⚠Mention of Rape, abuse and violence⚠

Aashi's POV

The engine of my Lamborghini Revuelto, sleek and black like the night itself, purred beneath my fingers as I gripped the wheel, my foot pressing down on the accelerator. The city lights blurred past me in streaks of gold and red, the streets of Italy humming with life, oblivious to the storm about to be unleashed.

Tonight, I wasn't just hunting.

I was delivering justice—the kind that didn't come with laws and trials. The kind that came with blood.

(Please press that star on bottom, hehehe)

Vikram Chauhan's right-hand man—Amit Sethi. A monster in human skin. A rapist. A murderer. A man who had once laughed as my mother screamed, as my father bled to death on the cold floor.

And tonight, he would pay.

I pulled up in front of Aurora Club, one of the most exclusive underground lounges in Milan, known for catering to the filth of the underworld. I stepped out, the heels of my Louboutin stilettos clicking against the pavement, my form-hugging black silk dress slipping over my curves like liquid darkness.

Heads turned as I walked in—men pausing mid-drink, conversations dying in throats.

I ignored them all.

I had only one target tonight.

Amit Sethi sat in the VIP section, surrounded by women—young, fragile, their eyes empty. A few of them had bruises peeking from beneath their dresses. Bastard.

I slid onto the barstool, ordering a Macallan 25, knowing damn well the scent of expensive whiskey and the allure of a mysterious woman would draw him in.

It didn't take long.

Within minutes, I felt his presence beside me—overpowering cologne, the heavy weight of entitlement in his stance.

"Didn't expect to see a goddess in this hellhole," he murmured, leaning in, his fingers grazing my arm.

I turned to him with a slow, sultry smile. "Maybe I like danger."

His grin widened, sharp and predatory. "Oh, sweetheart, you're in the right place."

I forced a soft laugh, tilting my head in feigned interest. "Maybe you can show me just how dangerous you are."

His eyes darkened, lust dripping from his gaze. "My pleasure."

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Author's POV

She played her role well. A soft smile. A brush of fingers against his arm. A tilt of her head as if she were impressed by his power. He fell for it easily, inviting her to sit beside him, his hands already wandering.

It disgusted her. But patience was key.

After a few drinks, whispered promises, and a seductive glance, she leaned in, lips grazing his ear.

"Let's go somewhere... private," she purred.

His dark eyes gleamed with sick excitement. Without hesitation, he grabbed her wrist and led her toward the private suites in the back of the club.

The moment they entered the dimly lit room, he turned, pushing her against the wall, his hands roaming eagerly.

Big mistake.

With a deadly smile, she slid a small blade from her thigh strap and slashed across his chest. He stumbled back, groaning in pain, confusion flickering in his eyes before fear settled in.

"What the—"

She didn't give him time to react. A swift kick to his knee made him collapse, and before he could call for help, she slammed his head against the wall, knocking him out.

Hours later, he woke up, shackled to a chair in a dark, abandoned warehouse—her personal chamber of retribution. The cold metal bit into his flesh, and the scent of dried blood lingered in the air.

Aashi stood before him, no longer the seductive woman from the club, but Dead Rose, the assassin feared across the underworld. Dressed in combat black, her gloved hands flexed around a dagger, her expression void of humanity.

Amit struggled against his restraints, panic settling in. "Who the fuck are you?" he growled, though his voice wavered.

She stepped closer, tilting her head. "You don't remember me?" Her voice was laced with dark amusement. "Then let me remind you."

She sliced the dagger across his thigh, not deep enough to kill—but enough to make him scream.

"You were there that night," she whispered, crouching in front of him, her eyes burning with unrelenting fury. "The night my family was slaughtered. You touched my mother. You laughed when my father was dying."

His eyes widened in realization, but before he could speak, she drove the blade deeper into his flesh.

"Do you know what makes me different?" she mused, watching him writhe in pain. "Unlike you, I don't need to kill immediately. I can break you, tear you apart, and then heal you, only to do it all over again."

With a sharp nail, she dragged a cut across her palm. Blood welled, and she pressed it against his wound. The moment it made contact, his flesh knitted together, the pain fading. His breathing turned erratic.

"What... the fuck?" he gasped, staring at his mended leg in horror.

Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "A gift... from the same monsters you worked for."

And then, the real torture began.

She carved into his skin, breaking bones, slicing tendons—only to heal him seconds later. Again and again. His screams echoed through the warehouse, but no one would come. No one would save him.

By the time she was done, his voice was gone, hoarse from endless cries of agony. His body trembled, a broken shell of the man he once was.

Aashi leaned in close, her lips grazing his ear. "This... is mercy compared to what you deserve," she whispered, and with one final, brutal movement, she ripped his tongue out, letting his gurgled chokes be the last sounds he ever made.

She left his mutilated corpse hanging from the ceiling like a grotesque piece of art—a message to Vikram Chauhan.

Dead Rose was coming.

And she would not stop until she had drowned his entire empire in blood.

