When Heer woke, the world was black.

Not the soft, forgiving dark of a moonlit night. Not the muted shadows of a dimly lit corridor.

This darkness was absolute. Suffocating. A living thing that pressed against her skin, slithered into her lungs, made every breath taste like damp earth and old blood.

She lay still-assessing.

Cold stone beneath her fingertips. The faint, metallic tang of rust in the air. The distant echo of water dripping somewhere in the void.

Where was she?

Slowly, she pushed herself up, her muscles screaming in protest. The emerald saree was still draped around her, though the fabric was now wrinkled, the pallu slipping off one shoulder. Her bare feet met icy ground as she stood, her arms outstretched, blindly searching for a wall, a door, anything.

Silence.

Then-

A whisper of movement.

Something-someone-shifted in the dark.

Heer froze.

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

"Lost, little wife?"

The voice curled around her like smoke, low and mocking.

Aryaveer.

Before she could react, a hand clamped around her wrist, yanking her forward. She stumbled, her body colliding with a solid chest. The scent of sandalwood and gunpowder flooded her senses, unmistakable even in the void.

"You didn't think I'd let you sleep through the fun, did you?"

His breath was warm against her ear, his grip unrelenting.

Heer didn't struggle.

She couldn't.

Not when the ground beneath her seemed to tilt, her vision swimming with remnants of unconsciousness. Not when his fingers burned like brands against her skin, anchoring her in the abyss.

Aryaveer chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. "Good. You're learning."

Then, without warning, he bent and swept her off her feet.

---

Heer didn't make a sound as Aryaveer carried her through the darkness.

She didn't ask where they were going.

She didn't beg.

She simply waited.

The air grew colder, heavier, the scent of damp stone giving way to something sharper-antiseptic. Iron. Fear.

Then-light.

A single, flickering bulb buzzed to life overhead, its sickly yellow glow revealing a room straight out of nightmares.

The Torture Chamber.

Concrete walls, stained with old blood. A metal table, its surface scarred from blades and burns. Chains hung from the ceiling, their lengths ending in rusted cuffs. And in the corner-

A chair.

Not just any chair.

This one was made of polished oak, its arms fitted with leather restraints, its legs bolted to the floor.

Aryaveer set her down in front of it, his hands lingering on her shoulders, his breath a slow, deliberate tease against the back of her neck.

"Sit."

Heer didn't move.

"I said,"-his fingers dug into her skin-"sit."

This time, she obeyed.

The leather was cold against her bare arms as Aryaveer secured the restraints, his touch almost gentle in its precision. When he was done, he stepped back, his dark eyes raking over her with something akin to hunger.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Silence.

He circled her, his boots clicking against the concrete. "It's not because you fainted. It's not because you're weak."

A pause.

"It's because you're mine."

His hand fisted in her hair, wrenching her head back. "And I don't share what's mine."

Heer's breath hitched, her pulse jumping beneath her skin.

Aryaveer smirked. "Ah. There it is." He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "That little flicker of fear."

Then he straightened, reaching for something on the table-

A syringe.

The liquid inside glowed faintly in the dim light, its contents unknown, its purpose unthinkable.

Aryaveer tapped the needle, his smile widening as Heer's eyes finally, finally locked onto it.

"Let's see how long your silence lasts."

The syringe hovered over Heer's bare arm, the dim light catching on the silver tip. Aryaveer's fingers tightened around her wrist-not to steady her, but to feel the pulse beneath her skin.

"This will make you beg," he said, his voice low.

Heer didn't react.

Her arms lay limp against the restraints, her fingers relaxed. No trembling. No tension. Only the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest.

Aryaveer's gaze flicked up to her face.

And froze.

Her blue eyes clear as ice, depthless as a winter sky met his without flinching. A single tear rolled down her cheek, catching the light before slipping off her jaw.

But there was no fear.

No grimace. No clenched teeth.

Just... acceptance.

Something twisted in Aryaveer's chest. His hand wavered-just for a second.

Then his jaw hardened.

"You don't get to look at me like that," he snarled.

The needle plunged into her skin.

The serum hit like a blade dipped in acid.

Heer's back arched off the chair, her spine bowing under an invisible weight. Her lips parted but no sound came out. Only a sharp, silent gasp, her chest shuddering with the effort to contain it.

Aryaveer watched, his own breath oddly tight.

Her skin flushed, sweat glistening along her collarbones, her throat working as if swallowing screams. Yet her face...

