RANVIJAY VARDHANA POV

I slipped the wireless earpiece into my ear as the bus pulled into the station and pressed the call button. It connected almost immediately.

"Ji, Hukum sa." Jorah's voice was as calm as ever.

"Sector Three ki rescue team pahunch gayi?" I asked. (Has the rescue team reached Sector Three?)

"Ji. Aur do teams raste mein hain." (Yes. And two more teams are on their way.)

"Theek hai."

I watched her climb down from the Jeep.

She grabbed the bag of her clean clothes, turned around, and walked toward the bus. I watched the bus slowly fill with passengers.

Then she muttered.

"Kusat bhoot kahin ka.... itna ghamand dikha raha hai jaise khud mehnat karke kamaya ho. Lootera!" (What a stubborn, arrogant ghost.... showing off as if he actually earned it himself. Thief!)

She walked away. The bus driver began shouting for passengers, honking the loud horn. Passengers hurried inside.

My hand, still holding the money, froze in mid-air.

Lootera? My jaw tightened.

The Crown Prince of Aravati.

A man whose ancestors had ruled these lands for generations. Who owned more land than most districts. Had just been called.... A highway dacoit. By a girl carrying her entire life inside a plastic bag.

I didn't even get a chance to process the sheer absurdity of her insult before the earpiece hidden in my right ear crackled to life.

Very cautiously.... a voice spoke into my ear.

"....Hukum sa?"

I closed my eyes. I slowly brought my hand up and pinched the bridge of my nose. Mahadev.

Over the secure military frequency, Jorah cleared his throat. It sounded suspiciously like a man fighting for his life against a laugh.

"....Kya maine sahi suna?" (Did I hear that correctly?)

I didn't answer. I just continued glaring at the furious, tiny girl. In the background, I could hear the faint sound of coughing. The royal guards were definitely trying to cover up their laughter.

"....Kisi ne abhi...." Jorah's voice was actually shaking now. "....Aapko lootera kaha?" (Someone just called.... you a thief?)

My jaw locked. "Jorah."

"Maaf kijiyega, Hukum," (Forgive me, Your Highness) Jorah replied, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "I am just confirming the threat level. Should I send the royal helicopter, or are you planning to escape with the stolen goods on a stolen bicycle?"

He was definitely smiling. I could hear the smile.

"Jorah," I warned, my voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper.

Jorah wisely decided to swallow his laughter. Out loud, at least.

"Hukum sa...." he began carefully, trying to regain his military composure. "If you require backup-"

I spoke before he could finish.

"Call kaat dijiye, Jorah."

(End the call, Jorah.)

"But, Hukum-"

"Abhi." (Now.)

"....Ji."

The line disconnected immediately.

Smart man. If he had stayed on the line for one more second, he would have been transferred to guard duty at the borders of Aravati for the rest of his life.

I pulled the earpiece out, dropped it into my pocket, and slowly looked back down at the girl.

A strange heat crept up my neck, right beneath the fresh bandage on my skin.

Still.... I said nothing.

Before she could step inside, I walked past her, straight to the bus driver. Without a word, I placed the money into his rough hand.

I leaned closer so only he could hear me. My voice dropped into something dangerously calm.

"Yeh inka kiraya hai." The driver nodded quickly, counting the cash.

I continued. "Aur dhyan se suniye." (And listen carefully.)

His face immediately stiffened. He looked up at me. "Inhe sheher tak sahi salamat pahunchana apki zimmedari hai. She reaches safely. Personally see to it."

He swallowed nervously. I looked straight into his eyes, letting him see that I was not joking. The color drained from his face completely. He nodded so fast it looked painful.

"J-Ji.... samajh gaya, saab." (Y-Yes.... understood, sir.)

Only then did I step back.

She had already found a seat by the window, looking outside, absentmindedly holding onto the shawl I had forgotten to take back from her.

The engine roared. The bus slowly pulled away from the stop.

For one brief second, our eyes met through the dusty glass window. Then, the bus disappeared into the thick morning mist. I stood by the door, watching the dark, empty highway.

The rain had started to pick up again, hitting the heavy, bulletproof frame of my military Jeep.

I stood there long after the red tail lights vanished. Only when the road became completely empty did I pull out my phone and dial again.

He answered before the second ring. "Ji, Hukum sa."

Jorah's voice was perfectly professional. He spoke as if the absolute disaster of our previous conversation hadn't happened. Good. Perhaps he values his life.

I kept my eyes on the empty, wet road. "Bus number 402."

A brief shift in the background noise on his end. Jorah was already typing it into the royal intelligence network. "Ji?"

"Pata karo ye bus kahan rukti hai." (Find out where this bus stops.)

