"Get. Up."
His voice was quiet — too quiet. The kind of quiet that made the air colder.
Suryaveer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but before he could say a word, Abhimanyu turned slightly, not taking his eyes off him.
"Take him," he ordered.
The two guards moved instantly. One stepped behind Suryaveer, gripping his shoulder.
"What—?!" Meera shot to her feet so fast her chair toppled back with a loud clang. "No! You're not taking him anywhere!"
She planted herself between Suryaveer and the guards, her small frame like a shield. "Abhimanyu, stop this—"
"Move, Meera," he said, his voice like a blade — not raised, but deadly.
"I said no!" she snapped, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
The guard nearest to her didn't hesitate. He caught her by the arm and pulled her aside. Her breath caught as her back brushed against the sharp edge of the table, the grip on her arm unyielding.
"Let her go," Abhimanyu said flatly — but not to free her. His eyes never left Suryaveer as the second guard took hold of the older man's arm and began pulling him away from the table.
"Abhimanyu!" she shouted, struggling against the guard holding her. "You can't do this! Let him go!"
Suryaveer's eyes met hers for a split second — calm, almost resigned — before he was dragged toward the door.
The restaurant had gone silent. Every patron stared, but nobody dared interfere.
And through it all, Abhimanyu stood still, watching her with a look that made her chest ache — a storm brewing behind eyes of steel.
The moment the guards reached the door with Suryaveer, Meera wrenched her arm free with a sharp twist. Pain shot through her wrist, but she didn't care.
"Meera!" Abhimanyu's warning voice followed her, but she was already running.
She burst out into the icy air, her breath misting as she caught sight of the black SUV parked at the curb. One guard was shoving Suryaveer toward the backseat.
"Stop!" she yelled, darting forward. Her hands slammed against the car door before they could close it. "You're not taking him!"
In the next instant, Abhimanyu's hand clamped around her wrist — not harshly, but with an iron grip that stopped her cold.
He stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Suryaveer completely. "Enough," he said, his voice low and lethal. "You don't know what you're doing."
Her eyes burned. "I know exactly what I'm doing — I'm stopping you from throwing an innocent man into whatever prison you think he deserves!"
His jaw flexed. "Innocent? You have no idea who you're defending."
"I do!" she shot back, shoving his chest with both hands. "I've known him since I was a child! He was like family to my father — he is family to me!"
Abhimanyu caught her wrists mid-swing, holding them against his chest. His eyes locked onto hers — a flicker of something raw flashing through the anger. "And your father was the reason my parents are in the ground."
Her breath hitched. "That's not what happened—"
"Don't." His grip tightened for just a second before he released her. "We are not having this conversation here."
Behind them, the guard slid Suryaveer into the SUV and shut the door. The sound made Meera flinch.
She turned sharply, trying to go around Abhimanyu, but his arm came up, barring her path. "Enough, Meera."
The SUV engine roared to life, and she could only stand there, trembling with fury, as it pulled away.
When she looked back at Abhimanyu, his face was unreadable — but his eyes… his eyes held a warning. And something else. Something that felt like the start of a war neither of them could win.
The guard who had held Meera before stepped back into the restaurant's entrance.
"They've left, sir."
Abhimanyu didn't even glance at him. His gaze was still locked on Meera — cold, unreadable.
"Take Rizwan with you," he ordered flatly.
Meera's eyes widened. "What?" She took a step forward. "No. You're not taking him."
Abhimanyu's tone didn't change. "He goes with them."
Her pulse spiked. "First Suryaveer, now Rizwan? Are you out of your mind? You can't just—"
"I can," he cut in, voice like a blade.
"You won't," she snapped back, stepping closer until she was almost chest-to-chest with him. "Neither of them has done anything to you. You're dragging them into whatever grudge you have against my father, and I'm not going to stand here and watch you destroy innocent people just because you can."
His jaw twitched, the muscle tightening visibly.
"Meera—"
"No!" she shouted, her voice cracking from the force. "You think this is strength? Throwing men into cages because you can't handle the truth? You don't even know what the truth is—"
The sound came before the movement — a sharp, vicious thud that made her flinch. Abhimanyu's fist slammed into the side of the black car behind her, the metal denting under the impact.
For a second, everything went silent except for her own heartbeat.
His hand stayed pressed against the dented door, head bent slightly, his breathing harsh. When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were molten — not just anger, but something deeper, something raw.
"You think I don't know the truth?" His voice was low, shaking in a way that was more dangerous than if he had shouted. "I've lived with it every single day since I buried my parents. Don't tell me about innocence, Meera."
She swallowed hard, the echo of the punch ringing in her ears, but she didn't move away.
The air was still vibrating from the impact when more guards — this time women — stepped from the car.
Abhimanyu didn't look at them at first, his eyes still locked on Meera. Then, without breaking that connection, he spoke in a clipped tone.
"Take her to the palace. Keep her in our chambers."
The women moved forward, but Meera's head snapped toward them, disbelief flashing across her face.
"What?" she barked, then turned back to him. "No. I'm not going anywhere."
"You will," he said, voice low but unyielding.
"I won't be locked away like some prisoner," she shot back, her voice rising. "I'm not one of your enemies, Abhimanyu. You don't get to cage me because I said something you don't like."
His jaw clenched, but he didn't take his eyes off her. The female guards hesitated, clearly unsure whether to act without his signal.
"You will go," he repeated, softer now but far more dangerous. "Before I decide you are one of them."
Her heart thudded, but she held his gaze. "You do that, and you'll prove every single thing Suryaveer said about you."
For the first time that evening, something flickered in his expression — a flash of confusion beneath the fury.
If you want, I can carry it forward so that the mention of Suryaveer stops him just long enough for the tension to tilt toward a new, dangerous conversation in the car or palace. That way, the reader gets the immediate conflict and the hook for the truth reveal.