Chapter 60: Friend
Aanya’s POV
The first thing I felt was his gaze.
Even before my eyes opened, I knew he was awake — the air felt charged, like it always did when Raaz was watching me. My lashes fluttered, and when I finally met his eyes, my breath caught.
He was lying on his side, one arm propping up his head, the other lazily draped across my waist. His expression wasn’t the usual smirk or the sharp glint of amusement. No — this was quieter. Assessing. As though he was memorizing every inch of my face like he might never see it again.
“You watch people while they sleep?” I muttered, my voice still thick from sleep.
“Not people.” His fingers skimmed my hair back from my forehead. “You.”
I shifted back an inch, only for him to close the distance again, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I don’t like space between us, jaan. Not in bed. Not anywhere.”
I pulled the sheet up higher, sitting halfway up. “You make it sound like you own the air I breathe.”
“I don’t own the air,” he said softly. “But I own the person breathing it.”
I looked away, because the intensity in his eyes was too much. Too consuming.
He didn’t push further — instead, he swung his legs off the bed and stretched, his muscles flexing in that easy way that reminded me he was dangerous without even trying. “Get ready. We have a guest.”
“A guest?” My stomach tightened. “Who?”
“You’ll see.”
The way he said it didn’t reassure me. Still, I got up, dressed, and tied my hair into a low braid. When I came downstairs, Raaz was already in the grand sitting room, and standing with him was a man I’d never seen before.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and eyes the color of steel — he carried himself like someone who knew exactly how lethal he could be. His suit was crisp, his hair slicked back, and there was an almost unnerving calm in his posture.
Raaz’s lips curved. “Aanya… meet Mikhail.”
Mikhail’s eyes swept over me, not in the way most men looked, but as though he was cataloging details — measuring me. It made my skin prickle. “So this is the infamous jaan,” he said, his voice deep, accented faintly in a way I couldn’t place.
I didn’t know how to respond, so I gave a small nod. “Hello.”
Raaz’s hand rested on my back — light, but a silent claim. “We’ll be in the study.”
They left together, the heavy door clicking shut behind them. I stood for a moment in the hallway, torn between wanting to stay away and wanting to know what they were discussing.
Inside the study — Raaz’s POV
“She doesn’t know yet?” Mikhail asked, settling into one of the leather chairs.
Raaz poured himself a drink. “She doesn’t need to. What she needs is to be safe.”
“And Kartik?”
Raaz’s jaw tightened. “I have him in the warehouse.”
Mikhail’s eyes sharpened. “Alive?”
“For now.”
A slow, almost cruel smile tugged at Mikhail’s lips. “I’ll come tonight. I wouldn’t want to miss the fun.”
Raaz set his glass down with a soft thud. “This isn’t fun. This is personal.”
“That’s exactly why you’re dangerous right now,” Mikhail replied, his gaze steady. “Because you’ve never had a weakness before. Now you do.”
Raaz didn’t flinch. “Call it a weakness if you want. I call it a reason to kill faster.”
Mikhail chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Be careful. Men with something to lose tend to lose everything.”
Raaz leaned forward, his voice low and certain. “When you fall in love, you’ll understand.”
“Love?” Mikhail scoffed. “I’m not built for it. I don’t believe in it.”
Raaz’s mouth curved in something between a smirk and a warning. “Never say never.”
They stayed in there for another twenty minutes. I didn’t catch all the words, but I heard enough — Kartik’s name, the mention of tonight, and something in Raaz’s tone that made my pulse race for reasons I didn’t want to admit.
When they emerged, Raaz’s hand immediately found the small of my back again. “Jaan, Mikhail will be joining us for dinner tonight,” he said casually, but his touch told me it wasn’t a request for my opinion.
I nodded, because saying anything else would have been pointless.
But in the back of my mind, the pieces were shifting. Tonight. Warehouse. Kartik.
And if Raaz thought I was going to sleep peacefully through whatever he was planning… he didn’t know me as well as he thought he did.
Aanya’s POV
Dinner was quiet. Too quiet.
Mikhail had already left before the table was even cleared, claiming he had “business to take care of.” Raaz barely spoke a word after that, his gaze fixed on some point in the distance, his jaw working like he was chewing on more than just food.
I watched him from across the table, my fork untouched beside my plate. Milo sat obediently by my feet, occasionally nudging my ankle like he knew my mind was far from the roasted vegetables in front of me.
