The week had taken on a strange calm. Dhruv was always there before her—silent, unreadable, but constant. Shruti no longer had to wonder if he'd show up. She'd grown used to his presence, even if their words were few. Their silences weren't awkward anymore. They felt safe.
That day, the sun was gentle outside, and the library's reading room felt unusually stuffy. After a long hour of discussing yet another dry case study, Shruti stood and stretched with a sigh.
"Coffee?" she offered, already gathering her things.
"No," Dhruv said flatly.
She gave a small smile. "Saying no won't stop me."
He didn't respond.
Shruti stepped out into the open, the crisp air brushing her face. The café just beyond the library had a long line, and she waited with quiet patience. The world felt calm, ordinary. She liked it that way. Two warm cups in her hand, she turned back toward the library.
But as she took the shortcut along the quiet path behind the building—lined with trees and barely frequented—something shifted. Subtle, but enough to still her steps.
A figure suddenly stepped out from behind a tree, right into her path.
Startled, Shruti gasped—and the coffee in her hand sloshed out, splashing right across the front of his shirt.
"I—oh god, I'm so sorry!" she stammered, taking a step back.
His expression twisted.
"Well," he said, slow and mocking. "Look what your clumsy hands did."
"I didn't mean to—really, I'm sorry." She stepped back, heart racing.
"You've got clumsy hands," he said coldly. "Maybe someone should teach you how to carry something properly."
"I said I was sorry," Shruti replied, holding the coffee tighter, trying to step around him.
Another man appeared on her left. Then another behind her. Her pulse quickened.
The first man stepped into her path again. "Sorry ain't enough when someone ruins your day, sweetheart."
"Especially when it's someone like you." One of them snorted. "All dressed up, clean books, perfect little smile. You people think you own the place."
"I didn't mean anything—please, just let me go," she said, voice faltering.
The third guy leaned in, his eyes sliding over her face. "What's the rush? Waiting for someone? That quiet guy who's always around you?"
Shruti took a step back, her heart pounding, but a hand shot out and gripped her wrist hard, fingers digging into her skin. She gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her tighter.
"Let me go," she cried out, voice shaking. "You're hurting me!"
"Hurting you?" the man sneered, pulling her closer. "Didn't your lover ever hold you tighter than this?"
"I'm not—he's not—just let me go, please!" Her voice was thin, desperate.
Another man stepped in, eyes narrowed. "You walk around like you're untouchable. Smiling like you've got the world in your palm just because someone powerful looks at you."
"I never did anything to you," she whispered, struggling against the grip.
"But you did, sweetheart," the first one growled. "You made people look at us like we're nothing. Like we're not good enough for a girl like you."
The third leaned in closer. "Tell me, what are you giving him in return for all that attention? What exactly do you offer when no one's watching?"
The words sliced through her like blades. Her breath caught, and tears welled in her eyes.
"Please stop—don't say things like that—"
"Why not?" he mocked. "Isn't that what you are? His personal toy? His quiet little secret?"
Shruti's tears spilled, her face burning in humiliation. "No! I'm not like that!"
But they weren't listening.
The one holding her squeezed tighter, and she cried out. "Think he'll come for you?" he asked in a low hiss. "Think he'll fight for you? He won't even matter once we're done. You'll be too ashamed to even look at him."
With a sudden burst of fear and fury, she shoved him back, trying to run, but he recovered quickly, grabbing her hair and yanking her backward. She screamed as she stumbled, her scalp burning from the force.
"Don't you run from me!" he snapped. "Not after pretending to be so pure while crawling into his lap like some goddess."
She twisted and cried out, her chest heaving, fear and shame mingling until she couldn't tell which hurt more.
They yanked Shruti by her hair, dragging her back as she tried to push the leader and escape. A sharp cry escaped her lips as pain seared through her scalp. Her wrists, already bruised and raw from the ropes, throbbed with every tug.
"Careful with her!" one of the goons snapped. "We need her alive."
