The Heir of Hell – Devanarayanan’s Entrance

Chennai – Deva Biotech Group, Top Floor Boardroom The Firestorm in a Suit.The silence in the boardroom was not peaceful. It was terror.The frosted glass walls of the 21st floor vibrated faintly from the roar that had just shattered the air inside the Deva Biotech Group Headquarters—a towering black-glass building that loomed over Chennai like a corporate fortress. Inside, under the brutal glare of the white LED panel lights, no one dared to breathe.Papers fluttered to the floor like defeated soldiers."WHO. SIGNED. THIS."The words were ice-cold, but the tone was fire. It wasn't a question. It was a command echoing through the spine of every man seated around the table.And at the head of the boardroom, standing tall and terrifying in a sharp charcoal suit, was Devanarayanan Devendra—the older son of the Devendra Family, the CEO of Deva Skye Enterprises, and the unofficial heir to an empire of blood, bullets, and billions.He was 23, but the room felt like it bowed to his presence.A body built like carved marble, not an inch wasted. His tattoos peeked through his shirt cuffs, tribal lines inked in brutal black. His jaw was locked, veins rising along his arms as he slammed a file onto the desk again."Four million rupees missing from the Q2 asset sweep," he snarled.

"And I have to find out from a European contact? Are you all dead, or just fucking useless?"The assistant near the projector screen visibly shook, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "S–Sir, I think the accounts team—"Deva raised a hand. Slowly.

Everyone shut up. Instantly.Not because of the gesture.But because they knew what happened the last time someone cut him off mid-rage.He turned, gaze sweeping over the room. Dark eyes like loaded guns, sharp, silent, calculating who'd die first.

There was something animalistic about his silence—not the calm before the storm, but the storm learning how it wants to destroy."I will not run a company that leaks like a prostitute's confessional," he said quietly, but with a venom that made throats dry.

"If one rupee vanishes again, I'll make sure the one responsible forgets how fingers work."Then—He moved. One step. Leather shoes echoing.His suit fit like war armor. Power oozed off him, cold and brutal. His collarbone tattoo peeked just beneath the undone top button: a serpent biting its own tail. A symbol. A threat. A truth.The room dared not look away, but they all wanted to blink.He stopped in front of the assistant. Eyes locking."Get the European numbers. Audit the Vienna chain. I want every offshore account verified by midnight. If you can't do it—"He leaned forward, voice dipping low, dangerously seductive and terrifyingly direct.

"—don't come back tomorrow. Your face will disappear before your paycheck does."

The assistant nodded rapidly, grabbing the files and nearly tripping on the way out.

Deva straightened. Smoothed his sleeves. Ran a hand through his midnight-black hair slicked back with that ruthless elegance.

And then—he smirked.That deadly, icy smirk."Meeting dismissed," he said.

One by one, men scrambled to exit, murmuring broken apologies, clutching files, drenched in silent panic.He was alone now. Finally.He walked to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, staring down at Chennai.His city. His rules. His jungle.His voice was a whisper now, just for himself."They're lucky I'm wearing a suit."Behind that corporate crown was a man who didn't blink when blood hit silk.Devanarayanan wasn't born cruel.He was born to rule cruelty.The Devendra Mansion was a fortress carved in marble and silence.No music played here. No guards joked in corners. Even the wind passing through its palatial corridors did so quietly, as if afraid to disturb the man who ruled from its shadows.And there—sitting alone in the sun-drenched inner corridor, beneath a hanging chandelier of blackened brass, was Devendra Nathan.The Iron Fist.Aged 47, head of the Devendra Mafia Family, and the kind of man whose silence held more power than a warlord's army.He didn't speak much.

He didn't have to.His reputation whispered before him.Across South India and parts of Europe, men spoke of Devendra Nathan like a myth.A reclusive billionaire. An art collector. A strategist. A ghost in silk.

He was the kind of man whose dinner table could host a sultan and a smuggler in the same hour—and both would leave fearing him more than each other.Today, he sat on the stone bench near the open courtyard, back straight, a document folder in hand, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. A pen in one hand, a steaming black coffee beside him, untouched.Not a single guard stood beside him. He didn't need one.

He was dressed in a simple black kurta and a shawl—no rings, no show of power. Yet the air around him weighed heavy, as though the very stones in the walls waited for his command.The silence was undisturbed—

Until a gust of cooler air entered from the front hallway.Footsteps. Slow. Bold. Measured.Devanarayanan.

In a dark maroon suit, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the serpent tattoo on his collarbone, hair perfectly slicked back, eyes cold and unreadable.The older son. The heir. The fire.He walked with the confidence of a man who knew this mansion was both his playground and his future battlefield.The moment his footsteps echoed in the corridor, Devendra Nathan didn't look up. Not immediately.He merely flipped the page.

But Deva didn't need an invitation. He stopped just two feet from the bench, hands in his pockets, jaw still tight from the firestorm he'd unleashed at the office earlier.

"Accounts cleaned," Deva said."Vienna's shell companies were breached by a minor. I've neutralized the leak. They won't breathe again."A pause.No reaction.No nod.Just silence from the man in black.And then—

Devendra Nathan finally looked up.His gaze—glasses now lowered—was razor-sharp. Not disappointed. Not proud.

Just… observing."You punished them?" he asked, voice deep and calm, almost like a monk.Yet his every word rolled out like quiet commands wrapped in elegance.Deva gave a subtle nod. "Severely."Devendra Nathan looked back at the file, turning another page. "Pain is temporary. Silence is eternal. You should've let the word spread. That they vanished… with no trace."Deva's jaw twitched. "Next time, I will."There was a brief moment where father and son simply stared. Not with emotion. But with an unspoken understanding.Two kings. One throne. A battlefield built in blood.Devendra Nathan leaned back slightly. "You are still fire, Deva. But fire can burn itself if it's not shaped by wind."Deva's eyes sharpened. "Then let the wind try me. I'm not here to burn. I'm here to take it all."The silence returned.Then finally—a faint smile broke across Devendra Nathan's lips. Cold. Calculated.

Not warmth. But approval.He set the file aside."Your brother returns in three days. Your chaos is about to be tested, Devanarayanan."Deva's face hardened.His brother.The one with a sharper mind and quieter rage.The only one who could match his fire with venom.He turned without another word, walking back into the hallway. The moment he disappeared, the breeze returned to the corridor—but it was colder now.And behind him, Devendra Nathan whispered to no one—"A kingdom of fire and poison.Let's see which son bleeds first."