Her face remained still.

No grimacing. No sobbing. Just those endless blue eyes, locked onto the ceiling, as if she were somewhere far away.

Another tear fell.

Then another.

But her expression never cracked.

Aryaveer's fingers twitched at his sides. "Say something," he demanded.

Nothing.

"Beg me to stop."

Silence.

"SCREAM!"

The roar echoed off the concrete walls.

Heer blinked-slow, deliberate-and turned her head toward him. Her lips moved, shaping a single, soundless word:

"No."

Aryaveer's vision tinted red.

He grabbed his phone, fingers stabbing at the screen. "Let's see how long that lasts."

The live feed activated.

Every screen in the underworld flickered to life-showing Heer's tear-streaked face, her heaving chest, her silent agony.

Aryaveer leaned down, his mouth brushing her ear. "They're all watching you break."

Heer closed her eyes.

The fire in her veins was too much.

Her body gave out-head lolling forward, limbs going slack against the restraints. Only the ragged rise of her chest proved she was still alive.

Aryaveer stared.

Then, with a curse, he ripped the restraints open and hauled her into his arms. Her weight was negligible, her skin fever-hot against his.

"Weak," he muttered-but his arms tightened.

He carried her to the chaise, settling her across his lap. One hand cradled the back of her neck, his thumb almost gentle-wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

"Open your eyes."

No response.

He shook her. "Look at me."

Her lashes fluttered. For a moment, her gaze swam, unfocused. Then those blue, blue eyes locked onto his empty. Exhausted.

Aryaveer's voice dropped to a whisper. "Why do you cry if you're not afraid?"

Heer's breath hitched.

"Tears..."Her voice was a frayed thread. "...don't always mean fear."

Aryaveer's grip tightened. "Then what do they mean?"

She didn't answer.

"TELL ME!"

Her body jerked in his arms, her eyes slipping shut again. But before unconsciousness took her, her lips parted

"You'll... never understand."

Then she was gone

__________________

Khanna Mension

The crack of leather splitting flesh echoed through the opulent bedroom like a gunshot.

"How dare you let her go?" Shubhas Khanna's voice was a venomous hiss as he raised the whip again, his knuckles white around its handle. His wife's blood dotted the Persian rug beneath them, each drop a dark, accusing stain.

Srisha Khanna trembled on her knees, her silk nightgown sticking to the raw stripes across her back. She clutched the bedpost for balance, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I... I didn't-

"YOU DID!"Another lash. This one caught her shoulder, splitting skin. Srisha choked back a scream, her nails gouging the carved mahogany.

Shubhas loomed over her, his tailored suit straining across his broad frame, his usually polished appearance unraveled into something feral. "You sent Heer straight into that monster's hands. Now you'll suffer for it."

His open palm connected with her cheekonce, twice the sharp snaps punctuating her whimpers. Srisha's face bloomed crimson, one eye already swelling shut. She crumpled forward, her hair a tangled curtain hiding her tears.

"Please, Shub," she gasped, her voice shredded. "If I hadn't sold Heer to the Raizadas, Aryaveer would've come for us next. I did this... to protect us."

A muscle twitched in Shubhas' jaw. For a heartbeat, the room held its breath.

Then-

"You stupid whore." He yanked her up by her hair, her scalp screaming in protest. "Do you have any idea what Heer was worth to me?"

Before she could answer, he hurled her across the bed. Srisha's ribs met the footboard with a sickening crack. She barely had time to register the pain before her husband's shadow swallowed her whole.

Her blood ran cold.

Shubhas unbuckled his belt with methodical precision, the leather slithering free like a snake. The clink of his zipper was obscenely loud in the heavy silence.

No.

Not this.

Srisha's throat closed. Twenty-five years of marriage. Twenty-five years of enduring his lessons. She knew what came next.

"You think I'm weak? I will show you how much of a man i am you pathetic women" Shubhas peeled off his shirt, his torso a landscape of old violence bullet scars, knife marks, the faded brand of a mafia legacy. "That you had to sell my niece to save your pathetic skin?"

He climbed onto the bed, his knees caging her hips. The mattress groaned beneath his weight.

"Tonight," he whispered, gripping her jaw hard enough to bruge bone, "I'll remind you exactly what kind of man you belong to."

His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her whimpers, her terror, her very breath. The taste of copper filled her mouth her split lip, his rage.

Somewhere, a clock ticked.

Somewhere, a woman disappeared.

And the khanna mension swallowed another scream.