"She's the bait, remember?" another murmured. "To pull in Druve Prathap…"
Shruti didn't hear them — she was too busy struggling to free herself, her breath ragged, her body trembling from exhaustion. The leader, a man with a cruel smile and sharper eyes, watched her dispassionately.
"Do you think it'll work?" one of the younger goons whispered, uncertain. "What if he doesn't come?"
The leader scoffed. "He will. And if you've heard half the stories about Druve Prathap, you'll know he's not someone to take lightly. But right now—" he smirked as he grabbed Shruti's arm, "—he's just a man with a weakness."
As Shruti thrashed again, one of the goons raised his hand to hit her.
"Try touching her," a cold voice echoed through the air.
Everything stilled.
Druve Prathap stood at the entrance like death incarnate. His eyes weren't just angry — they were terrifying. Cold. Calculated. Deadly. And fixed on Shruti's wrist — on the raw red marks, on how tightly they were holding her. His fists clenched at his sides, blood roaring in his ears.
The leader grinned. "Well, well… Look who's here."
Druve didn't flinch. His eyes locked on the leader.
"You've crossed a line."
The leader laughed, cocking his head. "So, the great Druve Prathap does have a weakness. You look so helpless right now. I almost pity you."
"Let her go," Druve said, voice razor-sharp.
The leader pulled Shruti closer, holding a knife against her throat. A single drop of blood rolled down from where the tip grazed her skin.
Druve didn't move — but his jaw tightened. His silence screamed louder than any threat.
The goons shifted nervously. The older ones knew what that silence meant.
"But he won't do anything," the leader said with a smug sneer, keeping the blade against Shruti's throat. "He knows she's the only thing keeping him from tearing us apart. He's like a snake, sure—but right now, one with its fangs ripped out."
Shruti whimpered, her eyes locked on Druve, silently begging him not to do anything reckless. He didn't blink.
"Let's see how far you'll go for her, Druve Prathap." The leader chuckled, then added mockingly, "How about… kneel?"
Shruti's lips parted in horror. "No! Druve, don't—!"
But he was already lowering himself without hesitation, knees hitting the rough ground.
Gasps echoed among the goons.
The leader's laughter echoed off the alley walls. "Did you see that? The legend himself. Kneeling. I never thought I'd live to see the day Druve Prathap looked so… harmless."
Druve's eyes never left Shruti. His entire focus was on her — the tremble in her lips, the drop of blood on her neck, the tears threatening to spill.
"Now beg," the leader demanded. "Bend your head to the floor and beg me to let her go."
Another drop of blood trickled from Shruti's throat. She gasped.
"I said beg!"
Druve bowed his head low to the dirt and said, voice calm but weighted with storm, "Let her go. I'll do anything you ask."
The leader stepped forward. "Anything, huh?" His eyes gleamed. "Then crawl."
Shruti shook her head, tears slipping free. "Please, don't… Don't do this, Druve…"
But he did. With quiet dignity and complete surrender, Druve began to crawl toward the man holding everything he cared about.
The goons were silent, frozen in shock.
Then a bat swung down from behind.
Druve turned just in time to catch it mid-air, gripping it with his bare hand.
The goon flinched, fear flooding his face — but the leader tightened his grip on Shruti, making her cry out in pain.
Druve's eyes flicked to her, and he slowly released the bat, letting it fall to the ground.
"Hit him," the leader ordered. "I've heard he never bleeds in a fight. Let's see the ground soaked in Druve Prathap's blood."
The first strike came hard, crashing into Druve's temple. Blood sprayed. Shruti screamed.
The second came like a thunderclap, making Druve spit blood, but he still crawled forward — unwavering, silent.
"No! Please stop!" Shruti cried. "He's not involved in this! Let him go!"
But no one listened.
Shruti's voice trembled as she shouted again, "Druve, please! Just go… please! I'll be okay — just leave!"
He lifted his head slightly, his eye already swelling, blood dripping from his temple — and looked straight at her.
