They were dragged like lifeless bodies into Sanjay’s farmhouse—the same hell that had once stripped Guru of everything he had… his mother, his peace, his soul. The walls themselves seemed to mock him, echoing the ghosts of his past. Sahil knew it. He knew exactly what could break Guru—and tonight, he wanted to see him shatter.

Guru’s body hit the floor with a dull thud. His hands were tied cruelly behind his back, mouth sealed with tape,eyes blindfolded , legs chained so tightly that the metal bit into his skin. Each breath came out as a ragged gasp—followed by another merciless kick, another hit, another reminder of how helpless he was.

Blood dripped from his forehead, sliding down his cheek and pooling beneath him. His body trembled, but his blindfolded eyes—those wild, burning eyes—still held a storm. Rage, grief, and something deeper… fear. Fear not for himself, but for the girl being dragged into his nightmare.

Sahil stood over him, laughing—that kind of laughter that crawls under your skin, cruel and victorious.

Then, without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed Avni by her hair and pulled her close. She gasped in pain, trying to fight his grip, but he only tightened it, forcing her toward him.

Guru’s muffled growl tore through the tape—raw, desperate, animalistic.

Sahil slammed the glass door shut with a violent clink, locking it from the inside. His grip on Avni’s arm was brutal, dragging her across the floor as she struggled, her voice trembling with pain and panic. The sound of the lock echoed in the silence, sealing their fate inside that room.

His men smirked as they walked out, leaving behind only three  in that dark corner of hell. Before stepping out, Raghu gave Guru one last parting gift—a cruel kick straight to his stomach. Guru’s body jerked with the impact, a groan tearing from his throat behind the tape. Sahil laughed at the sight, the sound dripping with satisfaction.

He wanted Guru to suffer. To hear. To witness every scream, every tear, every moment Avni broke—because for Sahil, this wasn’t just revenge. It was his twisted way of claiming victory… of taking what he called Guru’s property.

Only a glass door stood between them—transparent. But sahil chose to make guru blind as he wanted him to suffer, suffer like he did in his childhood.  He could imagine the terror in Avni’s eyes, her silent pleas for help. He could hear the faint sound of her crying, her desperate voice begging him not to let this happen.

Guru’s wrists bled as he pulled against the ropes, his heart pounding, breath shaking with fury. His muffled scream tore through the tape, raw and helpless.

Sahil ripped the tape from Avni’s mouth, making her cry out in pain. He shoved her onto the bed, her hands still bound behind her back as she struggled to move, terrified and helpless. He loomed over her, his shadow falling across her trembling face.

Her screams tore through the air — raw, terrified, breaking through the glass and into Guru’s soul. Every sound felt like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He fought the chains until his wrists burned, his body trembling with rage and helplessness.

his voice cracked behind the tape, desperate, muffled. He could only hear — her cries echoing in his veins.

Sahil’s voice filled the room, low and cruel, taunting Guru as he cornered her. Avni’s tears soaked the pillow; her entire body shook with fear. She wasn’t just scared — she was shattered. Every second felt like a lifetime of pain, and all she wanted was for it to end — to escape this nightmare, to wake up anywhere but here.

She looked away in disgust as sahil touched her body, his lips roamed over her while his hand find its way to inside her pants.

Sahil’s lips curled into a wicked smirk as if he’d finally found his twisted victory. Avni’s cries only fueled his madness, making him laugh—a cruel, heartless sound that echoed through the room.

But just as his hand brushed against her skin, something inside her snapped. With trembling hands and wild terror blazing in her eyes, she reached for the vase beside the bed—her only weapon.

Before he could react, she slammed it against his head with every ounce of strength left in her.

The sound of glass shattering filled the air.

Sahil staggered back, clutching his bleeding head, howling in pain and disbelief. “sali!!—!” he growled, his voice breaking into fury as he stumbled toward her.

Avni pushed him with all her strength, her body shaking, tears streaming down her face. But as he lunged again—groaning, his rage turning feral—she slipped and fell off the bed, crashing hard onto the floor with the rope.

Sahil staggered forward, blood streaming down his temple, his face twisted with fury. “madarch**...!” he spat, his voice coarse with rage.

His hand struck her face with brutal force, the impact echoing through the room. Avni fell hard, her cheek burning, vision spinning. Before she could even gather her breath, his boot collided with her stomach—once, twice—each blow stealing the air from her lungs.

A broken cry escaped her lips as she curled on the floor, clutching herself, her tears mixing with the dust beneath her. He hurled filthy words at her, words so degrading they burned more than his hits. Her body trembled, her spirit flickering between pain and defiance.

