Akamaya

In the ruthless underworld of Mumbai, where bloodlines rule and bullets speak louder than words, Arpan More was born not into life—but into power, violence, and shadows. Groomed to inherit his father’s criminal empire, he rules with silence, strikes with precision, and loves with caution—until a girl named Samruddhi Jadhav ignites the one war he never prepared for: the war within himself.

Samruddhi, an idealistic journalist with a haunted past, is chasing a story that could burn the city down—starting with the More family. What begins as a mission to expose a crime lord becomes a dangerously intimate obsession with the very man she’s meant to destroy.

But this isn’t a tale of love and roses—it's love drenched in gunpowder, betrayal, and buried secrets.

As Arpan and Samruddhi fall deeper into each other, their pasts begin to bleed into their present. A hidden photograph, an unsolved murder, a voice from the dead—each chapter unearths a truth more brutal than the last.

And when love is caught between legacy and justice, between revenge and redemption—every choice is a trigger, and every heartbeat might be the last.

In a world where loyalty is currency and trust is fatal, **can love survive the war of kings and killers? Or will their story end like all others written in the underworld—**with blood on the walls and silence in their names?

Crimson Veins: The Love That Burned the Underworld

Mumbai's coastline yawned beneath them as the van sped across the bridge to Navi Mumbai. The sea looked peaceful—liar that it was. Inside the van, silence reigned. Samruddhi wiped the blood off her lip. Arpan drove with one hand, the other pressing a towel to his shoulder. Karishma lay stretched in the back seat, leg still throbbing.

Nobody said a word until they arrived at a warehouse Arpan had purchased using a shell name years before—untraceable, underground, and not remembered by any law except those scribbled in bullets.

Within, maps covered a rusted table. USBs, cassettes, and ledgers written in hand lay in piles, watched like gold.

Karishma was the one to snap the silence. "Devraj attempted to burn the evidence. But he failed."

"Because he undervalued what you inherited," Samruddhi added. "From Rina."

Karishma's jaw tightened. "She was brave, but not invincible. I'll be both."

Arpan placed the ledger labeled Operation Shivraaj at the center. "This one connects politicians, police, and real estate scams to contract killings. Including the riots in 2002."

Samruddhi flipped the pages. "And here—this is my father's signature. And Devraj's."

Karishma looked away. "Jai Jadhav made choices that killed her."

No," Samruddhi breathed. "He made decisions to save me. He gave his life for it."

Arpan moved closer. "And we get to decide what to do with this one."

Tonight, the three gathered in a deserted signal tower that hung over the city. They were out of hiding now.

Karishma pushed open a laptop. "We release this to all the outlets. All the languages. No waiting. We disperse the truth like ash.

Samruddhi paused. "And what do the streets of Mumbai do when their kings are found to be murderers? The streets won't forgive. They'll riot."

Arpan gazed at her. "Good. Perhaps it's time for fire."

And then a voice came through the tower.

Behind him—ACP Raghav. One arm in a sling. Gun in the other.

"You believe truth prevails?" Devraj asked. "Truth perishes quicker than men."

Karishma went down behind the console.

Samruddhi took down Devraj. The gun boomed.

Arpan tackled Raghav to the floor.

All newspapers. All blogs. All news anchors in the nation ignited like firecrackers.

Arpan did not pursue. He merely gazed at the screen.

An hour later, the city was burning.

The Blood That Binds and Breaks