Meher walked into the warehouse dressed in all black—leather gloves, hair tied back, no jewelry except the velvet choker still fastened around her neck.
The men stopped speaking when they saw her.
She didn’t wait for Kabir.
She walked to the center of the floor, where a young man was on his knees, bloodied and bound. A traitor.
“This one stole from your accounts,” Vikrant said, watching her.
“No,” Meher replied coolly, eyes on the man. “He stole from me.”
Kabir arrived moments later, surprised to see her already in control. He said nothing—just leaned against a wall and observed.
“You have ten seconds,” she said to the traitor. “One truth. One chance.”
The man trembled. “It was Alina… she paid me… to plant fake ledgers.”
Meher’s eyes narrowed. Alina. Of course.
She turned to the men around her. “This is what happens when you let ghosts back in.”
Then, with a nod, she walked away.
No threats.
No drama.
Just power.
Kabir caught up with her outside.
“You’re making enemies,” he warned.
She met his gaze. “Good. It means I’m finally a threat.”
He smiled faintly. “You were always a threat, Meher. You just didn’t believe it.”
She stepped close, voice steady. “And now?”
His expression darkened, softened, cracked. “Now I believe it too much.”
Because Meher was no longer his pawn.
She was a queen.
And queens didn’t bow—not even to kings.
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