He crouched down, breathing heavily, his presence suffocating. The air thickened with danger, his every movement filled with dark intent. Avni’s pulse raced in terror; her mind screamed for escape, but her body refused to move. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for it to end, her heart pounding with helpless dread.

Sahil pulled down his pants and settled himself between her legs.

"Bhai!!!"

"Bhaiii!!!"

Sahil ignored the voice

But before Sahil could do anything  omething caught his eye — smoke curling up against the glass window. He froze, blinking in confusion

Outside, Raghu was pounding furiously on the door, his voice trembling. “Bhai!!!” he shouted, slapping the glass hard enough to rattle it.

Sahil turned sharply, glaring one last time at Avni before walking toward the door. “Kya hua?!” he barked, irritation dripping from his tone.

Raghu’s face was pale, drenched in sweat and panic. “Bhai, yaha se bhagna hoga! Chaaro taraf aag lag gayi hai!” (Brother, we have to escape! The whole place is on fire!)

Sahil’s eyes widened. “Kya?!” (What?!)

“Haan! Aur saari gaadi—” (Yes! And all the cars—) Raghu’s voice was cut short by a deafening blast. The ground shook as flames burst from outside, lighting the windows in a violent orange glow.

Another man came running, coughing, eyes wild. “Bhai! Saari gaadiyon mein kisi ne aag laga di hai… aur police bhi yaha aa rahi hai!” (Brother! Someone set all the cars on fire… and the police are on their way!)

Sahil’s expression shifted from fury to shovk. He looked around, the chaos swallowing his arrogance. Then his gaze flicked back toward Avni — lying on the floor, trembling but alive.

“Bhai, usee chhodiye!” Raghu shouted over the roar of the flames. “Yeh log yahi mar jayenge!” (Leave her, brother! They’ll die here anyway!)

For a moment, Sahil hesitated  jaw clenched, breath heavy  then he yanked his pants back into place, muttering curses under his breath. The smoke was getting thicker now, the air burning hot. Sahil locked the door leaving avni inside.

Raghu grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the staircase. They stumbled down together, choking on the smoke, eyes watering. Below them, the entire farmhouse was in chaos — furniture burning, curtains collapsing into ash, and even the main door swallowed by fire.

The fire crackled louder, walls creaking, as if the whole building was ready to collapse.

Sahil stopped dead, as if some cold, ugly memory had slammed into him. He couldn’t leave them — not like this. Not while the thought of Guru’s blood on his hands still tasted like victory. His face hardened. “Tu nikal yaha se, mein aata hoon.”

(“Get out of here, I’m coming back.”)

“Bhai, pagal mat bano—kabhi bhi — TU JAAAA!!!” Raghu screamed, breathless, dragging at his sleeve.

(“Brother, don’t be crazy— GO!!”)

Sahil didn’t listen. He ripped his hand free, the flame-light turning his shadow into something monstrous, and he ran back up the stairs. Raghu stared after him in disbelief, then, panic finally swallowing sense, bolted for the exit to save himself.

The staircase was a throat of smoke and heat. Each step hit like a drumbeat in Sahil’s chest; the air tasted of burning rubber and something fouler — hatred sharpened into purpose. Outside, the farmhouse roared; inside, the rooms were drowning in an orange, hungry light. He could hear people screaming, feet thudding, glass popping like distant gunshots.

Sahil’s steps faltered as his eyes darted through the smoke-filled chaos. The air was suffocating—heavy with burning wood and the sharp sting of melted metal—but his focus was clear, deadly. His hand slid into his pocket, pulling out the small knife he always carried, the blade glinting in the fiery light.

Through the shifting smoke, he spotted him. Guru lay on the floor just like before—motionless, beaten, surrounded by flames that crept closer with every second.

But then his gaze shifted—toward the closed glass door. Amid the smoke and flickering light, a few strands of hair and a faint glimpse of a trembling hand caught his eye. Avni. She was still there.

A dark satisfaction twisted his features. “Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the knife. The flames reflected in his eyes, wild and merciless, as he took a step closer.

Sahil stepped closer through the thick smoke, the knife gleaming wickedly in his hand. His boots crunched over broken glass, his breath coming out in short, furious bursts. He could see Guru lying there, barely moving, his body weak, half-burned ropes still clinging to his wrists.

A cruel smile twisted on Sahil’s face. “Ab khatam hoti hai teri kahani…” (Now your story ends here…) he muttered, raising the knife high.