His typing paused.

"Aur usme jo ladki baithi hai...." I leaned against the cold metal of the Jeep, my voice dropping quieter, almost to a whisper to blend with the rain. "....jab tak woh apni manzil tak sahi salamat na pahunch jaye.... us par nazar rakho." (And the girl sitting inside it.... until she safely reaches her destination.... keep an eye on her.)

Jorah immediately understood the order. "Ji, Hukum sa."

Then exactly as expected, he didn't hang up.

"....Ek baat poochun, Hukum sa?" (May I ask you something, sir?)

I closed my eyes. I already knew I wouldn't like the question. "Poochiye." (Ask.)

"Aap itni chinta kyu kar rahe hain us ladki ki?" (Why are you worrying so much about that girl?) Jorah didn't wait for my silence. He pressed forward carefully, listing the facts like a report.

"Kal raat usne aap par khanjar se hamla kiya. Aur aaj.... aap uske liye ek sadak-chhap bus tak ruk gaye. Uska kiraya diya. Aur ab uski safety ka intezam bhi kar rahe hain."

(Last night she attacked you with a dagger. And today.... you waited for her by a street bus. Paid her fare. And now you are arranging for her protection.)

I stared at the puddles forming on the asphalt. He was right. It made absolutely no logical sense. The Crown Prince of Aravati did not act as a guardian angel for chaotic runaways.

Jorah sighed softly over the line. "Ye.... aap jaise nahi lag rahe." (This.... doesn't sound like you.)

Finally, I answered.

"Woh criminal nahi hai." (She is not a criminal.) I thought about the way her small hands had shaken when she held the dagger. The way her eyes had widened in pure terror.

"Sirf dari hui thi." (She was just scared.)

Jorah stayed quiet for a long moment. I thought he had finally understood and let it go.

Then, in typical Jorah fashion, he completely ruined the serious moment.

"Waise...."

My jaw locked. Here we go.

"....agar woh aapse dobara mili...." He laughed softly, the sound crackling through the earpiece. "....toh shayad is baar lootera ki jagah daku kahe." (....if she meets you again.... maybe this time she'll call you a bandit instead of a thief.)

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a heavy, exhausted breath.

"Jorah."

"Ji?"

"Chup rehna bhi ek kala hoti hai." (Staying quiet is also an art.)

He chuckled, entirely unafraid of my threat. "Seekh raha hoon, Hukum sa." (I'm learning, Your Highness.)

Liar. Complete liar.

I ended the call without another word. Just as I lowered the phone from my ear, a cold drop of rainwater hit my screen, right over the dark reflection.

I wiped the screen, climbed into the back of the armored Jeep, and slammed the heavy door shut.

I looked up. The sky above the mountains had turned a dark, angry grey. The storm that had been threatening us all morning was finally breaking.

By afternoon, it had turned into a nightmare. I was standing knee-deep in freezing, muddy floodwater, personally pulling terrified people onto rescue vehicles. The rain was lashing against my face, soaking my clothes, but I didn't stop moving.

Nearly an hour later, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Jorah.

I answered it while holding an umbrella over an old man, helping him climb into a military rescue truck.

"Ji?" I barked over the sound of the rain.

"Hukum sa...."

His voice sounded different. It wasn't teasing anymore. It was tight. Serious.

"Woh ladki...." (That girl....)

My hand paused. The umbrella slipped a little. "...."

"Bus raste mein hi ruk gayi. Flood ki wajah se." (The bus stopped halfway. Because of the flood.)

I frowned, my grip tightening on the phone. Lightning flashed brightly across the dark sky.

"Ab woh paas ke gaon mein hai." (She is in a nearby village now.)

I turned my head and looked toward the overflowing river in the distance. My heart gave a painful thud. That village.... it was directly in the path of the worst flooding. It would be underwater in hours.

"I'm going there," I said immediately.

Before I could move, the call crackled loudly. Static filled the speaker.

"Hukum sa.... ek aur baat...." (Your highness.... one more thing....)

The signal started breaking.

"....aapke route pe kuch gaadiyan-" (....on your route, some vehicles-)

The voice completely disappeared into white noise.

Call ended.

I looked at the wet screen. No network. A very bad feeling settled inside my gut. Not just about the flood. About something else.

The rain became even heavier. I left the rescue team and got inside my personal Jeep. The heavy engine started with a deep, angry growl.

The mountain road ahead was almost invisible beneath the sheets of rain. The wipers were working at full speed, but it barely helped.

Unfortunately.... my enemies had also chosen today. I glanced in my rearview mirror and noticed an unfamiliar, massive black SUV following closely behind me in the dark and the large cargo truck parked completely sideways across the narrow mountain road ahead. It blocked the path entirely. There was nowhere to go.

