The terrorist leader barked orders, his voice sharp and commanding. "First—take him down! Then… the girl!"
Yuvaan's lips curved into a devilish smirk. "Ah… about to get wild, wifey," he murmured, glancing at Kiara. She returned a small, nervous smile, gripping the edge of a counter as adrenaline surged through her veins.
The first terrorist raised his gun and fired. The bullet streaked toward Yuvaan.
Kiara gasped.
Yuvaan staggered, clutching his chest, letting his body fall backward as if struck. "Ah! You shot me!" he groaned theatrically.
Kiara's hands flew to her mouth, panic flooding her. "Yuvaan!"
Then laughter erupted—harsh, mocking—from the terrorists.
And then Yuvaan laughed too.
In one fluid motion, he lifted his hand, revealing the bullet resting harmlessly in his palm. "Really? Is that all you've got?" he teased, his crimson eyes flashing with amusement as he mocked their shock.
The hostages froze, disbelief painted across their faces. Kiara exhaled shakily, her tension easing as relief flooded her chest.
Yuvaan stepped closer, smirking at the terrified leader. "Please… don't be boring. Make this worthwhile."
The leader's anger boiled over, and he and his gang opened fire relentlessly. Bullets tore through the air, aiming straight for Yuvaan. But as they approached, they slowed, halted midair—suspended, trembling ominously just before reaching him.
A chill swept through the room. The terrorists' confident sneers faltered, their hands trembling. Confusion spread across the hostages' faces as they watched the impossible.
Yuvaan's grin widened. Calm, unshakable, dangerous—he stood as if the chaos was his playground, his presence alone bending the rules of fear.
The leader's voice cracked. "W-what… how—?"
Yuvaan tilted his head, eyes flicking toward Kiara. "Relax, wifey… just a bit of fun."
The tension in the mall escalated. Fear, awe, and disbelief danced across every face—but one thing was clear: Yuvaan was in control, and the game had only just begun.
The terrorist leader barked orders, his voice sharp and commanding. "Take him down first… the man! Then the girl!"
Yuvaan's dark eyes gleamed, and he tilted his head slightly, a smirk forming on his lips. "Oh… this is about to get wild, wifey."
Kiara's lips curled into a nervous but amused smile.
The first terrorist raised his rifle and fired. The bullet screamed through the air—and Yuvaan clutched his chest dramatically, staggering backward as if hit.
"Yuvaan!" Kiara gasped, horror and panic flooding her voice.
The terrorists burst into victorious laughter, thinking their shot had found its mark.
Then Yuvaan's laughter rang out—deep, mocking, and perfectly timed. He raised his hand, revealing the bullet, unscathed. "Oh, please…" he purred, his crimson eyes glinting faintly as he mocked them. "Don't be boring. Make this worthwhile."
The hostages and terrorists froze, stunned by his audacity. Kiara's heart thudded wildly, relief washing over her in a wave.
Before the group could recover, the leader and his men opened fire again, a hailstorm of bullets aimed straight at Yuvaan.
Time seemed to slow. Each bullet stopped midair, hovering mere inches from him, as if frozen by some unseen force.
The terrorists froze, eyes wide, voices caught in their throats. They fired relentlessly, but every shot halted midair until finally, the last bullet clinked harmlessly to the floor.
Confusion and fear rippled through the gang. Yuvaan's smirk widened, his hands brushing casually through his hair. "Really…" he murmured, voice low and teasing. "You're going to have to try harder than that."
Kiara, standing just behind him, exhaled shakily. The combination of fear and admiration made her pulse race—this was the man she had married, terrifying and breathtaking all at once.
With a flicker of his wrist, every gun, grenade, and weapon in the terrorists' hands froze midair, suspended as if caught by invisible threads. Shock and panic rippled across their faces.
"Who… who is he?" one stammered, voice trembling.
Before anyone could react further, Yuvaan blurred across the room in an almost imperceptible motion. He leaned close to the gang leader's ear, his voice a cold, intoxicating whisper.
"Devil."
And just as suddenly, he was back in his original spot, standing with that villainous swagger, as if he had never moved.
With a slow, deliberate snap of his fingers, all the suspended weapons crumbled into dust, scattering harmlessly across the floor. The terrorists stared, pale and frozen, utterly disarmed—and utterly terrified.
Kiara's eyes widened, both fear and awe mingling as she realized the full extent of her husband's power. Yuvaan's grin deepened, crimson eyes glinting just slightly, a silent warning that anyone daring to threaten his wifey would meet far worse than dust.
The mall had fallen into an eerie, electrifying silence—broken only by the distant echo of media cameras and the shallow breaths of terrified hostages.
And in that moment, one truth became unmistakable: the Devil had arrived, and the game was over before it had even begun.