AUTHOR P. O. V
The sun had barely risen over the holy city of Varanasi, casting a soft, golden hue across the ancient ghats, but the quiet within the lavish villa on the outskirts of the city was thick, almost suffocating. The opulent interior, all polished wood and marble, seemed to hold its breath as the man who owned it descended the grand staircase.
Rudra Chakravarthi moved with a grace that hid the power coiled within him, like a predator on the prowl. He was dressed in a simple black T-shirt that clung to his broad chest, highlighting the chiseled muscles beneath. His trousers were plain, the kind any ordinary man might wear, but there was nothing ordinary about him. Every step he took made the floor beneath him feel as though it were trembling in fear, though no sound was made.
His presence alone could darken a room. There was something in the way he carried himself—an aura that demanded respect, that warned others to keep their distance. His eyes, dark and deep as the night sky, focused on nothing in particular as he walked, yet they seemed to see everything. They were eyes that had witnessed countless battles, that had stared down death and emerged victorious. They were eyes that, even in stillness, held a promise of violence.
In one hand, he held a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling lazily with each subtle movement of his wrist. The other hand, relaxed and unhurried, cradled the cold steel of a gun, its presence as natural to him as the air he breathed,which is why you wouldn't call him ordinary next time. It was an odd juxtaposition—casual attire, a calm demeanor, and the unmistakable edge of danger that radiated from him like heat from a furnace.
His muscles flexed with every step, the tension in his body controlled, purposeful, yet ready to explode into action at a moment's notice. There was a quiet lethality about him, a sense that he was not just capable of violence but that he was violence incarnate—contained for now, but always lurking beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the room seemed to grow colder, the very air heavy with the unspoken knowledge of who he was. Rudra Chakravarthi was not just a man—he was a force of nature, one that could not be reasoned with, only respected or feared.
He paused, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his whiskey, his gaze finally settling on Keshav, his personal assistant, waiting for him. Keshav walked forward, his posture rigid.
“Sir, the guy we found at Ganga Aarti is in the basement. He's our project’s network assistant, Vikram,” Keshav reported. Rudra nodded, gesturing for him to continue as he took another casual sip of his whiskey, as though the information meant nothing to him.
Keshav sighed heavily, his head bowing slightly. “He’s not cooperating, sir. He refuses to talk.”
Rudra’s eyes darkened, and he turned his head slowly, dangerously, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Let's see how long that lasts now, shall we?"
His smirk widened as he began to walk towards the basement, Keshav following closely behind. The door to the basement creaked open, revealing the grim scene within. The “artwork” his men had created lay sprawled in the center of the room—Vikram, one of Rudra's own employees, tied to a chair, blood dripping from his face, pooling beneath him.
Rudra’s smirk widened further. Even though his men had used every tool in their sadistic book, Vikram had not broken. A testament to his resolve, though not one that would save him. Rudra walked slowly, each step calculated, the predator closing in on his prey.
He moved towards a chair positioned opposite Vikram and sat down leisurely, sipping his whiskey and casually rubbing the barrel of his gun. His eyes never left Vikram’s battered form.
“We meet again, Vikram,” Rudra said, his voice dripping with malice.
Vikram barely lifted his head, his eyes sunken and hollow, yet defiant. Rudra continued, his tone conversational, almost bored. “I hate to waste my time on you, so Tell me who’s behind you.”
~Flashback~
Weeks ago, Rudra’s organization had been working tirelessly on a highly classified project known as "Eclipse." The project aimed to build a network of influential connections, controlling the power structures in major cities. With Eclipse, Rudra would gain control over the powerful figures in society—media outlets, government agencies, law enforcement, corporations, financial institutions—allowing him to manipulate public opinion, shape policies, and amass unprecedented wealth and power.
But two weeks ago, Rudra had discovered that someone had been sabotaging Eclipse. Data manipulation, delays, and misdirection. It was clear someone was trying to undermine the project from within.
One night, when the tension in the company was at its peak, the building was buzzing with activity, employees hunched over their computers, desperate to find the cause of the disruption. The air was thick with exhaustion and dread. Keshav, disheveled and tired, had rushed into Rudra’s office.
Rudra’s office was the epitome of modern luxury. The space was vast, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The room itself was sleek, every surface gleaming, every detail a testament to wealth and power. Dark, polished floors stretched out beneath a heavy mahogany desk, while leather chairs and minimalist art adorned the walls. The glass walls, however, were the focal point—massive panes of crystal-clear glass that allowed Rudra to look down on the city he ruled.