I slowly pressed the brakes. The Jeep slid to a halt in the mud. Silence. Just the heavy drumming of the rain on the roof. Then-

CRACK!

The first bullet shattered the driver's side mirror. Glass exploded into the air, flying right beside my face.

I didn't flinch. Instead, a faint, dark smile touched my lips.

There it is. I had been wondering when they would finally make their move. My hand slipped beneath my seat, wrapping around the cold, heavy metal of my gun.

Another gunshot. Then another.

The windshield cracked into a spiderweb pattern. Rain and broken glass poured into the cabin. Through the ruined window, I saw three men step out of the black SUV.

No. Four.

They moved with perfect balance, holding their weapons steadily despite the storm. Professionals.

I kicked my door open just as the passenger door was yanked open from the outside.

One man lunged toward me with a heavy iron rod. I haven't even drawn my gun yet. I caught his wrist in mid-air and twisted it hard. A loud, sickening crack echoed over the rain. He screamed, dropping the rod.

The second man came from the side with a hunting knife. I stepped back, dodging the blade, and drove my elbow backward directly into his face. His nose shattered, and his body collapsed heavily into the wet mud.

The third man stayed back. Smart. He raised his gun, aiming right at my chest.

Pain exploded through my left shoulder. It felt like burning metal tearing through my flesh. Warm blood immediately started spreading beneath my wet kurta.

I looked down at my bleeding shoulder. The fourth man finally stepped forward. The leader.

His stance was perfectly balanced. His movements were calculated and controlled. He had military training. At last.... someone actually worth fighting.

I raised my head, the rain washing the blood down my arm. I cracked my knuckles.

The brutal fight lasted less than thirty seconds in the pouring rain. Blow after blow, blood mixing with the mud.

But then the earth beneath our feet groaned. It was a deep, terrifying sound.

The floodwaters roaring below had eaten away the foundation of the mountain road. The earth couldn't hold the weight of the trucks and the fighting anymore.

The ground suddenly cracked open right beneath my boots.

Thick chunks of mud and asphalt began to collapse. For one impossible, terrifying second; everything tilted.

The Jeep. The attackers. The broken road. The dark sky. It all spun wildly out of control.

Then, gravity took over.

The ground gave way completely, and the vehicle, the road, and I plunged straight down into the raging, violent river below.

Cold.

That was the very first thing I felt.

Not the burning pain in my shoulder. Not fear. Just.... freezing, bone-chilling cold.

The muddy river swallowed me whole. Darkness surrounded me. The current was incredibly violent, tossing my body around like a ragdoll. Water rushed into my nose and mouth, dragging me deeper and deeper into the depths.

The bullet wound in my shoulder burned like fire against the freezing water. I tried to swim up, to fight the current, but my body wouldn't obey.

Suddenly, my head struck something hard underwater. A large stone or a piece of the broken road.

A sharp, blinding burst of white pain flashed behind my eyes.

My lungs burned for air.

Then.... the water faded away. Everything went completely black.

MEERA POV

The rain hammered heavily against the tin roof of the school building. The rain outside showed absolutely no sign of calming down. And neither did my terrible luck.

One day. I had only wanted one single day to go right. I just wanted to leave the valley, find a decent job in the city, and start my life over.

Instead.... here I was. Stuck in a flooded village, trapped in a temporary shelter with fifty panicking strangers, and completely clueless about what would happen next.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.

The school hall buzzed with anxious voices. Tired women tried to hush their crying children, while the men paced near the windows, watching the dark, rising water. Outside, the storm only seemed to grow louder and angrier.

Suddenly a man burst through the front door, completely drenched.

"Arre!" he shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

Another voice immediately followed from the doorway. "Nadi ka paani aur badh gaya!" (The river water has risen even more!)

Panic rippled through the room. People grabbed their umbrellas and torches, rushing outside into the pouring rain to see for themselves.

Curiosity got the better of me. Again.

I let out a heavy sigh, pulling the damp shawl tighter around my shoulders, and followed the crowd into the storm.

The river looked absolutely terrifying.

The water had risen far beyond its normal banks. It was like a violent, muddy monster roaring through the valley, looking like it wanted to swallow everything in its path.

The flickering white light from the villager's torch cut through the heavy rain. Suddenly, a man near the edge pointed a shaky finger downstream.

"Dekho!" (Look!)

"Koi hai wahan!" (Someone is there!)

I squinted through the heavy sheets of rain, my heart picking up pace. At first.... I saw nothing but dark water and floating branches. Then.... I saw it. A body.

