That flicker in his eyes lasted all of two seconds before it vanished beneath a darker, colder glare.
Without a word, Abhimanyu closed the distance between them in two strides. His hand clamped around her arm — not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make resistance useless.
"Abhi—!" she started, but he was already hauling her toward a car. The startled pedestrians melted out of the way as if they could feel the heat radiating off him.
The air hit her face, but it didn't calm the burning in her chest.
"Let me go!" she snapped, digging her heels into the pavement.
He didn't slow. In one fluid motion, he wrenched open the back door of the sleek black car waiting at the curb. Then, with a sharp push to her shoulder, he forced her to sit inside.
The door slammed shut behind her with a metallic finality, cutting her off from the noise outside. Through the tinted glass, she saw him giving curt orders to the guards — one group heading off with Suryaveer, another with Rizwan.
When he slid in beside her, the car felt far too small for the rage coiled in his frame.
"You've crossed a line, Meera," he said, voice dangerously calm, as the driver pulled away.
The leather seat was cool beneath her palms, but Meera's skin felt hot, flushed with anger.
"You had no right," she shot out, twisting toward him. "Not to Suryaveer, and definitely not to Rizwan!"
Abhimanyu didn't even look at her at first. His gaze was locked on the road ahead, jaw flexing, hands clasped so tightly in his lap that the tendons stood out sharp beneath his skin.
"Do you even know who you were talking to?" His voice was low, deliberate, the kind that made her pulse jump. "Do you have any idea what he's done?"
"What he's done?!" she snapped back. "You act like you hold the truth in your hands, Abhimanyu, but all I see is you locking people away—"
He turned his head then, the intensity in his eyes making her throat tighten for a moment.
"I do hold the truth, Meera. And it's the only thing keeping you alive right now."
"By kidnapping the only people I trust?" she fired back. "By dragging me away like—"
The words cut off when he suddenly leaned forward, bracing one hand on the seat beside her, his face close enough that she could see the faint stubble along his jaw.
"You think trust is going to save you?" he hissed. "It's going to get you killed."
The car jerked slightly as it turned into the palace gates, but neither of them looked away.
"Let me go," she said, voice shaking—not from fear, but from the force she was using to keep herself from screaming.
"Not tonight," he said simply, sitting back just as the car rolled to a stop.
The door was opened from the outside by a female guard.
"Take her to my chambers," Abhimanyu ordered.
Meera stiffened. "I'm not being locked away."
He didn't reply—just stepped out, rounded to her side, and with a swift, unyielding grip, pulled her out of the car and steered her toward the palace.
Her heels clicked sharply against the marble as he dragged her through the long corridor. The female guards followed like shadows, their presence a silent reminder that resistance here was useless—or at least, that's what Abhimanyu seemed to believe.
The heavy double doors to his chambers swung open, and he all but propelled her inside. She stumbled a step before catching herself, spinning on him.
"You can't keep me here," she said, breathing hard. "I'm not your prisoner, Abhimanyu."
"You're my wife," he shot back, striding past her to the inner door that led to the balcony, snapping it shut as though the air itself outside might conspire to help her escape. "And I will not have you running into the arms of men who've spent their lives trying to destroy mine."
"Suryaveer isn't—"
"I don't care what you think he is." His tone sharpened, cutting her off.
Her hands balled into fists. "Then hear this—" she stepped toward him, voice trembling with fury, "—I will get them out. Both of them. I don't care what it takes, I don't care how long it takes—"
Something flickered in his eyes, a cold finality.
"You won't," he said quietly. And before she could answer, he stepped back toward the door, gesturing to the guards outside.
The click of the lock echoed in the vast room like a verdict.
She froze, staring at the now-closed door, the sound of his retreating footsteps growing fainter.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, anger and helplessness crashing over her in equal measure. She moved to the door, testing the handle. Locked.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. "Abhimanyu!" she shouted after him, voice ricocheting off the high walls. "You can't keep me here!"
Silence answered her.
The second the lock clicked, her fury detonated.
"ABHIMANYU!" Her voice ripped through the air, raw and unrestrained.
She slammed her fists against the solid wood, each blow making the hinges shudder. "OPEN THIS DOOR!"
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The sound echoed down the hallway, her voice rising into a full-throated scream that was less words and more primal rage. She didn't care if the whole palace heard—she wanted them to hear.
"You think you can keep me here?!" Her palm struck the door again, harder. "You have no right!"
The female guards outside shifted uneasily, exchanging glances. One bit her lip, as though debating whether to intervene. Another's grip tightened on her spear, more for her own steadiness than any real threat inside.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
"LET ME OUT!"
Her voice cracked, but it only made her slam harder, the skin of her palms stinging.
The older of the guards finally leaned closer to the other and whispered, "If she keeps going like this, the Maharaj will hear."
The younger one's eyes darted toward the end of the hall where the men's quarters lay. "He already has," she murmured, tension in her tone.
Inside, Meera drew back, chest heaving, and hit the door again, each strike fueled not just by rage, but by the sharp, unbearable fear that she might never see Suryaveer or Rizwan again.
The last slam echoed when heavy, purposeful footsteps sounded from the hall.
The guards froze.
Abhimanyu appeared, shadow cutting into the light, his face carved in rage. "Open it," he said, voice like ice.
The older guard fumbled with the latch, and the door swung open.
Meera was standing there, chest heaving, hair disheveled, palms red. The instant she saw him, her glare burned hotter.
"You had no right—" she started, but her words were swallowed when he crossed the threshold in two strides.
"You think screaming will change anything?" His tone was low, dangerous, the kind that made even the guards avert their eyes. "You think you can defy me in public and walk away from it?"
"You took my people!" she shot back, voice cracking with fury. "Rizwan. Suryaveer. They're not criminals—"
"They are exactly what I say they are," he cut in, his temper flaring, the control in his posture hanging by a thread.
"Then you're no better than the tyrants you claim to hate!"
Something in him snapped. His fist came down hard on the carved pillar beside her—wood splintered under the blow, the sound making the guards flinch.
"Don't," he said, stepping closer, his breath hot with anger, "test how far I'll go to keep you where I can see you."
Meera didn't step back. "Then you'll have to lock me away forever," she hissed, "because the second you turn your back, I will get them out."
They stood there, breath for breath, eyes locked like a storm waiting to break—until Abhimanyu's jaw clenched, and he stepped back, slamming the door again, harder this time.
The latch clicked.
Her scream followed immediately.