Keshav had entered cautiously, knowing better than to interrupt Rudra unless it was urgent. Rudra stood by the glass wall, his back to the room, sipping his wine as he gazed out at the twinkling lights of the city.
“Sir, we’ve found the problem,” Keshav had said quickly, eager to report. “It’s one of our own—Vikram. He’s been messing with the data, and we tracked him to Varanasi. Our men are ready to bring him in on your command—”
Rudra had turned his gaze slowly from the glass wall to Keshav, a look of dark excitement in his eyes. "Now, where’s the fun in that, Keshav? I'd like to visit our dear guest personally.”
~End of flashback~
Now, sitting across from Vikram, Rudra’s smirk deepened. “I’m not a patient man. Don’t. Waste. My. Time.”
Vikram remained silent, defiance shining in his eyes despite the blood and pain. Rudra gestured to his men. "Continue."
Without hesitation, the hulking men around Vikram sprang into action, fists flying. Vikram’s screams echoed through the basement, his body jerking with every blow.
Rudra stood, his eyes darkening further. “Spill the name, or die.”
Vikram, blood dripping from his mouth, spat weakly. “I’ll die either way.”
Rudra admired his bravery, but it wouldn’t save him. He moved around Vikram’s chair, setting his gun aside and picking up a gleaming knife from the table. He leaned down, his voice low and chilling. “You’re right, Vikram. You’ll die either way. But you had the chance to make this easier.”
Rudra’s knife flashed in the dim light, and with a sickening sound, he sliced off Vikram’s finger. Vikram screamed, his body writhing in pain.
“This,” Rudra said calmly, “is for betraying your boss.”
Another finger fell to the floor with a wet thud.
“And this is for making me step foot in that damn temple.”
As Rudra sliced through Vikram’s finger, his mind drifted for a brief second to that woman at the ghats—the one who had disrupted the stillness he kept tightly wrapped around him. Her image flashed before his eyes, unbidden but potent, like an unshakable whisper.
The memory of her face lingered, her calm yet intense presence cutting through him like the very knife in his hand. He couldn't forget how she seemed untouched by the chaos that swirled around her. There was something in the quiet strength of her gaze that tugged at the part of him he thought had long since died.
It had been just a moment, but one powerful enough to disturb the carefully controlled rage he carried within him. She had made his heart beat faster, a jarring feeling he had not experienced in years. It irritated him. How could a mere woman—someone so insignificant—stir something in me?
Rudra clenched his jaw as he severed another finger. This rage—this violence—was how he controlled his world, yet her presence had intruded on that order. That woman, with her unshakable calm, had etched herself into his mind.
' This is for making me think of her,' he thought as he sliced once more, trying to bury the memory with every cut, but the more he tried, the more vividly her face appeared, her image haunting him in a way that nothing ever had before.
Vikram’s screams pierced the air. Rudra threw the knife to his men. "Let him feel the true meaning of pain."
The men obeyed, the sound of flesh tearing filling the room as Vikram’s body trembled in agony. Rudra leaned in close, his voice a deadly whisper. "Spill the name, and I’ll end your suffering."
Vikram's voice cracked. "Rahul… Rahul Chauhan from Chandauli. He ordered me to mess with the project... I’m sorry… He threatened to kill my daughter... my family..."
Rudra’s eyes narrowed. “A worker in my empire should know better. Rudra Chakravarthi NEVER forgives.”
Without another word, a single shot echoed through the room, and Vikram’s head slumped, lifeless.
Rudra stood, his gaze cold and unwavering as he looked down at Vikram’s corpse. “Find Rahul Chauhan. Chandauli,” he said, his voice void of emotion.
Keshav nodded, already on his phone. After about half an hour, he returned. “Sir, we’ve found him. We can meet him at a dance academy tomorrow. He’ll be there in the morning.”
“A dance academy?” Rudra raised an eyebrow, confusion crossing his face.
“Yes, sir,” Keshav confirmed. “It’s strange for a man like him to be there instead of at a bar, but we confirmed it. The academy is actually a front for human trafficking. He selects women after the dances, promising them a career, but…”
Rudra cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t give a shit, Keshav. If we’ll find him there, that’s all that matters. I want answers. And i want to get this over with as soon as possible and leave this damn place”
Keshav nodded. He had hoped his boss would show some interest in stopping the trafficking, but Rudra had bigger concerns. They would deal with Rahul Chauhan tomorrow.
