As the ambulance sped Arisa to the hospital, a tactical police unit was transporting Abir Khan in their van, his wrists bound in heavy steel. Abir remained hauntingly calm. There was no trace of fear on his face—only that signature, twisted smirk.
"It's over, Abir Khan," the officer spat. "Your empire ends today. You'll spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell."
Abir tilted his head, his gaze meeting the officer's. The sheer coldness in his eyes made the officer's heart skip a beat.
"Chains were forged for the weak," Abir whispered, his voice like silk. "And me? I am the law."
Suddenly, the police van screeched to a violent halt. A sleek, black luxury car had blocked the road ahead. Before the officers could even react, the area was engulfed in thick, blinding smoke.
What followed in the next few seconds was a symphony of chaos. Even while handcuffed, Abir snapped the neck of the officer beside him with terrifying precision. The muffled sounds of breaking bones and agonized screams echoed within the van. When Abir stepped out from the smoke, he was no longer bound—the blood-stained handcuffs lay discarded on the asphalt. His white shirt was splattered with blood, lending him a demonic elegance.
"Turn the car around," Abir commanded his men, who had appeared from the shadows. "I need to be at the hospital. My angel is sleeping, and it's vital that I am by her side when she wakes."
His men bowed in silent submission, leaving behind a trail of fallen officers. Abir knew Aryan would hunt him, the law would chase him—but Abir Khan hadn't come to be caught. He had come to reclaim his empire and his obsession.
Back at the hospital, Arisa's hand twitched. Did she know that the man who claimed to love her was coming for her again, his hands stained with the blood of those who tried to stop him? Was it love, or a lethal addiction? Where would Arisa's fate lead now?
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