The streets of Nithya's city were quiet in the late afternoon, but the air vibrated with tension. A convoy of five black SUVs and ten motorcycles moved like a shadow over the road. Aryan sat in the middle car, hands folded on his lap, eyes sharp and unreadable. Four SUVs in front, four behind, ten motorcycles flanking every side—every detail perfect. This was his world. This was control. This was Eagle.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. Every driver and biker instinctively knew his commands. Every movement was synchronized, flawless, and deadly.
Aryan's gaze was fixed on a girl walking near the college gate. Nithya. Calm, composed, unaware of the storm approaching. She glanced at the convoy briefly, lips curving into a faint, teasing smile.
Aryan's jaw tightened. That smile was dangerous. It intrigued him and infuriated him at the same time. He stepped out of the middle car. Tall, imposing, black suit sharp, hair perfectly in place. Guards flanked him silently, a living wall of intimidation.
"Good afternoon, Nithya," Aryan said, voice low and controlled, yet carrying authority that made everyone else freeze.
Nithya tilted her head, eyes steady. "Good afternoon, Mr. Deshmukh," she said softly, polite, but teasing.
Aryan's chest tightened. Calm. Confident. Fearless. She didn't fear him. And that was exactly why he wanted her even more.
"You are dangerous," she said lightly.
"And you are tempting," he replied, stepping closer. "You belong to me whether you like it or not."
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "You think it's that easy?"
"No," he said, coldly, eyes locked on hers. "Nothing about me is easy."
A soft wind moved through the street. Students passed by, but no one dared approach. The convoy formed a silent barrier, a warning. Aryan's presence alone made everything else fade into insignificance.
Nithya's eyes sparkled with challenge. "And yet… you are so sure of yourself."
"I don't need to be sure. I act," Aryan said. His voice was like steel. "And I always get what I want."
She tilted her chin, testing him. "And if I resist?"
Aryan's gaze darkened. "Then I will take the time to make you want it."
She said nothing. That tiny pause, the way she held his stare, made Aryan's obsession flare. She was a storm he had never encountered—a girl who was fearless, calm, teasing, and impossible to ignore.
The conversation ended without a word. Aryan returned to the convoy. Engines hummed softly, motorcycles flanked the sides, four SUVs ahead, four behind. Not a single person dared interfere. Every movement of the convoy was precise, deadly, perfect.
As the convoy left the area, Aryan's mind raced. Nithya was no ordinary girl. Calm, teasing, intelligent—she did not know the man behind the empire, but she had already captured his focus.
By night, Aryan returned to his massive mansion in Seoul. Lights reflected across the polished marble floors. Guards moved silently like shadows. Cameras recorded everything. The mansion was silent, except for Aryan's footsteps echoing through the halls.
He poured a glass of water and stood at the balcony. Seoul's city lights stretched endlessly below. In his fortress of power, wealth, and fear, one thought consumed him:
"She won't escape me. Not her. Not ever."
Eagle's obsession had grown from curiosity to hunger. Calm, measured, ruthless—Aryan planned carefully. He would not let anyone, not even Nithya, interfere with what he wanted.
And soon, the game would begin in earnest.