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The air inside the underground basement was thick with the stench of damp concrete, rusted iron, and fresh blood.

Shadows danced eerie patterns on the peeling walls, illuminated only by a single, flickering halogen bulb hanging from a frayed wire in the ceiling.

In the center of the room sat a man, tightly bound to a heavy wooden chair with thick, coarse ropes.

He was completely battered. His shirt was shredded, his skin was drenched in dark blood, and his head hung low.

His eyes were tightly shut in semi-consciousness, his ragged, painful breathing the only sound breaking the dead silence.

Surrounding him stood a tight perimeter of guards.

Their expressions were stone-cold, their black suits immaculate, standing like silent statues in the shadows.

Suddenly, the heavy metal door of the basement groaned open, cutting through the silence.

A sharp, rhythmic clicking of polished leather shoes echoed against the concrete floor.

A tall, imposing figure walked in, unhurried and entirely at ease.

Ekansh Singh Ranawat

He moved with the calm, lethal grace of a apex predator.

One of his hands was casually tucked into his trousers pocket, while the other held a heavy crystal tumbler.

He gently swirled the glass, the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass.

Inside was a premium, amber-hued Scotch, its golden surface catching the dim, unstable light of the bulb.

The sophisticated luxury of the drink stood as a sharp, chilling contrast to the brutal violence in the room.

The sheer authority radiating from his silhouette made the air feel instantly heavy, suffocating.

The guards instantly bowed their heads in absolute respect as Ekansh halted right in front of the bleeding man

He didn't look angry. His face, half-hidden in the shadows, was a mask of cold, terrifying indifference.

He looked down at the beaten man, took a slow, deliberate sip of his Scotch, and let the silence stretch.

He didn't need to raise his voice; his presence alone proved that in this ruthless world, he held the ultimate power of life and death in his hands.

"This is the guy who tried to shoot Vijendra Uncle" Shivam said, stepping out of the shadows.

He approached Ekansh and informed him of the captive's identity.
Ekansh showed absolutely no reaction.

He stood perfectly still, his expression completely blank, unbothered by the gravity of the revelation.

"Bhai, what should we do with him? Kill him, or hand him over to the police?" Dhruv asked, stepping forward, his voice tight with impatience and anger.

Ekansh finally spoke. His voice was low, deep, and laced with absolute authority. "Why should involve the police in our personal matters?"

With a swift, brutal movement, he dumped the remaining Scotch from his glass directly onto the captive's bloody face.

The sharp sting of the alcohol tore the man right out of his semi-consciousness.

He jerked violently against the ropes, gasping for air, thick crimson blood spilling from his mouth as his eyes flew open in pure terror.

Looking down at the trembling captive, Ekansh continued, his tone ice-cold. "Isne dad ko maarne ki koshish ki. Ise aisi saza milni chahiye ki har koi jaane ki Ekansh Singh Ranawat ke family par haath dalne par kya anjaam hota hai."

"Kill him" Dhruv snapped fiercely, turning to one of the guards and giving the order.

Before the guard could even raise his weapon, Ekansh held up a single hand, instantly freezing the room. "Not such an easy death. He deserves far worse than that."

Ekansh tilted his head slightly, casting a sharp, sideways glance toward another guard standing in the corner.

The guard instantly understood the silent command. He stepped forward toward the bound, trembling man, holding a fistful of coarse rock salt.

Ekansh turned on his heel and began walking toward the exit.

Shivam and Dhruv immediately fell into line, keeping a respectful distance, their steps perfectly synchronized a few paces behind him.

Behind them, the guard slammed the fistful of salt directly into the captive's raw, open wounds.

A blood-curdling, agonising shriek ripped through the basement, echoing off the damp concrete walls.

Yet, the three men didn't even flinch.

Their expressions remained completely detached, stone-cold, and unchanged as they kept walking forward.

Behind them, the guard ground the salt even deeper into the lacerations.

The captive screamed again, the intensity of his pain doubling, his voice breaking into a desperate plea for mercy that fell on completely deaf ears.

****

The trio stepped into the central SUV, a custom-built, matte-black armored vehicle that looked like a beast on the road.

As they pulled out of the alleyway, two identical black SUVs flanked them from the front, and three followed closely from behind.

The heavy convoy moved through the city like a dark shadow, cutting through the damp streets with absolute authority.

Soon, the long line of vehicles came to a halt at a crowded traffic red light.

Out of the misty rain, a woman carrying a crying infant wrapped in a torn cloth approached Ekansh's side of the window.

She tapped frantically on the glass.

"Sahab, mere bacche ne subah se kuch nahi khaya hain bhagwan ke naam par kuch de do" she pleaded desperately.

Inside the car, Ekansh didn't even turn his head.

