Her fingers curled around the gun. Cold. Heavy. Alive with choices.
Kabir didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. He just watched her — waiting not as a king, but as a man… uncertain.
Alina smiled, sure she had already won.
“Careful, Meher,” she said. “Once you kill for him, you can’t ever go back.”
Meher turned to her, voice calm. “I was never going back.”
The shot rang out like thunder.
Alina’s eyes widened — one step, two — before her knees buckled and her body hit the floor. Still. Silent.
Kabir didn’t move for a moment.
Then slowly… he stepped forward and knelt beside the body.
“She would’ve kept coming,” Meher said, lowering the gun.
He looked up at her. “You didn’t kill for me.”
“No,” she said softly. “I killed for myself.”
Kabir stood, walked toward her. He took the gun from her hand but didn’t drop it.
“Now you’ve crossed it,” he said. “The line.”
“I crossed it the day I married you.”
Their faces were inches apart. Her blood still hot. His eyes unreadable.
“She’s dead,” Meher whispered. “And I’m still here.”
“You’re not just here,” Kabir murmured. “You’re mine. In blood now.”
He pulled her into him, and this kiss wasn’t lust.
It was war.
Victory.
And damnation, wrapped in silk.
Because Meher had taken a life—
And she’d never feel clean again.
Write a comment ...