______________________________

Aashi's car roared through the empty streets, its sleek black body slicing through the darkness like a phantom. Aashi's grip on the steering wheel was tight, her knuckles white. The scent of blood still clung to her, metallic and sharp, but she didn't care. The rush of vengeance still burned in her veins, intoxicating, satisfying.

She had sent a message tonight—one Vikram Chauhan wouldn't ignore.

But as she neared the estate, a new emotion began to settle beneath her skin—annoyance.

Because she knew he would be waiting.

As she pulled through the towering iron gates, she spotted several of her brother's men stationed outside, their expressions tight, their postures tense. They were waiting for her, for their only mafia princess.

She smirked. Of course, they were.

The moment she parked, heavy footsteps echoed from the grand entrance of the mansion. She barely had time to step out before a powerful grip clamped around her wrist, yanking her forward.

"Where the fuck were you?"

The cold, furious voice of her elder brother sliced through the air.

Aashi met his glare with indifference, her gaze unreadable under the dim estate lights. He stood before her, Abhiyansh Singhania, the King of Italy's underworld, his face a mask of barely restrained rage.

She had seen him angry before. Hell, she had seen him merciless. But right now? This was different.

"Out," she answered simply, yanking her wrist free from his grasp.

Abhiyansh's jaw clenched. "Do you think this is a game, Aashi? Do you think I don't know what you've done?"

She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Hmm... You'll have to be more specific, big brother. I've done a lot of things."

His dark eyes flashed dangerously. "You went after Amit Sethi."

Aashi smirked. "Oh? And how would you know that?"

Abhiyansh exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. "Because his mutilated corpse is all over the news, Aashi!" He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "And because Vikram Chauhan's men have already started searching for the one who did it!"

Aashi shrugged, completely unfazed. "Good. Let them come."

His fury snapped.

"You are not untouchable, Aashi!" he snarled, gripping her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I have spent the last year trying to bring you back, now trying to keep you safe, and the first thing you do is put a fucking target on your back? Do you have any idea how dangerous Vikram's men are?"

Aashi's expression darkened, and the deadliest smile curved her lips.

"Do they have any idea how dangerous I am?"

Abhiyansh inhaled sharply, his hands tightening on her shoulders. "That's not the point, Aashi."

She shook her head, stepping back, her voice turning ice-cold. "Then what is the point, Bhai? That I should sit here like a helpless little sister while the same bastards who destroyed our family roam free? That I should pretend I'm just some lost girl who miraculously made it back home?"

Abhiyansh's fists clenched, his entire body tense.

"You don't understand," he muttered.

Aashi scoffed. "Oh, I understand perfectly. You're scared. You don't want me to go after them because you think I'll get myself killed. But here's the thing, brother"—she leaned in, voice low, threatening—"I died a long time ago. And if you think you can stop me, you're dead wrong."

Abhiyansh stared at her, his heart fucking breaking.

Because he saw it now.

The little sister he had once known—the bright, stubborn girl who used to follow him everywhere, who used to hug him every morning—was gone.

In her place stood Dead Rose.

A woman who had become a nightmare, a ghost of vengeance. A woman who had no fear, no restraint.

And it killed him.

Because he had failed.

Failed to protect her. Failed to save her from the monsters that turned her into this.

His jaw tightened, but his voice was quieter when he finally spoke.

"Fine," he muttered. "If this is what you want, then do what you have to do."

Aashi's eyes narrowed. "No threats? No orders to lock me in my room like a fragile doll?"

He exhaled sharply. "Would it even work?"

A dark chuckle escaped her lips. "No."

He looked at her for a long moment before shaking his head. "At least... don't get yourself killed," he muttered, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

For the first time, something flickered in Aashi's expression. Something almost... human.

She gave him a small, rare smile. "I won't."

And with that, she walked past him, disappearing into the mansion, leaving him standing there—a brother who loved her more than anything, but could no longer reach her.

She was too far gone.

And there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming.

The estate gates opened, and a sleek Rolls-Royce Phantom rolled in, its polished black exterior gleaming under the golden estate lights. The moment the car came to a halt, the guards straightened, recognizing who had arrived.

The queen of the Singhania household had returned.

Mihika stepped out first, her long midnight-blue saree hugging her elegant frame. There was an effortless grace in the way she moved, a silent authority in the way she held her head high. But beneath that poised exterior, her heart was pounding.

She had heard everything.

From the moment Aashi resurfaced to the brutal death of Amit Sethi, Mihika had been informed. And though her heart ached for her little sister, she knew that the girl who had once called her "Dii" with warmth was no longer the same.

Aashi was a storm now.

A beautiful, deadly storm.

Mihika's gaze shifted slightly as a second figure stepped out of the car behind her, his towering presence demanding attention.

Avyukt Raisa.

The man who rules Rajasthan and the underworld alike. A king disguised as a ghost.

His sharp features were masked in cold indifference, but his eyes—those dark, piercing orbs—held only one purpose. Searching.

For her.

For the only woman he had ever loved.

But she wasn't there to greet him.

Of course, she wasn't.

