The man's voice scraped the air like broken glass.
"Aarya," he gasped from the doorway, one hand pressed to the bleeding side of his ribs, breath shuddering. "They're coming for you. They want you—just like they wanted your parents."
My entire body went cold
and hot
and numb
all at once.
I staggered back, heart hammering so loudly I couldn't hear anything else.
He took a step inside.
I took two steps back.
"No—stay away. Stay away from me—"
"I'm not here to hurt you," he rasped, lifting both hands though they trembled violently. "Not me. I—I was just trying to warn—"
He swayed.
Something dark dripped from his elbow to the floor.
Blood. Fresh.
He shouldn't even have been standing.
I should have run.
I should have screamed.
I should have locked myself in the nearest room.
But fear pinned me in place, choking me.
And then—
The elevator chimed.
A soft, low sound—barely audible above my racing pulse.
But the intruder heard it too.
His head snapped toward the hallway.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no—he's coming."
Every scream in my throat froze.
Rishabh.
He was coming back.
The intruder lifted his eyes to mine, desperation shining through the pain.
"He'll kill me," he whispered. "You—you have to help me hide—"
He took another step toward me.
Wrong choice.
Because the moment he moved—
the air changed.
A presence flooded the room behind him.
Heavy.
Inevitable.
Deadly calm.
The kind of presence that steals oxygen from your lungs.
The man turned.
Slowly.
Fear drained the color from his face.
Rishabh stood at the end of the hall.
Black shirt.
Blood on his sleeve.
Eyes void of mercy.
He didn't ask how the man got free.
He didn't ask why he was near me.
He simply said:
"You shouldn't have done that."
The intruder stumbled backward, hands raised. "I—I wasn't going to touch her. I swear—"
"You screamed her name."
Rishabh's voice was barely above a whisper.
That made it worse.
"Inside my home."
"I didn't mean—"
"You looked at her."
"I was warning her!"
"You breathed in her direction."
My breath locked in my chest.
No shouting.
No rage.
Just quiet.
Cold.
Unmoving.
A predator choosing whether to kill.
The intruder panicked.
"Please—she's innocent. Just like her mother—"
Rishabh moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
One moment he was at the end of the hall.
The next, he had the man by the neck, slamming him into the wall so hard the artwork rattled.
I flinched violently.
The man choked, feet kicking weakly.
"Her mother?" Rishabh said quietly, tightening his grip.
"Who told you that name?"
The man clawed at his wrist, voice cracking.
"P-please—don't—"
"Who?"
Rishabh's voice never rose.
His knuckles whitened.
The man's face turned red.
Blood smeared across the wall behind them.
I couldn't breathe.
"Rishabh," I whispered.
He didn't seem to hear me.
The intruder's vision blurred.
His legs sagged.
"Last chance," Rishabh murmured, leaning in.
"Who sent you?"
"I don't—I don't kno—"
"Wrong answer."
His wrist flexed.
The man's body jerked.
"No!"
The scream ripped out of me before I realized I'd moved.
"Stop—please—stop!"
Something broke inside me.
The room spun.
My lungs collapsed inward.
"Stop," I whispered again, barely audible now.
"Please…"
The world blurred in white static.
Panic.
Panic so sharp my knees buckled.
The marble floor tilted.
Before I hit it—
Arms caught me.
Strong. Warm.
Unshaking.
Not hurting.
Not restraining.
Holding.
"Aarya—"
Rishabh's voice cut through the static, low and fierce.
I gasped, clawing for air.
It wouldn't come.
My vision tunneled.
"Look at me," he ordered.
I couldn't.
"Aarya."
His grip tightened—not trapping, grounding.
"Look at me."
My eyes finally jerked up.
His face was inches from mine.
Not cold.
Not cruel.
Terrified.
"Aarya," he said again, softer now.
"You're having a panic attack. Breathe."
I shook my head, breath stuttering.
He lifted a hand to my cheek—
I flinched so hard his eyes flickered with something dark and wounded.
But he didn't pull away.
Instead, he cupped the sides of my face lightly and leaned his forehead against mine.
"Match me," he whispered.
"Just breathe with me."
His chest lifted slowly.
I tried.
Failed.
He did it again.
And again.
Until my lungs finally obeyed.
Until the roaring in my ears softened.
Until the world returned in fragments.
When I could stand again, he didn't let go.
His thumb brushed a tear off my cheek.
It broke something in him—I saw it.
He stood.
Turned.
And walked toward the intruder.
The man lay crumpled against the wall, semi-conscious, gasping.
Rishabh didn't touch him.
He just looked at him.
"I warned you," he said softly.
"I told you not to breathe near her."
The man whimpered.
Rishabh lifted a hand.
I stepped forward, voice hoarse—
"Rishabh, don't."
He paused.
Not because of the man.
Because of me.
His shoulders lowered a fraction.
He exhaled.
And then he said, still looking at the man on the floor:
"You will answer my questions.
But not here."
He signaled the guards.
Two men appeared instantly.
"Take him downstairs. Isolate him. No one touches him until I get there."
The intruder was dragged out.
Silence followed.
A thick, suffocating silence.
Rishabh didn't turn.
I didn't move.
Finally—
"You can't keep doing this," I whispered.
He turned slowly.
His eyes were dark.
Haunted.
Frustrated.
"You think I enjoy this?" he asked, voice low.
"You don't stop it."
"I stop everything that touches you."
My chest tightened painfully.
"You're suffocating me," I whispered.
His jaw locked.
"And you're scaring me," he said quietly.
That made me freeze.
He took a single step toward me.
"You think I don't know you hate this place? Hate me?"
His voice fractured slightly—just a crack.
"But someone out there wants you dead, Aarya. Someone who knew your mother."
I froze.
"My… what?"
He didn't soften.
Didn't look away.
"They knew her name."
My breath hitched.
He stepped closer.
Someone was behind your parents' death.
Someone sent men to your house.
Someone paid for information about you."
"About… me?" I whispered.
"Yes."
"Why?"
He exhaled slowly.
"Because you weren't supposed to survive either."
The room spun again.
Rishabh closed the distance between us before I swayed.
He didn't touch me this time.
He just… stayed close.
Close enough that I could feel the warmth of him.
Close enough that I hated what it did to me.
"We're done pretending this is anything simple," he said quietly.
"You need answers. I need the truth. And whoever sent that man—"
His voice dropped to a growl.
"—needs to die."
I swallowed hard.
"Tell me," I whispered.
"Tell me what he said before you got here."
Rishabh studied my face.
Every tremor.
Every fear.
Every shred of defiance.
Then—
Very quietly—
"He said you look like her."
"Like… who?"
He hesitated.
His voice was almost afraid of itself when he spoke.
"Your mother."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"I don't—"
My throat closed.
"My mother died when I was a child—she—she had an accident—"
He didn't blink.
"That's what you were told."
I shook my head furiously.
"No. No, she died. I know she died."
"Aarya."
His eyes softened in a way that destroyed me.
"She didn't die in an accident."
My knees buckled.
Rishabh reached out instinctively—
—but stopped himself inches before touching me.
"Aarya," he said, voice breaking in a way I'd never heard from him.
"Your mother was murdered."