He lunged forward—fast, brutal, ready to end it in one strike.

But just as the blade came down, a hand shot up, gripping his wrist with surprising force. Sahil froze, shock flashing across his face. Guru’s eyes were open now, blazing through the haze, his fingers locked around Sahil’s wrist, stopping the knife inches away from his throat.

For a split second, neither moved—the only sound was the roar of fire around them and their ragged breathing. Sahil’s muscles strained, trying to push the knife down, but Guru’s grip only tightened, veins bulging under the soot and blood.

The tables had turned—silently, suddenly—and the look in Guru’s eyes said one thing clearly ,not yet.

Using every ounce of strength left in him, Guru slammed guru down with a violent thud that rattled the floor. Before Sahil could recover, Guru pinned him there, his knees pressing hard against Sahil’s chest.

Then came the first punch—sharp and heavy—crashing straight into Sahil’s jaw. The second landed harder, splattering blood across the floor. Sahil grunted, dazed, his head snapping to the side. He tried to move his hand, tried to reach for anything to fight back—but he never got the chance.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Guru seized the knife that had fallen nearby and drove it straight through Sahil’s palm.

A raw, gut-wrenching scream ripped out of Sahil’s throat, echoing through the burning farmhouse. His eyes went wide with agony as the blade sank deep, pinning his hand to the ground.

The firelight flickered across their faces—one twisted in unbearable pain, the other carved with fury and exhaustion. The air filled with the sound of crackling flames and Sahil’s screams, but Guru didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His chest heaved, his breath heavy, his eyes still locked on the man who touched his women.

Guru’s eyes burned with unrelenting rage, the sound of Avni’s screams still echoing in his ears. He hadn’t seen what Sahil had done, but he didn’t need to — those cries were enough to carve through his soul like a blade.

Every scream, every sob, had turned into fire inside him. There was no guilt, no mercy left — only hatred so deep it felt poisonous. His breath came in ragged bursts, chest heaving as his grip tightened on the knife.

All he could see was Sahil — the man whose laughter had drowned out Avni’s pain, whose cruelty had pushed her to the edge. And now, Guru’s only thought, his only purpose, was to make him feel that same agony. Slowly. Painfully. Until the fire inside him finally went silent.

His legs were still chained, the cold metal biting into his skin, but his upper body was free now. He had burned through the ropes around his wrists—skin scorched, flesh raw—but he didn’t flinch. Pain didn’t matter anymore. Not when rage was the only thing keeping him alive.

He forced himself to stay still, his chest barely rising, eyes half-shut. The tape that once sealed his mouth hung loose now, singed at the edges. He peeled it off quietly, tasting blood and smoke on his lips.

He knew Sahil too well—knew that man’s ego, his hunger to end things with his own hands. Sahil wouldn’t just walk away. He’d come back. He’d want to see the life fade from his eyes.

So Guru waited.

He lay there, motionless, letting the firelight flicker over his bruised face. Every breath was shallow, calculated. He made himself look weak, helpless—like the same prisoner Sahil had left behind. But behind those half-lidded eyes, his mind was razor-sharp, waiting for that one mistake.

He heard footsteps—heavy, angry, getting closer. A faint smirk ghosted across his bloodied lips.

Blood trickled down Guru’s face, tracing over his scars and the curve of his jaw until he looked like something pulled straight out of the nightmares people whispered about. The “monster” they spoke of—the one Sahil had always feared, the one whose name alone silenced men—was standing right in front of him.

Sahil’s throat went dry as his gaze darted toward the door. But except for the fire swallowing the room, there was no one there. No Raghu. No guards. No escape. Only Guru—bleeding, breathing hard, and alive in the kind of way that promised destruction.

Guru’s hand tightened around the knife. His muscles trembled with exhaustion, but his rage made him unstoppable. Before Sahil could even flinch, Guru drove the blade down into his palm again—this time deeper, harsher, crueler.

Sahil’s scream ripped through the burning air, but Guru didn’t blink. The sound only fed him. Each stab came with the memory of Avni’s cries—the helplessness he’d felt behind that glass door. It wasn’t just revenge now. It was retribution.

Blood spilled over Sahil’s trembling fingers, his eyes wide in terror. For the first time, he truly saw the monster people feared. The man whose silence was deadlier than a scream. The man he should never have touched what belonged to.

Guru’s voice finally broke the silence, low and rough, like thunder in the smoke-filled air.

"Tune hath Kaise lagaya use?"

(How dare you  touch her?)