The temple doors slammed open.
Gunfire shattered the silence.
Kabir stormed in, blood on his hands, rage in his eyes, and death following every step.
Vikrant turned his weapon—
Kabir shot first.
One clean shot through the heart. No hesitation.
Rehan blinked. “You’re too late.”
Kabir’s gun shifted. “Not for her.”
Rehan grabbed Meher, gun to her head. “One move, she dies.”
“She dies,” Kabir said coldly, “you die slower.”
Meher coughed, pain radiating from her shoulder, but her eyes—fierce, focused—met Kabir’s.
Now.
She slammed her heel down on Rehan’s foot, twisted, drove her elbow into his gut—
Kabir fired.
Rehan fell, eyes wide.
Shock. Blood. Silence.
Meher dropped to her knees, dizzy.
Kabir was there before she hit the ground, arms catching her like a vow.
“You came,” she breathed.
“I will always come,” he whispered, holding her tight. “Even if it means coming back from hell.”
She smiled through the pain. “Took you long enough.”
He kissed her forehead, then her lips—desperate, reverent.
“You saved yourself,” he murmured.
“No,” she said, weak but proud. “I saved us.”
And as the temple burned behind them,
Meher and Kabir walked into the light—
Not as prisoner and captor.
Not as queen and butcher.
But as two hearts still beating—
For each other.
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