Darkness.
That was the first thing Anaya Sen felt.
Heavy… suffocating darkness.
Her head throbbed.
Her body felt weak, almost numb.
Slowly, painfully, her eyes opened.
Blurred vision.
A dim yellow light flickering somewhere above.
The smell of damp walls and metal filled the air.
She tried to move—
But her hands wouldn't.
Cold chains tightened around her wrists.
Her heart skipped.
Panic rushed in instantly.
She pulled again.
Nothing.
She was tied to a chair.
"Finally awake."
A voice echoed in the room.
Calm.
Cold.
Familiar.
Anaya's breath hitched as her vision cleared.
Standing in front of her…
Hands in his coat pockets…
Was Viktor Dragovich.
Her chest tightened.
"You…" she whispered.
Viktor smiled slightly.
"Good to see you awake, Miss Sen."
Anaya tried to stay strong.
"Let me go."
Viktor chuckled softly.
"Straight to the point. I like that."
He walked closer.
Slow.
Measured steps.
"You know why you're here?"
Anaya didn't answer.
Didn't look away either.
That only amused him more.
"Your father was just as stubborn," Viktor said quietly.
That hit her.
Hard.
"Don't talk about my father," she snapped.
Viktor's smile faded slightly.
"He died protecting something that belongs to me."
Anaya's breathing grew heavier.
"I don't have anything."
Viktor leaned closer.
His eyes locked onto hers.
"Oh… you do."
Before she could react—
He raised his hand.
One of his men stepped forward.
Holding a syringe.
Anaya's eyes widened.
"What are you doing—"
"Relax," Viktor said calmly.
"This will just… help you remember."
The needle moved closer.
Her heart raced wildly.
"Aryan will come," she said, her voice shaking but firm.
Viktor paused.
Then smiled again.
"That's exactly what I want."
Meanwhile…
Miles away—
Inside a dark warehouse—
A man screamed.
The sound echoed against the walls.
Cold.
Raw.
Terrifying.
Standing in front of him was Aryan Malhotra.
But this wasn't the same Aryan.
Not the calm, controlled one.
This version…
Was pure rage.
Blood stained his knuckles.
His shirt slightly torn.
His eyes—
Empty.
Cold.
Dangerous.
The man tied to the chair cried out again.
"I told you everything! I swear!"
Aryan stepped closer slowly.
"You told me nothing useful."
His voice was low.
Deadly quiet.
"I don't know where they took her!" the man begged.
Aryan tilted his head slightly.
Then grabbed the man's collar.
Pulled him forward.
"You were in that van."
"I— I just drive—"
The man's words cut off as Aryan's grip tightened.
"You had five seconds to decide whether you live or die."
Silence.
Then Aryan whispered—
"Time's up."
A loud crash echoed in the room.
His men looked away.
Even they couldn't watch sometimes.
Because when it came to her—
Aryan had no limits.
Minutes later—
One of his men rushed inside.
"Boss!"
Aryan didn't turn.
"What?"
"We traced a signal."
That made him stop.
Slowly… he turned.
"Where?"
The guard swallowed nervously.
"Old shipping yard… outskirts of the city."
Aryan's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Prepare the cars."
His voice turned ice cold.
"We're going to bring her back."
Outside, engines roared again.
Storm clouds gathered in the sky.
And somewhere in the darkness—
Anaya sat chained…
Fighting to stay conscious…
Waiting.
Hoping.
That he would come.