Raaz finally looked up, catching me staring. His eyes softened for just a moment — then the mask came back down. “Not hungry?”
I shook my head. “I… I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly. “But I’ll let you keep your secrets, jaan. For now.”
That was the thing about Raaz — he always sounded like he knew more than I wanted him to.
After dinner, I excused myself and went to our room, pretending I was tired. In truth, my thoughts were tangled in the pieces I’d picked up earlier in the day. Mikhail’s voice. The word “warehouse.” Kartik’s name. The way Raaz’s tone had changed when they’d spoken about him.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the silk hem of my maxi dress pooled around my feet, my hands knotted together in my lap. Milo jumped up beside me, resting his head on my thigh, and I stroked his fur absently, trying to drown out the pounding in my chest.
But then…
I heard it.
The low murmur of voices. Footsteps. The faint creak of the main door opening downstairs.
Something inside me pulled tight.
I rose from the bed and crossed the room quietly, my bare feet making no sound against the carpet. I eased the door open and peeked into the dimly lit hallway. There was no one in sight, but I could hear him — Raaz — speaking to someone in a tone that was sharper than steel.
I followed the sound to the top of the stairs. From there, I could see him near the entrance, flanked by two of his men. He was dressed in black from head to toe, his stance coiled and ready. Mikhail’s earlier visit now made sense.
They were leaving.
For Kartik.
My grip on the banister tightened, my knuckles whitening. The realization hit like ice water — Raaz was going to do something tonight. Something that might change everything.
I didn’t know what possessed me, but before I could stop myself, I descended the stairs.
He noticed me immediately. His head snapped up, his eyes catching the low light and glinting like a predator’s.
“Aanya,” he said slowly, almost like a warning. “Go back upstairs.”
“No.” The word came out before I could think.
His brows drew together. “No?”
“I know you’re going after him.” My voice trembled, but I didn’t back down. “Kartik. You’re going to do something tonight.”
The men by the door glanced between us, uneasy.
Raaz dismissed them with a flick of his hand. They left, though I could feel their eyes still on me until the door shut behind them.
He stepped forward, his presence filling the space like a stormcloud. “You shouldn’t worry about things that don’t concern you, jaan.”
“How does it not concern me?” I demanded. “It’s about me, isn’t it? He threatened you — using me. And instead of talking to me, you’re sneaking off in the middle of the night like—”
“Like what?” he cut in, his voice low, dangerous.
“Like you don’t trust me enough to tell me anything!” My voice cracked. “How am I supposed to trust you if you hide everything from me?”
He stilled. For a long, unbearable moment, the only sound was my own quick breathing.
When he finally spoke, his tone was colder, steadier. “I hide things from you because the world I live in is poison. If you knew every detail, every name, every blade hidden in the dark, you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. And I can’t have that.”
I shook my head, my throat tightening. “Raaz, I don’t want your protection if it means living like this — not knowing, not having a say in my own life—”
He crossed the space between us in two strides, his hands finding my waist, pulling me flush against him. My breath caught at the sudden closeness, at the heat rolling off him in waves.
“You think you don’t have a say?” His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor me in place. “You think I’ll ever let anyone or anything touch you? No, jaan. That’s not happening. Not while I’m breathing.”
His eyes burned into mine, unblinking. “I will do anything to keep you safe. Anything. You understand?”
My lips trembled, but I managed to whisper, “Even if it means killing?”
His answer was immediate. “Especially if it means killing.”
I swallowed hard, because there was no hesitation in his tone. No softness. Only certainty.
He leaned down, his forehead brushing mine, his breath warm against my lips. “No one can stop me when it comes to you. Not Kartik. Not Mikhail. Not even you, jaan.”
My chest ached with something I couldn’t name — fear, anger, maybe even something far more dangerous.
He pulled back just enough to study my face, his gaze tracing every flicker of emotion I couldn’t hide. Then, softer, almost tender: “Go back to bed. When you wake up, this will all be over.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream. But something in his eyes told me it would be useless.
So I stood there, heart racing, as he kissed my forehead — not gently, but like a promise etched into skin — and then turned to leave.
The heavy door closed behind him, and the silence that followed felt like it could swallow me whole.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of Kartik… or of the man who had just sworn to protect me at any cost.