INT. YUVAAN'S SUITE - NIGHT
The last of the women slipped out of Yuvaan's suite, their laughter fading down the hallway. Yuvaan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights painting his bare torso in shades of gold and shadow. He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar hum of power coursing through his veins.
The passion of beauties truly is the purest energy, he thought, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. So freely given, so easily consumed. Each touch, each sigh, each moment of ecstasy - they all feed the darkness within me.
His phone lit up with a notification. He picked it up, his smirk fading as he stared at the screen - a photo of Kiara, her eyes sparkling with laughter, completely unaware of his gaze.
Others fall so easily. They swoon at a glance, beg for a touch, lose all reason in my presence. It's the natural order. His thumb traced the curve of her smile in the photograph. So why do you resist? Why build these walls around yourself when others would kill to be in your place?
The question hung in the perfumed air, not born of wounded pride but of strategic calculation. She was proving to be a variable that refused to conform to his usual methods.
No matter, he thought, his expression hardening with determination. Walls are meant to be broken. And I am the master of demolition. Soon, Kiara Shetty, soon I will break through to that heart of yours. And when I do, you'll be mine to command.
INT. SHETTY BASEMENT - NIGHT
The single oil lamp cast long, dancing shadows across the ancient tomes that lined the stone walls. Vikram paced before the heavy wooden table, his face grave.
Varun looked up from sharpening his silver-tipped arrows. "What's troubling you, Father? You've been restless since you returned from college."
Vikram stopped his pacing and turned to his son. "There's something I've been pondering about today's incident," he began, his voice low and measured.
Varun set down his arrow. "The attack on Kiara? You said Yuvaan saved her."
"That's just it," Vikram said, his eyes narrowing. "Today, before I could even reach Kiara, this new student - Yuvaan Pratap Singh - he got to her first. He pulled her away from danger."
"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Varun said, relief evident in his voice. "We should be thanking him for saving Di."
"Should we?" Vikram's voice dropped to a whisper. "That's what troubles me, beta. How did he know? How did he know there was a danger to pull her away from?"
The question hung heavily in the silence between them. Varun's expression shifted from relief to concern as he processed his father's words.
"I felt the dark magic because I'm trained to sense it," Vikram continued, leaning forward intently. "I have decades of experience hunting these creatures. But him? He's a stranger, a wealthy transfer student according to his file. So I'm left wondering..." He paused, letting the implication sink in. "How did he see the invisible? How did he know to act at the exact moment an unseen trap was about to be sprung?"
Varun's eyes widened as he understood the implication. The person who had saved his sister was now their prime suspect.
The engine of Angad's sports car purred softly as he navigated the city streets, the neon signs painting his face in streaks of blue and red. He sighed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
"Yuvaan Bhaiya just left without me," he murmured to himself, a slight frown on his face. "So much for sticking together. Well, at least he didn't take the car. I'd have been stranded."
As he approached a dimly lit intersection, a figure suddenly darted across the road. Angad slammed the brakes, his car screeching to a halt just inches from a young woman who stumbled and fell to the ground.
"Oh my god! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" he exclaimed, scrambling out of the car.
He rushed to her side, his heart pounding. "Are you okay? I didn't see you—"
His words trailed off as he helped her up, and the streetlight illuminated her face. It was her—the same girl he had bumped into in the college corridor earlier. The one Yuvaan Bhaiya had explicitly warned him about.
"You..." Angad stammered, his mind racing.
The girl brushed dust off her clothes, her eyes wide with shock. "Do you know me?"
Then Angad's charm quickly took over. "Remember the handsome boy who bumped into you in the college corridor?"
A slow smile spread across her face. "Oh, it's you! I remember."
Angad grinned, leaning against his car. "It seems fate keeps making us bump into each other. So, why don't we get properly acquainted?" He extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Angad Pratap Singh."
The girl hesitated for a moment, then accepted his hand. Her grip was firm, her skin cool against his. "I'm Mishka Bajwa."
"Nice to meet you, Mishka," Angad said, their eyes locking for a heartbeat too long. The city noise seemed to fade around them.
He cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "You seem to be heading home."
Mishka nodded, glancing around the empty street. "Yes, I've been waiting for a cab but I can't find any."
Angad's smile widened. "Well, your personal cab has arrived."
Mishka raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Can I drop you off?" he asked, his tone sincere.
She hesitated, biting her lip. "I don't know..."
"Come on," Angad said, his voice softening. "It's the least I can do after almost running you over. And besides, what are the chances we'd meet again like this? It has to mean something."
Mishka finally nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Okay. Thank you."
She slid into the passenger seat of his car, and Angad closed the door behind her, a triumphant grin on his face. He had no idea that the girl he was so eager to impress was the very danger his cousin had warned him about.