"Never."
There was something about the way he said it — quiet, final, like an unshakable vow.
The leader let out a loud bark of laughter.
A steel rod was raised — another blow incoming.
Something inside Shruti snapped.
She turned, twisting violently. The leader tried to tighten his grip, but he hesitated — afraid of accidentally slitting her throat. That second was all she needed.
Shruti bit down on his wrist, hard, tasting blood, then slammed her heel into his shin with every ounce of strength she had. He howled and stumbled.
She shoved him back and ran.
"Stop her!" he shouted. "If she escapes, we're dead!"
But it was too late.
Shruti's foot slipped on the alley floor — and she fell into Druve's arms.
A sob broke from her chest as she clung to him. "I'm sorry… I dragged you into this… I hurt you…"
Druve held her tightly, cupping her face with one hand, checking her wounds with the other.
"It's okay," he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair, his voice rough and broken. "You're fine now. I've got you. You're safe."
His arms encased her like armor, one hand gently rubbing her back, over and over, as if anchoring himself to the fact she was alive, right here.
"It's okay. It's just a superficial wound," he murmured against her hair. "I'll be fine. Are you hurt? Let me see…"
"I'm sorry," she cried again. "This is all my fault."
"No," he said instantly. "This has nothing to do with you."
Shruti assumed he meant the attackers were to blame — but he wasn't talking about them. He blamed himself. For everything. For dragging her into his world.
But he didn't explain — not yet.
The goons were frozen. Watching Druve cradle Shruti like she was the only thing keeping him breathing.
"He doesn't even care we're here…" one muttered, shaken.
They raised their weapons again.
But Druve's hand shot out — catching a rod mid-air.
He rose slowly, gently shifting Shruti behind him.
"You wanted to see the real Druve Prathap, didn't you?" he asked quietly."Let me grant your wish."
The alley shook with the sound of vengeance.
Druve moved like a storm — precise, brutal, unstoppable. Bones cracked. Screams echoed. He didn't stop until the leader was on the ground, bloodied and barely breathing.
And even then, Druve kept going — fist after fist after fist.
"Druve!" Shruti cried, throwing herself between him and the man. "You'll kill him — stop!"
Her hands gripped his shoulders, her eyes pleading.
He froze. Chest heaving. Covered in blood — some his, most not.
His arms wrapped around her again as he fell to his knees, holding her close.
Only her voice could reach him.
Only her presence could stop the monster.
Only Shruti.
****
Unseen by Druve or Shruti, a tiny black lens blinked from the crack in the nearby wall — recording everything. Blood. Desperation. Weakness.
Several blocks away, behind layers of steel and shadows, a large screen played the footage in real time.
A man sat watching, leaned forward in his leather chair, elbows on his knees, face half-lit by the glow of the screen.
His lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.
"Finally… Druve Prathap," he murmured, voice like a hiss through broken glass. "I've got your weakness. So this is how I break you."
Behind him, a door opened. A subordinate stepped in, hesitant.
"We couldn't hold him, sir. We… failed. He tore through our men like—"
"I know," the man interrupted, not looking away from the screen. "I knew it would fail. It wasn't a real attempt."
He stood, walking toward the screen where Shruti cried, holding a bleeding Druve.
"This… was a test."
He tapped the screen lightly, right over Shruti's face.
"To see how far he'd go for her. How deep she's carved into him. And now I know—he'd burn the world for this girl. Which means... I can finally have my perfect revenge ".
He turned toward the subordinate, eyes gleaming.
"What was the girl's name again?"
The subordinate swallowed. "Shruti."
The man smirked. "Shruti… we'll meet soon."
"But sir," the subordinate said cautiously, "after this… he'll never leave her side. Protection around her will be airtight. It won't be as easy as today."
A pause.
Then the man chuckled. Low. Menacing.
"If you don't get a chance…"
He leaned closer, voice chilling.
"You create one."
And the screen faded to black.