Italy- Ayansh safehouse

The phone clattered against the marble floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks but the video still played.

Heer's tear-streaked face.

The tremble of her restrained wrists.

The way her body arched against unseen fire.

Ayansh Khanna stood rigid, his knuckles white, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts. The veins in his neck stood out like whipcord.

Behind him, the door creaked open.

"Ayansh?"

Mahira's voice was soft, hesitant. She stepped into the room, her silk robe whispering against her ankles, her dark eyes wide with concern. When he didn't respond, she moved closer then froze as she caught sight of the broken phone.

The video flickered.

A man's voice-Aryaveer's-hissed through the speakers: "They're all watching you break."

Mahira's breath hitched.

Without a word, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Ayansh from behind, pressing her cheek against his tense back.

"Look at me," she whispered.

He didn't move.

She tightened her hold. "Ayansh."

Slowly, his fingers unclenched. He turned, his face a mask of icy fury but the moment his eyes met hers, something fractured.

Mahira cupped his face, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones. "Breathe."

He exhaled sharply, his hands coming up to grip her wrists. "Pack your bags."

She blinked. "What?"

"We're leaving for India."

Silence.

"You're going back for her?" Mahira's voice cracked.

Ayansh's jaw tightened.

Mahira stepped back, her arms dropping to her sides. "I left everythingfor you," she whispered. "My home. My brother. And now-now you want to walk right back into his territory?"Her eyes welled. "The moment we land,veer bhai will take me back. You know that."

Ayansh reached for her, but she flinched away.

"I won't let him touch you," he said, his voice low, rough. "I swear it."

Mahira shook her head, tears spil down her cheeks. "You don't understand. You can't." She swiped at her face, her next words trembling with grief. "Do you even know what Heer did?"

Ayansh stilled.

"She killed my mother." Mahira's whisper was raw, broken. "When she was thirteen. I saw it, Ayansh. I saw her pull the trigger."

The air turned to lead.

Ayansh's expression didn't change but something dark flickered in his eyes.

Mahira searched his face, her voice barely audible. "After everything... you still want to save her?"

A beat of silence.

"I'm not going to save her."Ayansh's voice was lethally calm. "I'm going to wage war.

Mahira's breath caught.

Ayansh turned, picking up the shattered phone, his thumb brushing the cracked screen where Heer's unconscious form still lay in Aryaveer's arms.

"And this time," he murmured, "I won't stop until one of us is dead."

______________

AR Mension - Aryaveer's room.

The stylists worked in silence, their hands deft as they transformed Heer into a living doll.

Black satin gloves smoothed over her arms, hiding the bruises. A high-collared gown, dark as a funeral shroud, clung to her frame, the fabric heavy with embroidered thorns that coiled around her torso like chains. The maids pinned her hair back, twisting it into an elegant knot, leaving her neck exposed a deliberate choice.

In the mirror's reflection, Aryaveer leaned against the doorway, watching.

A smirk curled his lips.

"Perfect."

Heer's gloved fingers twitched against the vanity. "I don't want to go." Her voice was flat, lifeless.

Aryaveer pushed off the doorframe, his steps slow, predatory. The stylists scattered like leaves in a storm, leaving them alone.

"You don't have a choice."

His hand closed around the back of her neck, his grip just shy of painful. His breath ghosted over her ear as he leaned down, his reflection looming behind hers in the mirror.

"Your brother is coming for you."

Heer's pulse jumped beneath his finger the only betrayal of emotion.

Aryaveer's smirk widened. "Oh, you didn't know?" He tightened his hold. "Ayansh couldn't resist after seeing your little... performance."

Heer's eyes met his in the mirror. Blue. Empty.

Aryaveer's free hand slid down her arm, his fingers intertwining with hers, squeezing until the bones threatened to crack.

"I'll make him watch," he murmured,

"as I peel the skin from your fingers one strip at a time. The same fingers that pulled the trigger."

His thumb pressed into her palm, nails biting through the satin.

"This hand, wasn't it?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I saw my mother bleed out, begging for help. And you-you just stood there."

Heer's breath hitched, but her face remained a mask.

Aryaveer's lips brushed her temple. "Now you'll know how it feels."

A knock at the door shattered the moment.

"Sir."A guard's voice, tense. "He's here."

