The beast's softest Moment
The car sliced through the night, its powerful engine purring as the driver maintained a steady speed toward Rajgarh. Inside, however, the air was thick with unspoken emotions.
Ranvijay remained still, his arms locked around Myra's small frame, his gaze dark as he stared out the tinted windows.
His men had seen him spill blood without flinching, had witnessed the unrelenting fury that made him a name to be feared. He was a beast—merciless, untamed, unforgiving.
But here he was.
Holding a fragile girl as if she was the only thing that mattered.
The silence in the car was deafening. The bodyguards in the front seat stole glances through the rearview mirror, exchanging brief looks, trying to process what they were seeing. Their Rajkumar—the man who had just ended two lives without hesitation—was now cradling a woman with infinite patience.
It was surreal.
Ranvijay, aware of their stares, shot them a single, cutting glance.
One that promised death if they uttered a word.
The guards stiffened, their gazes snapping forward.
He was still their ruthless king.
But when it came to Myra…
His heart didn't follow him.
He exhaled, lowering his head slightly, his breath brushing against her hair. She smelled soft, like jasmine and something delicate—something untouched by the filth of his world.
And yet, she was here.
Wrapped in his arms, wearing his mark—the kala dhaaga.
A claim. A vow.
His thumb grazed over the smooth skin of her arm absently, grounding her. She stirred slightly but didn't wake. The exhaustion had pulled her into a deep sleep, her fingers still clutching onto his shirt as if seeking an anchor.
Ranvijay sighed, his grip tightening ever so slightly.
She didn't belong in this world of violence.
But she belonged to him.
And if fate had decided to give him something this precious, he would guard it with his life.
His jaw clenched as the memory of her panic flashed in his mind. The way she had flinched. The way she had gasped for breath, as if the world was caving in.
Someone had broken her long before he came into her life.
His hands flexed against her back.
He didn't know if it was her stepmother. If it was someone else. But he would find out.
And when he did…
God help them.
The car rolled to a smooth stop at a secluded estate—one of his private properties outside Rajgarh. High walls and security surrounded the area, ensuring absolute safety. The moment the vehicle stopped, a guard opened the door.
Ranvijay didn't move.
His men hesitated. Usually, he was the first to step out, always in control, always ready. But now, they saw something they never expected.
Ranvijay didn't let go.
His gaze flicked down to Myra, still fast asleep in his arms, her delicate features softened in slumber.
Carefully—so carefully—he adjusted her position, keeping her close as he stepped out of the car, carrying her with effortless strength.
His guards averted their gazes, stunned into silence.
The Ranvijay they knew—the one who never spared a second glance at anyone, the one whose hands were stained with blood—was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, this was a man who held a woman as if she was something sacred.
As if she was his whole damn world.
He didn't explain himself.
Didn't need to.
His orders were clear: "No one disturbs her. No one comes near unless I say so."
And then, without another word, he carried Myra inside, the doors shutting behind him.
The beast had found his weakness.
And he would kill for it.