five-year-old. Saarkar.”

Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes unreadable.

“Okay… as you wish.”

She arched an eyebrow, studying him. She kept looking at him and didn't said anything either as if she is challenging him to take his reply back.

His lips curved faintly, and he cleared his throat before muttering,

“Okay, Lotus. I’m not sulking anymore.”

A small smile tugged at her lips.

“Better. Warna gussa sunte ap mera”

Shaurya shook his head, a ghost of amusement breaking through his heavy composure.

“Aisa ji?”

“Hnn ji.” She replied instantly, without missing a beat.

He sighed and stood, moving toward the door. But before he could step out, her voice rang out light, innocent.

“Saarkar, suniye!”

He stopped, turning halfway to her.

“Kahiye, Lotus… but please, don’t call me by this name in public.”

Her brows knitted in confusion and asked innocently.

“Then… should I call you that in private? You know… when it’s just you and me?”

Shaurya froze, staring at her with wide eyes, caught completely off guard.

“Jabse bolna shuru kiya hai… kuch bhi bol deti ho. Itna toh mujhe guns aur bombs se darr nahi laga jitna tumhari baaton se lagne laga hai.”

Her soft giggle spilled into the room, lightening the heavy air.
She thought he is praising her.

“Chalein?” she asked.

Both of them stepped back into the torture room again.

Inside one of the cells, a man lay sprawled on the cold floor, his breath ragged, his body a map of bruises and blood. He was barely alive kept breathing only so that every gasp, every flicker of pain, would drag his suffering longer.

Saaisha’s eyes locked on him. Recognition flashed across her face like a blade.

This was the man, the one who had dragged her into hell, the one who had raped her first.

The four pillars stood outside the prison, shadows of power watching silently, while he rotted within.

Saaisha turned to Shaurya, her lips curving in a twisted half-smile.

“Look at his condition,” she said softly, but her words cut like ice.

“And you called me cruel.”

Then, with mock offense, she lifted her hand and pressed it lightly against the left side of her chest, right above her heart.

“Ouch… that hurts, Saarkar. After doing this, you still call me cruel? Not fair.”

Her teasing tone in that blood-soaked room was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

Veer and Siya exchanged a glance, struggling to hold back their laughter. Even Ryan’s lips twitched with something dangerously close to amusement. But Shaurya only shook his head, a silent storm flickering in his eyes.

The man inside didn’t last long. His punishment ended in death, his body slumping lifelessly onto the floor.

As they turned to leave, Saaisha suddenly stopped. Her steps froze mid-way, her gaze fixed on something across the room.

Everyone noticed her stillness. Confused, they followed the line of her eyes.

And then they saw it.

In the opposite cell, crouched low in the corner, sat two familiar figures---her chacha and chachi. Curled like cowards, their faces pale, their bodies trembling.

The air in the room shifted.

And Saaisha’s world tilted.

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