Chapter 51 – Shadows and Questions
– Aanya’s POV
The air smelled faintly of damp earth when I stepped out into the courtyard that night. The rain from earlier had left the ground cool under my bare feet, and somewhere beyond the walls of the farmhouse, crickets sang in the dark.
Milo was already there, tumbling around near the trimmed hedges like the little ball of fur he was. The moment he saw me, his tiny tail became a blur, and he bounded over, tripping on his own paws in his excitement.
I crouched to scoop him up, his warm little body wriggling in my arms, tongue darting out to lick my cheek. “Hi, baby,” I murmured, pressing my face into his fur. “Did you miss me?”
He yipped as if to say yes, and I laughed quietly—a sound that felt strange, almost foreign, after the heaviness of the past few days.
I settled onto the low stone bench under the neem tree, letting Milo climb into my lap. The moonlight spilled across the grass, silvering the edges of the leaves, and for a while, I let myself pretend this was normal. That I was just… me. No guards outside, no locked gates, no invisible chains binding me to a man whose world was nothing like mine.
Except… I could feel his eyes.
Even before I turned my head, I knew Raaz was watching me. He stood on the far side of the courtyard, near the open veranda, his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t close enough to hear my murmured words to Milo, but his gaze didn’t waver, and even from this distance, I felt the weight of it settle over me.
Part of me wanted to ask why. Why he needed to watch me even in moments like this. But another part knew the answer—it was the same reason he sent cars ahead of us, the same reason he’d whisked me away to this farmhouse in the first place.
Protection. Control. Two sides of the same coin.
Milo barked softly, as if annoyed that my attention had drifted. I smiled faintly, scratching behind his ears. “Sorry, Milo. I’m here.”
I didn’t hear Raaz approach. One moment he was a shadow at the edge of my vision, the next he was beside me, close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his cologne—warm, smoky, and something sharper underneath.
“You like him,” he said, nodding toward the puppy now curled up in my lap.
I looked down. “He likes me. There’s a difference.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t comment. His gaze lingered on me, searching, as if trying to read something beyond my words.
I hesitated, then decided this might be my only chance. “Raaz… can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything, jaan,” he said, but there was a warning in his tone—subtle, but there.
I met his eyes anyway. “If you want me to trust you… then you can’t hide things from me.”
His body went still, though his face didn’t change much. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” My voice was softer now, but steady. “Kartik. I know something happened, Raaz. I’m not stupid. If there’s danger—if someone’s threatening you because of me—I have the right to know.”
For a long moment, silence stretched between us. The only sound was Milo’s slow breathing as he drifted into sleep in my lap.
Raaz’s jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of something—anger? restraint?—passing through his eyes. Then, instead of answering, he reached down and took Milo gently from my arms, placing him on the bench beside me.
Before I could react, his hands were at my waist, pulling me up and toward him. My breath caught as I found myself against his chest, the heat of his body seeping into mine.
His gaze locked onto mine, dark and unreadable. “You don’t need to worry about Kartik,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. “You don’t need to worry about anyone.”
“That’s not an answer,” I whispered.
“It’s the only one I’m giving you.” His grip at my waist tightened, not in anger, but in something possessive, almost desperate. “I will keep you safe, Aanya. No matter what I have to do. That’s all you need to know.”
I searched his face, looking for something—anything—that would tell me whether this was protection or obsession, or maybe both. But all I saw was certainty, unshakable and terrifying in its own way.
He bent slightly, his forehead brushing mine. “You’re mine, jaan. And no one—no one—will touch you while I’m breathing.”
The words should have reassured me. Instead, they left a weight in my chest I couldn’t name.
I didn’t push him away. I didn’t argue. I just stood there in his arms, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palm, and wondering how much of myself I’d have to give up to stay safe in his world.
Raaz’s POV
The farmhouse was quiet, but not in the way peace feels. This quiet was thick, almost oppressive, like the air before a storm.
I was in the study, pacing in slow, deliberate steps, when Yash came in. His expression told me everything before his words did—tight jaw, quick strides, eyes that didn’t blink enough.
“We have the location,” he said.
For a fraction of a second, I stopped moving. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. “Where?” My voice was low, but I felt the edge in it.
Yash glanced toward the closed door before speaking again. “A safehouse on the outskirts of the city. He’s been staying there for two days. We’ve confirmed it’s him. Kartik.”
The name was enough to make the heat rise in my blood. That bastard. The one who dared to think about touching what’s mine. The one who thought he could use Aanya’s name in his threats and walk away breathing.
I didn’t even have to think about my next move. “Get the men. We leave now.”
“Raaz—” Yash started, but I cut him off with a look.
“No delays.”
He hesitated. “You know I’m coming with you.”
“No,” I said, firm enough that it wasn’t up for discussion. “You’re staying here.”
His brows drew together. “That’s not how this works. I’m your right hand. You go, I go.”
“Not tonight,” I told him, stepping closer. “Tonight, you stay with her.”
Understanding flickered in his eyes, but also resistance. “She’s safe here. You have guards—”
“Not enough,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. I took a breath, lowering it. “This isn’t about numbers, Yash. It’s about trust. I trust you to keep her safe. If Kartik or anyone else gets stupid while I’m gone, you make sure she doesn’t even hear the danger coming. Understand?”
He clenched his jaw, looking like he wanted to argue, but then he nodded once. “Fine. But you come back in one piece.”
“I’ll come back,” I said, though in my mind, coming back wasn’t the question. The question was whether I’d come back without blood still on my hands.
I left the study, walking down the dim hallway toward the bedroom. The door was ajar, and the soft glow from the bedside lamp spilled into the corridor. I pushed it open, my steps quieter now.
She was there. My jaan.
Aanya was curled on her side, the blanket tangled around her waist. Her breathing was even, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Milo was curled beside her stomach, his tiny chest rising and falling in sync with hers.
For a moment, I just stood there, taking her in. There was something about seeing her like this—unguarded, untouched by fear—that made my chest feel tight. I didn’t want to leave her. I didn’t want to be more than a room away from her, let alone miles.
But Kartik’s shadow was still out there.
I crossed the room slowly, my footsteps making no sound on the carpet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. My fingers lingered against her skin, soft and warm.
Her lips parted slightly in her sleep, and she stirred just enough to turn toward my touch. I bent down and pressed my lips to her forehead.
She made a small sound, almost like a sigh, but didn’t open her eyes.
I could have stayed like that all night, but time was slipping through my fingers. I straightened slowly, letting my gaze run over her one last time.
“Sleep, jaan,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “When I’m back, you won’t have to look over your shoulder anymore. I’ll make sure of it.”
I stood, my body heavy with the weight of what I was about to do, but my mind was razor sharp.
As I walked out of the bedroom, I didn’t look back. Looking back meant hesitating, and hesitation was a luxury I couldn’t afford tonight.
Downstairs, the men were already assembling. Engines were being checked, weapons loaded. Every movement was efficient, silent, charged with purpose.
Yash was at the door, his expression unreadable. “I’ll keep her safe,” he said simply.
I nodded once. “See that you do.”
When I stepped outside, the night air hit me—cool, damp, smelling faintly of rain and petrol. I slid into the back seat of the lead SUV, the convoy already in formation behind me.
As the gates of the farmhouse opened and the headlights cut through the darkness, I felt it settle inside me—the calm that comes before violence.
Tonight, I wasn’t leaving for negotiation. I wasn’t leaving for warning shots or power plays.
Tonight, I was leaving to end it.