His eyes remained fixed straight ahead on the road, hard and completely unmoved.

"Sahab kuch dedo na mera baccha ro rha hain" the woman wailed, her voice cracking through the glass.

The piercing wails of the hungry infant finally reached Ekansh's ears.

Instantly, an intense surge of anger rippled through him.

His jaw clenched so tight the bone structure sharpened, and his hand rolled into a rigid, white-knuckled fist.

The raw sound of the crying baby seemed to trigger a deep, deep resentment inside him.

Without a word, he hit the button and coldly rolled the tinted window all the way up, completely blocking her out.

"Kya bhai aap bhi? baccha bhookah hain kuch paise de dete na use." Dhruv said, sitting right next to him in the backseat, shaking his head.

Ekansh's voice came out like ice.

"If they can't take care of a child, why do they give birth to them? " he questioned coldly. "Sirf uske naam par bheekh mangane ke liye?
"Uski majboori hain isliye bheekh mang rahi hain kisi ko maza nahi aata bheekh mangne main" Shivam countered from the front passenger seat, looking back at him.

Ekansh scoffed, a bitter, dark smirk touching his lips.

"Uski koi majboori nahi hain bas kuch din uske naam par bheekh mangegi or phir use chodkar chali jayegi" he stated firmly.

"Aap har aurat ko ek hi tarazu mein kaise tol sakte ho?" Dhruv asked, frowning at his brother's extreme harshness.

"Kyunki saari aurato ki fitrat ek jaisi hi hoti hain" Ekansh replied, his tone final, dripping with absolute disdain.

Dhruv sighed deeply and gave up, knowing there was no point in arguing with him when it came to this topic.

Shaking his head, Dhruv unlocked his door, stepped out of the luxury car into the drizzle, and handed the weeping woman a stack of cash before stepping back inside as the signal turned green.

The fleet of matte-black armored SUVs turned sharply, tires gripping the wet asphalt as they sped through the elite, heavily guarded lanes of the city.

Within minutes, the convoy pulled up to a set of towering iron gates flanked by private security guards holding automatic weapons.

The polished brass letters on the stone wall gleamed under the heavy downpour: THE RANAWAT MANSION.

The gates groaned open instantly, and the vehicles glided down the long, brightly lit driveway, finally coming to a halt at the grand entrance porch.

Ekansh stepped out of the middle SUV first, his charcoal suit still immaculate, his face a mask of stone-cold authority.

Dhruv and Shivam followed closely behind him like loyal shadows.

As they entered the massive teakwood double doors, they walked straight up the grand staircase and entered the massive, soundproof study room.

Vijendra and Devraj were already seated there, anxiously waiting for them.

Ekansh walked in without a word, his imposing aura filling the room, and took his seat directly on the main center chair—the seat reserved only for the true head of the empire.

"usse acche se sabak sikha diya na?" Devraj asked, leaning forward with a sharp, calculating look.

"Aapko kya lagta hain, Dad? koi bade papa ko nuksan pahuchane ki koshish karega or bhai aise hi chup behte rahenge?" Dhruv spoke up instantly, his tone filled with pride for his brother.

"ab sab thik hain, to iss topic ko bhul jaate hain" Vijendra said, looking directly at Ekansh, wanting to put an end to the dark violence of the night.

Ekansh looked up, his piercing, dark eyes flashing with dangerous indifference.

"How can we just forget it?... abhi to main culprit ko sazza dena baaki hain." Ekansh stated, his voice flat but carrying a lethal weight. "Mehta's location—"

"pata chal gayi hain apne aadmi already bhej diye gaye vo ab bach kar nahi bhaag payega" Shivam interrupted smoothly, cutting him off to deliver the successful update.

Devraj smirked, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive shirt as he looked at Shivam.

"Are waah! tum to badi jaldi jaldi apni duties puri karne lage ho, lagta hain promotion dena padega" Devraj mocked lightly, his tone laced with his usual sarcasm.

Devraj then leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he brought up the most unexpected detail of the attack.

"Or vo ladki jisne bhai ki jaan bachai thi. Uska kuch pata chala?" Devraj asked Shivam, referring to the mystery woman who had intervened during the ambush on Vijendra.

"nahi, uska pata laga pana mushkil hain. Waha koi cameras nahi the jisme kuch capture ho or upar se sunsam sadak, phir bhi try kar rahe hain usse dundhne ki" Shivam explained, shaking his head gently.

Vijendra sighed deeply, a wave of genuine worry and gratitude washing over his strict face.

"Usse jaldi dhundho, Uss bacchi ne apni jaan par khelkar meri jaan bachayi hain" Vijendra ordered, his voice commanding yet emotional.

