Possession in Ruin

Possession in Ruin
Siara sat at the restaurant table, her fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass as she forced herself to focus on the man sitting across from her.

The client was speaking—something about the details of the merger, about stock values and projected profits—but his words felt distant, blurred beneath the deafening thoughts raging in her mind.

Ekansh.

His name was an echo, a lingering ghost haunting every corner of her mind.

She had ignored his calls. Each time her phone had buzzed, her fingers had twitched toward it, some irrational part of her desperate to hear his voice.

But she hadn’t answered.

She couldn’t.

Because if she did, she wasn’t sure what she would say.

Or worse—what he would.

Siara took a slow sip of her drink, the bitterness burning against her throat, grounding her back to reality. She refused to let this—let him—affect her work.

She had built her name from the ground up with blood, sweat, and sleepless nights. She had fought her way to the top in an industry dominated by men who underestimated her at every turn.

She would not let Ekansh Vardhan be the one to break her focus.

So, she straightened her shoulders, plastered on a practiced smile, and nodded at the client. “That sounds reasonable. However, if we’re discussing long-term partnerships, I will need a more detailed report on your supply chain. Transparency is non-negotiable.”

The client smiled, seemingly pleased with her response, and the conversation shifted back to business. Smooth and formal.

But only on the surface.

Siara forced herself to engage, to push aside the gnawing thoughts that threatened to consume her.

For the next hour, she was composed, sharp, and unreadable—just as she had trained herself to be.

But beneath the surface, she was crumbling.

–––––––––––

Ekansh paced across his office, his jaw tight, his patience unraveling with each passing second.

She still wasn’t answering.

His fingers curled into a fist at his side, a storm brewing in his chest.

She had never ignored him like this before.

Even when they were on opposite sides of negotiations, even when she was furious with him, she had always answered.

But now?

Now, she was shutting him out completely.

His mind raced with possibilities, with the unknown.

What was she thinking? What was she feeling?

Had she already painted him as the villain in her mind? Locked herself inside her own version of the story where he was the monster, the liar, the deceiver?

His stomach twisted at the thought.

He needed to see her.

Without hesitation, he pulled out another phone and dialed.

Kabir, his assistant, answered on the first ring.

“Find her,” Ekansh ordered, his voice clipped.

Kabir didn’t hesitate, as if he was already anticipating it and so he already had an answer ready. “She’s at a restaurant, likely for a meeting.”

Ekansh didn’t wait for anything else. He grabbed his keys and left.

If she thought she could get away with this, by ignoring him, he was gonna show her how damn wrong she was.

–––––––

Siara exhaled softly as she stepped out of the restaurant, the meeting having gone as well as it could under the circumstances.

She had done what she needed to.

She had smiled, negotiated, sealed the deal.

She had functioned.

And yet, as the cool evening air hit her skin, she felt the weight settle over her again.

Like a storm that had been momentarily calmed but never truly gone.

She pulled out her phone, her eyes flickering over the missed calls.

Her thumb hovered over his name for half a second—just half a second—before she locked the screen and shoved it back into her purse.

She turned to leave.

And that was when she felt it.

A presence.

Familiar. Overwhelming.

Before she could react, a voice cut through the air.

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

She stopped.

Her breath hitched for just a fraction of a second before she turned around, meeting his gaze.

Ekansh stood a few feet away, his posture deceptively calm, but his eyes—his eyes—

They burned.

She met his gaze, her expression unreadable.

“I was busy,” she said smoothly.

Not irritated. Not frustrated. Not amused or playful like she always was with him.

Just cold.

Something flickered in his gaze.

A flash of something raw.

Siara turned away, ready to walk past him.

But before she could, his fingers wrapped around her wrist, firm but not forceful, pulling her just close enough for her to feel the heat of his body.

Her pulse stuttered, but she didn’t let it show.

“You found out, didn’t you?” His voice was deep, unshaken, unwavering.

Siara inhaled sharply.

“Let me go, Mr. Vardhan.”

His jaw clenched. “Or what? You’ll slap me again like you did the first time?”

She let out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head.

“Oh,” she whispered, her voice heavy with something he couldn’t quite place. “I should have known.”

His fingers tightened slightly on her wrist. “Siara—”

“All your concern,” she interrupted, “all your care… it was a lie, wasn’t it?”

His chest tightened.

“For what?” she continued, her voice laced with something close to heartbreak. “For some stupid revenge of yours?”

His breath left him in a sharp exhale.

“Tell me, Mr. Vardhan,” she spat his name like venom, “weren’t my apologies enough to satisfy your ego?”

Ekansh’s control snapped.

“No, Siara!” His voice was raw, unfiltered. “This has nothing to do with that damn slap!”

“Then deny it!” she demanded, her voice trembling, her eyes burning into his. “Tell me you’re not associated with the Black Serpents.”

Silence.

A silence that cut deeper than any answer could.

She let out a slow, shaking breath.

“For God’s sake,” he muttered, his voice rough, desperate. “Stop speaking so formally. Stop calling me Mr. Vardhan.”

“Why?” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “Why should I call you something else? Have we ever shared something that makes you deserve that?”

Ekansh flinched.

Her voice cracked as she continued, “What was I to you, Ekansh? Just some pawn in your game?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

She let out a broken laugh. “You know… I began to trust you.”

Ekansh stiffened.

“Despite knowing we were rivals. Despite knowing everything. I thought… I thought I saw something in you. I really believed you and maybe I—”

She stopped herself.

She would not say it.

She swallowed hard, blinking against the tears threatening to spill.

“But none of that matters anymore,” she whispered, her voice turning ice-cold. “You’re nothing less than a monster. A murderer.”

Ekansh inhaled sharply, his hands twitching at his sides. “Siara, I—”

“The more I learned about the Black Serpents,” she said, her voice shaking, “the more I started to hate every person associated with them.”

She exhaled sharply.

“But you know what’s worse?” Her voice broke, the dam finally cracking, spilling everything she had tried to hold back. “I can’t even bring myself to properly hate you.”

Ekansh felt like something inside him was shattering.

Siara blinked rapidly, trying to hold back her tears.

He had never seen her like this.

Never seen her so broken.

“I should have known,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I should have never let my guard down.”

She was pulling away.

He could feel it.

Not just physically, but in a way that was far worse.

In a way that told him that if he let her walk away now, he might never get another chance.

His fingers twitched against her wrist.

“Siara,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice rough, unsteady. “I—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, her voice trembling but resolute.

For the first time since he met her, he was the one at a loss for words.

For the first time, he didn’t know how to fix this.

Siara exhaled, taking a step back. Then another.

She was going to leave.

She was going to walk away, and he—

He wasn’t ready for that.

His hand shot out on instinct, grabbing her wrist again, firmer this time.

Her breath hitched as she snapped her gaze up to him.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said, his voice rough, unwavering.

Siara’s eyes burned with something fierce, something desperate. “You don’t get to hold on to me now, Ekansh.”

His jaw ticked.

“Watch me,” he muttered.

Before he could say anything more—before he could fix this, wipe her tears—

She pushed him away.

And then—

A gunshot rang in the air.

And in that moment, as the gunshot echoed through the night, Ekansh knew.

His feelings—twisted, raw, and chaotic—were no longer uncertain.

Siara was his.

And God help whoever tried to take her from him.