The city's skyline was a distant, glittering crown, but here, in the open fountain field, there was a pocket of unexpected quiet. Yuvaan had pulled over, the need for a moment of stillness outweighing the urgency of his plans. He got out, leaving Kiara asleep in the climate-controlled comfort of the car, and hoisted himself onto its hood.
The cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat of the club and the thrill of the confrontation. He lay back, his hands behind his head, and stared up at the few stars brave enough to shine through the urban glow. For a moment, the weight of his legacy, the dark heart, the constant performance—it all receded, leaving just a young man under a vast, indifferent sky.
But the peace was fragile.
A presence, cold and familiar, prickled at the edges of his awareness. It was a sliver of pure darkness, an ancient malice that did not belong to him. His body went rigid. In one fluid motion, he sat upright, his eyes, now sharp and predatory, scanning the perimeter.
His gaze locked onto a dense cluster of bushes near the fountain. From within the shadows, two points of malevolent red light glowed back at him. They held no curiosity, only a deep, observing hunger.
Yuvaan's initial tension melted away, replaced by a slow, knowing smirk.
"Seems I'm not the only player on the board tonight," he murmured to the night air, his voice laced with dark amusement.
As if his words were a dismissal, the red eyes blinked once and vanished, the oppressive presence receding with them. The field was quiet again, but the message was received. The Daayans were watching. They knew about Kiara. The hunt for Jishwa was converging.
He slid off the hood, the moment of respite over. Peering through the car window at the sleeping Kiara, a calculated look settled on his face. "The sedative in that spiked wine was quite potent," he noted. "It will be tomorrow morning before this sleeping beauty wakes up."
---
At the Shetty mansion, a different kind of quiet prevailed. Vikram, his mind racing with the warnings of the Watchers, climbed the stairs to check on his children. He pushed Kiara's door open gently.
In the dim nightlight, he saw the familiar shape of his daughter curled under the blankets, a mess of hair just visible on the pillow. A sigh of relief escaped him. She was home. She was safe. He quietly closed the door, his paternal worry soothed.
He never noticed that the shape was a little too still, a little too perfectly arranged. He never noticed the pillows strategically placed beneath the duvet, a decoy left by a daughter who had mastered the art of sneaking out. The deception was complete. In Vikram's mind, his daughter was safely asleep in her bed, while in reality, she was the unconscious, coveted prize of the very storm he had been warned about.
---
The first thing Kiara registered was the familiar warmth of the morning sun on her eyelids. A slow, contented smile spread across her face as she stretched, expecting to feel the soft silk of her own bedsheets. Her eyes fluttered open, ready to greet her reflection in her vanity mirror.
Instead, she was met with the sleek, grey interior of a car's roof.
Her smile vanished. She sat bolt upright, her heart leaping into her throat. This was not her room. This was... a car.
"Holly molly! What the fudge!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with panic.
She scrambled for the door handle, yanking at it frantically. Locked. Her breath hitched, the beginnings of real fear clawing at her.
---
Outside, shrouded in the thick morning mist, Yuvaan stood perfectly still. A low, guttural growl had reached his ears moments before, a sound that didn't belong to the waking city. His attention was fixed on the periphery, his body tense, ready for a threat. He didn't notice the girl inside his car had woken up.
The sudden roar of the engine was like a gunshot in the silence. The car lurched forward directly toward him. With reflexes that were anything but human, Yuvaan's hand shot out, palm flat, meeting the grille of his own car. The vehicle stopped dead, as if it had hit a concrete wall, the engine stalling with a pathetic whine.
Inside, Kiara was thrown forward against her seatbelt, gasping. What just happened? Did she hit something?
Just then, the mist parted, swirling away as if on command.
And there he was.
Standing directly in front of the car, his palm still resting on the hood, was the most breathtakingly handsome man she had ever seen. His dark eyes, intense and unreadable, were locked directly on hers through the windshield. Her breath caught in her throat for an entirely different reason now—a mix of terror, confusion, and an undeniable, primal pull.
The click of the central unlocking mechanism broke the spell.
Hesitantly, Kiara pushed the door open and stepped out, her legs wobbly. "Who... who are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "Why did you lock me in your car?"
Yuvaan slowly lowered his hand, his expression shifting from intense observation to one of mild, offended amusement. "Are you mad?" he asked, his tone dangerously calm. "You almost ran me over."
"To save you, of course," he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"To save me from what?" Kiara shot back, crossing her arms over her chest, a defensive gesture.
Yuvaan sighed, a look of patronizing concern crossing his features. "It seems you suffered a blackout. Or perhaps memory loss. Did you forget what happened last night?"
Fragments of memory slammed into her: the club, the spiked drink, the boy's leering face, his hands on her, running, biting, stumbling...
"Those... rascals," she whispered, the color draining from her face.
"Yes. Those rascals," Yuvaan confirmed, his voice softening slightly, playing the part of the weary savior perfectly. "I saved you from them."
A sliver of suspicion, sharp and clear, pierced through her confusion. She narrowed her eyes. "Really? Or were you in this together with them?"
Yuvaan's jaw dropped in a perfect display of affronted dignity. He placed a hand over his heart, as if wounded. "Excuse me?"