Dhruv noticed the way Ekansh’s jaw tightened at the mention of a female, and he couldn't help but chuckle teasingly to break the heavy air.

"bhai ka ka chehra to dekhiye! jaha bhi aurato or ladkiyo ki baat aati hain inka muh ban jaata hain, pata nahi inki shadi kaise hogi?" Dhruv joked, shaking his head.

Ekansh’s head snapped up, his icy, lethal gaze locking onto Dhruv.

"Excuse me? Main or shadi?" He questioned, his tone dripping with absolute disbelief and deep-rooted disgust.

"Kyu? kya tum kabhi shadi nahi karoge?" Vijendra asked, looking at his eldest son with a hint of hidden hope.

Ekansh stood up abruptly from the main chair, his towering figure casting a dark shadow across the mahogany desk.

"Dad, please don't start this topic again and again. You all know everything, yet... I don't want to hear another word on this matter" Ekansh declared coldly.

He turned and walked out of the study room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Vijendra watched the closed door, a heavy sigh escaping his chest as he shook his head in deep sorrow.

"na jaane isse ye baat kab samajh aayegi ki har aurat ek jaisi nahi hoti" Vijendra murmured painfully to the empty silence of the room.

Ekansh walked out of the study room, his boots clicking sharply against the floor.

His hands were stuffed into his pockets, his jaw tightly clenched, and a dangerous darkness cloaked his face.

The mere mention of marriage and women had triggered his deep-seated rage.

He walked down the grand staircase with swift, cold steps, completely ignoring the luxurious surroundings, wanting nothing more than to step out of this mansion and drown himself back into his ruthless empire.

He was just about to cross the main threshold and step outside into the rain when a soft, yet commanding voice echoed from behind.

"mujhse mile bina hi jaa rahe ho?" an elegant voice asked.

Ekansh stopped dead in his tracks.

The rigid tension in his shoulders melted just a fraction.

He turned around slowly to see Devyani Dadi standing near the archway, a rare, warm smile gracing her lips.

She was the only woman in the entire world who could pause his steps.

Ekansh walked up to her, his cold mask softening as he gently pulled his grandmother into a warm hug.

"aisa nahi hain dadi, thoda important kaam tha, isliye" Ekansh explained softly, his voice dropping its harsh edge.

"mujhe bhi jyada important?" Dadi teased gently, pulling back from the hug to look at him.

"Nothing is more important than you. You are precious to me" Ekansh replied truly, a rare glint of genuine affection in his dark eyes. "But right now, main thoda busy hoon"

Dadi smiled softly.

Ekansh leaned down, gently placing a warm kiss on her forehead.

"Bye" He murmured softly.

He turned back around and stepped out into the dark night, his cold, merciless aura returning the exact second his feet cleared the mansion doors.

****

Inside the pristine, busy corridors of the Ranawat Private Hospital, Dr. Mahira stood near the central nursing station.

She was holding a patient's chart, completely focused as she discussed the medical files with a fellow doctor.

"The post-operative vitals are fluctuating slightly" Mahira was saying, her voice low and steady. "We need to adjust the dosage before the afternoon rounds or—"

"Hi, Dr. Mahira" a smooth, deeply confident voice suddenly murmured right next to her ear.

Mahira froze mid-sentence.

A flash of pure frustration crossed her eyes, but she instantly suppressed it, forcing a tight, artificial smile onto her lips as she turned around.

"Hello, Dr. Rudra" Mahira replied flatly, her tone cold and formal.

Rudra stood there looking effortless, his hands casually tucked into his lab coat pockets.

Without taking his eyes off Mahira, he gave a sharp, silent gesture to the other doctor, signaling him to get lost.

Mahira sharply noticed the silent command as the colleague quickly scrambled away down the hall.

Rudra leaned back against the counter, a confident smirk playing on his lips. "If you are free today, could we go out for lunch somewhere?" he offered smoothly.

Mahira raised her clipboard slightly, pointing down at the charts.

"aap dekh sakte hain ki meri ek bahut important surgery schedule hai, Dr. Rudra. I am absolutely not free" she stated bluntly.

Rudra shrugged his shoulders casually. "A surgery can easily be postponed by a day."

Mahira’s expression turned remarkably cold as she looked him dead in the eye. "For me, my patients always come first. I can't be unprofessional like other doctors, can I?

Rudra remained completely silent, momentarily caught off guard by her sharp words.

"Please excuse me" Mahira stated firmly.

She turned on her heel and marched down the corridor.

The moment her back was turned to him, she rolled her eyes in deep irritation.

Rudra stood exactly where she left him, his eyes locking onto her retreating figure.

Slowly, a dark, amused grin spread across his face.

"I like her attitude" Rudra muttered to himself. "It’s going to be incredibly fun playing games with this one."

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