The Pillars of Her Strength

Aira's fingers lingered on the photograph, her eyes tracing the faces that had shaped her existence. Each man in that picture was more than a sibling—they were her protectors, her anchors, her greatest strength.

Vikram Rathore, the eldest, was a military strategist feared even by his enemies. It was his unshakable will that had pulled Aira from the abyss, molding her into the warrior she was today.

Kabir Sehgal, the second eldest, had once walked the path of war but now wielded a scalpel as a renowned neurosurgeon. He had seen too much bloodshed, but despite his gentle nature, he would pick up a gun without hesitation if it meant protecting his family.

Reyan Malhotra, a tech mogul and cybersecurity genius, operated in the shadows of the digital world. He ensured Aira's enemies couldn't find her, fortified military intelligence, and neutralized threats before they could surface.

And finally, Aryan Shekhawat—the youngest, yet the most dangerous. He was the knife in Aira's hand, eliminating threats that laws could not touch. Mischievous yet deadly, reckless yet precise, he was the only person who could challenge her wit-for-wit and move-for-move.

Their bond wasn't built on blood, but on shared pain, unspeakable losses, and a vow to never let history repeat itself.

A sharp knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Enter," she commanded, her voice steady.

A uniformed soldier stepped in, saluting her. "General, your transport is ready. The gala begins in an hour."

Aira placed the photograph back on her desk, slipping on her gloves. The moment of reflection was over. Now, it was time to play her part in a different kind of battlefield.

The city lights of Vasgarh stretched endlessly beneath the military chopper slicing through the night sky. Seated inside, General Aira Mehra exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh.

She was heading toward a world she despised—the world of polished deception, where words held more venom than bullets, and power was wielded not through strategy, but through influence.

The gala.

A diplomatic necessity, they had called it. A stage where military power and corporate supremacy intersected. Where alliances were formed, and enemies were measured.

Aira had no patience for it.

Yet, duty called.

Her headset crackled to life. "General, we're five minutes out from the Crystal Mirage Hotel."

"Copy that," she responded, her tone clipped.

As the chopper descended toward the hotel's private landing pad, she reached for her gloves. The weight of responsibility settled over her shoulders, irritation evident.

They weren't just her family. They were the only reason she still stood.

The chopper touched down smoothly. Aira pulled her mask of indifference into place.

Time to step into the lion's den.

She had no idea that another predator was waiting.