RUDRA P.O.V
I left the basement, the sound of Vikram’s dying breath already fading from my mind. The silence that followed felt suffocating, but it wasn’t because of the dead man. No, something else clung to me—she clung to me.
That woman, the one I’d seen at the ghats yesterday—her image haunted me, creeping into the corners of my thoughts. Her calm, those wide, lotus-shaped eyes that refused to leave my mind. It irritated me, made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t recognize.
I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. She’s nothing, I told myself, just another face in the crowd. But the lie sat uneasily. No one had made me feel this unsettled in years—certainly not a woman.
I stepped into my room,
I stripped off my clothes, stepping into the shower. The hot water did little to wash away the irritation. Why does she keep intruding on my thoughts? I’d only seen her for a moment, but her image was burned into my mind—her eyes, the way she stood at the Ganga, unshaken by the chaos around her.
As I got dressed, pulling on a black T-shirt and trousers, I felt the muscles in my chest tighten. I rolled my shoulders, dismissing the thought. She was nothing—a distraction I couldn’t afford.I made my way down stairs where keshav was already waiting for me- long day ahead, I thought to myself getting into the car.
We arrived at the dance academy not long after. I stepped out of the car and looked at the academy,its a place that's anything but what it pretended to be,that honestly didn't concern me. The bodyguards standing at the entrance stiffened the moment they saw me. I didn’t need to say anything. The fear was already etched in their eyes, their nervous hands twitching at their sides.
It was almost amusing—the way people reacted in my presence. They tried to avoid eye contact, their eyes darting nervously like they were prey sensing the arrival of a predator. I could practically smell the fear rolling off them. I entered inside along with keshav and my men following me.
Keshav had already spotted Rahul Chauhan. The man approached quickly, his entire body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. Pathetic. If this was the man who dared to sabotage my project, he certainly didn’t look the part.
“Mr. Chakravarthi… what made you want to meet me?” Rahul’s voice cracked, the fear barely concealed. “I would have come to your feet if you had ordered me.”
Come to my feet? confusion crossed my mind. If he’s this terrified of me, why would he mess with Eclipse? Something wasn’t adding up.
I raised an eyebrow, my tone bored. “Drop the act. Tell me who’s plotting to take the project from me.”
Rahul’s face turned even paler, if that was possible. His hands were shaking as he stammered,
“I… I don’t know what you’re asking me,Mr.Chakravarthi… What project?”
He’s lying. Irritation surged through me. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to control the anger building inside. Keshav took over,observing my anger his voice calm, but I wasn’t listening.
My mind was drifting again—my heart was beating in a way that was disturbingly familiar. The same sensation from yesterday, the thudding in my chest. Why now? I tried to push the feeling down, but it only grew stronger.
That’s when I heard it—the sound of anklets. The faint chime of bells, soft but unmistakable.
I turned my head, and there she was.
Her. The same woman. The one who had disrupted the stillness I had held for years. She was running towards a dressing room, the delicate sound of her anklets ringing in my ears.
She’s performing? The thought barely formed before Rahul’s voice cut through the air, whining like a child. “Please, Mr. Chakravarthi, I swear I don’t know anything about this. I’ve just come to India yesterday! You can check my phone, my connections, anything you want. I don’t even know this Vikram!”
I turned back to look at him, my irritation growing by the second. Keshav spoke again, confirming the truth. “He’s right, boss. He doesn’t know anything. Vikram led us in the wrong direction.”
Vikram. His name felt like venom in my mouth. The fool had wasted my time. But that wasn’t why I was angry. No, the rage was coming from somewhere deeper—something irrational.
It was her. The fact that this woman was still haunting me, still making my heart beat in ways it shouldn’t. I should have left this academy. I should have walked away, forgotten about this place, about her. But I couldn’t.
I gritted my teeth, barely controlling the frustration. Keshav suggested leaving, but I wasn’t listening. My eyes kept flickering to the room where she had disappeared.
If I leave now, she might be sold to those traffickers. Not that I cared. Why would I care? I didn’t even know her. She was just another girl in a world full of them. This is how it works in the world that i live, it's normal.