Avyukt exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. The moment he had heard of her return, something inside him had shifted. A storm had raged in his chest, a mix of relief, fury, and something too painful to name.

He had spent years in the shadows, pulling strings, making silent kills, cutting down threats before they could ever touch her.

But none of that mattered.

Because when she needed him most, he wasn't there.

Mihika turned, sensing his turmoil, but before she could say anything, Abhiyansh appeared at the entrance of the mansion.

The moment his eyes landed on his wife, the rage that had clouded him moments ago melted away.

"Mihika..."

She barely had time to react before her husband strode forward and pulled her into his arms.

"You should've told me you were coming back," he murmured against her hair, holding her tightly.

Mihika smiled softly, wrapping her arms around him. "I wanted to surprise you."

Avyukt, standing behind them, remained silent. His gaze lifted, sweeping over the grand entrance of the estate, his heartbeat heavy, aching.

Where is she?

But before he could even think of looking for her, a voice—sharp, cold, and laced with unspoken emotions—cut through the air.

"Didn't expect you to show up."

His entire body froze.

Slowly, he turned.

And there she was.

Aashi.

Standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in all black, her arms crossed, her piercing eyes locked onto his like a dagger through the heart.

She looked unaffected. Detached. Like he was just another face in the crowd.

And for the first time in years, Avyukt felt fear.

Not for himself.

For her.

Because the girl he had once known—the girl who had once loved him—was gone.

And the woman standing before him?

She had buried that love in the depths of her vengeance.

______________________________

Aashi stood at the top of the grand staircase, her cold gaze locked onto the man she once knew—the man who was supposed to be her safe place.

But nothing about him felt safe anymore.

Not the way his sharp, calculating eyes bore into her like he was searching for something long lost. Not the way his body tensed as if he was restraining himself from closing the unbearable distance between them.

And certainly not the way her own heart twisted at the sight of him.

Avyukt.

Her childhood best friend.

Her first love.

A name that once brought her comfort. But now? Now, it was just another reminder of a past long buried.

Her lips curled into a smirk, mocking. "Didn't expect you to show up."

His expression remained unreadable, but the flicker of something—something deep, something pained—passed through his gaze before it vanished.

"I had to see it for myself," he finally spoke, his voice dark, controlled. "If the girl I knew still existed."

She laughed. A hollow, humorless sound. "You're wasting your time then."

The air between them crackled, a tension so thick that even Mihika and Abhiyansh, standing just a few feet away, felt its weight.

Mihika frowned, looking between them before gently placing a hand on her husband's arm. "Let's give them a moment."

Abhiyansh hesitated. He didn't trust anyone around his sister—not even Avyukt. But Mihika's grip tightened slightly, a silent assurance. With a slow nod, he stepped back, leading Mihika toward the sitting area.

Now, it was just them.

Aashi and Avyukt.

A battlefield of unspoken words and broken pasts.

Avyukt took a step forward, slow and deliberate. "Where were you tonight?"

Aashi arched a brow, feigning indifference. "Why do you care?"

His jaw clenched. "You think I don't?"

"You shouldn't." Her voice was cutting. "Whatever history we had died a long time ago. And you? You're just another ghost of my past."

Something in his chest twisted at her words, but he didn't let it show. Instead, his gaze sharpened, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "You killed Amit Sethi."

Aashi smirked, tilting her head. "And?"

"You didn't just kill him." He stepped closer, towering over her. "You tore him apart."

She didn't flinch. Didn't cower.

Instead, she leaned in slightly, her voice a mere whisper. "He deserved worse."

Avyukt exhaled sharply, his fists clenching. He had seen what she had done.

He had spent years in the underworld, witnessing the worst kinds of deaths. But Aashi?

She hadn't just killed Amit.

She had tortured him in ways that sent shivers even through the darkest of men. And that meant one thing—

She was too far gone.

"You're making enemies, Aashi."

She smirked, taking a step back. "Good. Let them come."

He grabbed her wrist before she could turn away, his grip firm but not painful. Just enough to force her to look at him.

Her body stiffened at the contact.

A dangerous mistake.

In a flash, she twisted her arm, breaking free, her other hand moving to strike—

But he caught it.

Their bodies were too close now, her breath fanning against his collar, his grip strong, unwavering.

"You're not the only one who's changed," he murmured, voice dark.

She stilled. Just for a fraction of a second.

But he caught it.

He always did.

"Let go," she whispered, though her voice lacked its usual venom.

His hold loosened, but his eyes stayed on her, searching, as if trying to reach something buried deep inside.

"You can pretend all you want," he said lowly. "Act like you don't care. Like you don't feel anything."

She held his gaze, her expression unreadable.

"But I know you, Aashi." His voice softened just slightly. "And I know you're still in there."

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, just a moment, the walls around her cracked.

But then she ripped her hand away, stepping back as if scorched.

Her expression hardened. "You're wrong."

And with that, she turned on her heel, walking away, leaving him standing there with the ghosts of what they once were.

______________________________

ʕ´•ᴥ•`ʔ

3K words

They finally mettttt... Do vote and comment