Aryaveer straightened, his grip lingering for a heartbeat longer before he released her.

"Time to greet your brother, jaan."

He strode out, leaving Heer staring at her reflection at the ghost of a girl who never smiled, never screamed, never broke.

Her gloved hand flexed.

Then, slowly, she reached up and adjusted a stray lock of hair.

Perfect.

___________

The grand staircase unfurled like a serpent's spine beneath Heer's gloved hands as she descended, the black gown whispering against her thighs with every step. The chandeliers overhead dripped golden light onto the sea of mafia royalty below men in tailored suits clutching cigars, women in slit dresses balancing champagne flutes and knives with equal grace.

Aryaveer walked beside her, his presence a dark current that parted the crowd before them. His hand rested at the small of her back not guiding, but claiming.

Then she saw them.

Ayansh Khanna stood near the entrance, his arm draped possessively around Mahira's waist. He looked every inch the prodigal son returned sharp navy suit, hair swept back, his smile all teeth and no warmth as he accepted a welcome drink from a passing server.

Mahira, in contrast, was a vision of delicate fury. Her emerald-green lehenga clung to her curves, the diamond choker at her throat catching the light like frozen tears. Her fingers tightened around her glass when she spotted Heer.

Aryaveer's grip on Heer's waist tightened briefly before he strode forward, his face transforming with startling softness.

"Mahira."

He opened his arms.

For a heartbeat, Mahira hesitated-then she rushed into her brother's embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. Aryaveer cupped the back of her head, his lips brushing her hairline, his voice too low for others to hear.

Heer watched, something unfamiliar tightening in her chest.

This version of Aryaveer-gentle, protective-was one she hadn't known existed.

The moment shattered when Mahira pulled back, her gaze flicking to Heer. The hatred there was so visceral, Heer nearly took a step back.

Then Ayansh was moving.

"Heer."

He enveloped her in a hug so tight it stole her breath, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered:

"If Mahira gets so much as a scratch because of you, I'll make you wish Aryaveer had killed you."

He pulled back, his smile never wavering as he brushed an imaginary speck off her shoulder.

"You look beautiful, sister."

The words dripped venom.

---

The next hour passed in a blur of poisoned pleasantries.

Aryaveer played the gracious host, introducing Heer to cartel leaders and arms dealers with a smirk that promised she's mine to break. The men eyed her like a curiosity; the women like a threat.

"The infamous Heer Khanna," purred a Russian smuggler's wife, her scarlet nails tracing Heer's collarbone. "I heard Aryaveer whipped the defiance out of you. Pity."

Heer sipped her untouched champagne, her face a mask.

Across the room, Mahira laughed too loudly at something a Sicilian don said, her fingers constantly seeking Ayansh's sleeve. Every time Heer glanced their way, Mahira's smile curdled.

Heer walked out of the hall.

---

The bathroom was quite. As heer prefered.

She turned on the tap, letting icy water rush over her wrists.

The door creaked open.

Mahira stepped inside, locking it behind her.

For a long moment, they stared at each other in the mirror.

"You shouldn't be here," Mahira said at last, her voice trembling.

Heer reached for a towel.

"I said" Mahira grabbed her arm, nails biting through satin. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Heer met her gaze. Silent.

Mahira's lips twisted. She snatched up a crystal soap dish from the counter-and slammed it against the edge of the sink.

Crack.

A shard glinted in her palm.

Before Heer could react, Mahira dragged the sharp edge across her own forearm.

"No" Heer lunged forward.

Too late.

Blood welled, dripping onto white marble like scattered rubies. Mahira's breath hitched not from pain, but triumph.

The door burst open.

Ayansh took in the scene at a glance: Mahira's bleeding arm, the broken glass, Heer's outstretched hand.

"She attacked me!" Mahira sobbed, collapsing against Ayansh's chest.

Ayansh's face darkened.

The first slap sent Heer crashing into the mirror, her cheek exploding in white-hot pain.

The second split her lip.

"Listen carefully," Ayansh hissed, hauling her up by the hair. "If you so much as breathe in her direction again, I'll feed you to Aryaveer piece by piece."

He shoved her away, cradling Mahira as she wept into his shirt.

Over his shoulder, Mahira met Heer's eyes

And smiled.

_________________