But something about that thought made my heart beat faster.
“We’re staying to watch the dance,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.
The shock on Keshav’s face was almost amusing. I don't waste my time on this stuff especially dance and classical at that too Everyone knew that. But this wasn’t about dance.
I pointed towards the room. “Who’s the girl in there?”
Rahul gestured for a planner, and the man quickly came forward, speaking nervously. “Her name is Anika, sir.”
"Anika." I whispered her name under my breath. It rolled off my tongue with a strange satisfaction, like something forbidden. Who the hell is she, and why the hell am I doing this?
“Make her perform now,” I ordered, my tone sharp. No one moved for a second, all of them frozen in shock. I didn’t care. I walked to the front row and sat down, my eyes fixed on the stage.
AUTHOR P. O. V
As Anika took the stage, his eyes never left her.Her movements were precise, every step a symphony of grace and power. As she danced, something moved within him, something other than the numbness he had so carefully cultivated over the years. Her eyes—those damn lotus-shaped eyes—held a depth he couldn’t understand. As their gazes met briefly, his heart stirred, a rhythm that was foreign and unsettling.
'I wasn’t supposed to feel anything,' he thought, trying to rationalize it. 'My heart shouldn't be beating like this.'
Yet as he watched her, something in her eyes echoed the same turmoil he felt within himself. He looked away, his mind reeling. What is happening to me? I can’t afford to feel. Not now, not ever.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt his heart still, as if something had shifted within him. Like a long-dormant beast waking.
This is a mistake, he thought to himself, a pang of regret washing over him. He should have left instead of staying—this was only going to make things worse.
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Rahul speaking quietly to his men. His words were clear: "Select her."
Select her for what? Sell her? His rage boiled over, though he didn’t fully understand why. Without thinking, Rudra’s fist clenched around the armrest of his chair.
"Attack the academy," he growled at Keshav, his eyes flashing with rage. "And pack this bastard to jail. Expose his real business to the authorities."
Keshav didn’t hesitate, springing into action. Chaos erupted around them, but Rudra’s focus remained solely on Anika. His mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—ones he had no intention of acknowledging.
As the academy descended into chaos, Rudra turned and left, trying desperately to rid his mind of the image of her eyes, her dance. He couldn’t afford to care.
As he walked outside, his steps slowed when he saw her. Anika. She was running, trying to escape. "Hopefully, you’ll run like that from my mind, he thought bitterly. This will be the last time I see her. It’s better for both of us." He said to himself. As Rudra stood outside the academy, Keshav came running towards him, breathless. "Sir, everything’s under control. Rahul is being taken away by the police."
Keshav hesitated for a moment, confusion flickering across his face. "Was it necessary to—"
Rudra turned his gaze towards him, his eyes cold, sharp. "Ready the jet," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for questions. The last thing he wants is to let him know what's going on his hell of a mind "We’re getting out of this damn place." He said clenching his jaw,with a voice that's full of venom.
Keshav nodded quickly, lowering his eyes. "Yes, sir".
"Tell that bastard of a friend of mine that we’re coming," Rudra said, already turning away. "By the time we land, I want the problem sorted out. And make sure he finds the real culprit behind this."
" You mean,Abhinav sir? " Keshav asked pretending to be confused though he knows exactly who he meant and rudra doesn't have both the mood and time to play these games with him. Instead of giving a response, Rudra walked away, the sound of the academy fading behind him. This was just another mess to clean up—but he couldn’t deny that something had changed.
Something he wasn’t ready to admit.
.•♫•♬•..................•♬•♫•.
Rudra boarded the jet, leaving the chaotic academy and everything it stirred within him behind. As the engines roared to life and the jet soared into the sky, he watched Varanasi grow smaller beneath him, fading into the distance. He was flying far away from the place that disturbed his stillness, hoping to never return.
But life always has a cruel way of binding us to the very things we wished to escape. It was in those things—those unwanted disruptions—that destiny often found its grip, forcing us to confront what we feared most.
Rudra’s eyes narrowed as the city disappeared from view. He pushed the thoughts of her from his mind, focusing instead on what lay ahead in Mumbai. He would handle the problem waiting for him there. And as for Varanasi… he hoped he never had to set foot there again.
But this is life we're talking about
"The more we run from something, the tighter it's grip becomes, until what we try to leave behind is the very thing that pulls us back".
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