He was half-submerged in the raging current, his clothes caught on the thick branches of a massive, fallen tree that was stopping him from being swept away entirely.

Without even thinking, my feet moved. I ran.

The wet mud was dangerously slippery. I almost lost my balance and fell twice, but I kept pushing forward. Several villagers were shouting and running right behind me.

The closer we got.... the clearer his face became in the dim torch light. And then my feet stopped dead in the mud.

"....Nahi." (No.)

No. This couldn't be happening.

"Yeh toh wahi bhoot hai!" (This is that same ghost!) I whispered to myself, my eyes wide.

The strange man from the highway. The arrogant man. The suspiciously rich man who threw money around. The thief. The man who had practically force-fed me hot parathas just a few hours ago.

He wasn't moving. Not at all.

Rainwater washed over his pale face, mixing with the dark blood leaking from a cut near his forehead. His left shoulder was stained a deep, terrifying red. His eyes remained firmly shut.

For the very first time since I met him.... he didn't look frightening. He didn't look like an untouchable, arrogant dacoit.

He just looked.... tired. Broken. Strangely young and completely helpless.

Something twisted painfully inside my chest. A strange, heavy ache I didn't want to examine. Before my brain could tell me to walk away, the words ripped out of my throat.

"Jaldi! Madad kijiye!" (Quick! Help me!)

It took four strong villagers to carefully untangle him from the tree branches and pull him out of the freezing, violent river.

He didn't respond to the rough handling. Not a groan. Not a twitch.

As they carried his limp body toward the village, I walked closely beside them in the pouring rain, my eyes glued to his pale face. I was following them without even realizing it.

Why? I had absolutely no answer. I just couldn't turn away.

A few hours later, the chaos had finally settled into a quiet hum.

The village clinic was barely a clinic at all. It was just two tiny, damp rooms with peeling paint and creaky old wooden furniture. But it had one old doctor who moved with a surprising amount of calm confidence.

I stood nervously in the corner, smelling the sharp scent of antiseptic and damp earth.

The old doctor finished carefully wrapping a thick white bandage around his shoulder. Then, he cleaned and stitched the wound near his forehead.

Finally, he wiped his hands on a towel and looked over at me.

"Ghabrane ki baat nahi hai," he said kindly. (There's no need to worry.) "He'll be alright. He just needs rest."

I let out a long, shaky breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. My shoulders dropped in relief. Then.... my eyes fell on the fresh bandage wrapped tightly around his broad shoulder.

"....Yeh?" I pointed hesitantly. "How did he get hurt there?"

The doctor looked down at the shoulder, his expression completely casual.

"Goli chhoo kar nikal gayi." (A bullet grazed him and went through.)

I blinked. Once. Twice.

"....Bullet?" My voice squeaked.

The old doctor nodded as though we were simply discussing the weather outside. "Haan." (Yes.)

Then, without another word, he picked up his medical tray and walked out of the room. He just left. Leaving me completely alone with an unconscious man who apparently got shot.

A bullet. My mind raced. He was definitely a criminal! A mafia don! A smuggler! There was simply no other logical explanation. Normal, everyday people don't just collect bullet wounds on a Tuesday afternoon!

The small clinic room became suffocatingly quiet.

The only sound was the heavy rain continuing to beat against the single glass window. The small kerosene lantern beside his bed flickered gently, casting warm, dancing shadows across his sharp jawline.

I sat near the foot of the bed. I looked at his sleeping face, then looked toward the open door.

I should leave. I really, really should leave.

I didn't know this man. He was rude, arrogant, and clearly dangerous. I don't owe him a single thing.

So why.... why was my body refusing to walk out that door? Why was I still standing here?

I sighed in defeat and stood up from the wooden stool.

I noticed his thin blanket had slipped halfway down his chest, exposing his bandaged shoulder to the cold air.

"....Uff."

Without thinking, my hands reached out. I gently grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it back up, tucking it carefully around his uninjured shoulder to keep him warm.

The exact moment my fingers brushed his cold skin-I froze. I snatched my hand back like I had been burned.

What am I doing? I stepped back and scolded myself harshly under my breath. "Pagal ho gayi ho kya, Meera?" (Have you gone mad, Meera?)

There was no answer. Only the steady sound of the rain.

It was nearly midnight.

The storm outside still hadn't stopped, but the clinic was dead silent. I was sitting on the stool, resting my head against the wall, fighting to keep my eyes open.

Suddenly, his fingers moved. Just a slight twitch against the white bedsheets.

I immediately sat up straight, leaning forward.

His dark eyelashes fluttered. His forehead wrinkled in pain. Then.... slowly.... his eyes fluttered open.

At first, he just stared blankly at the cracked ceiling. He looked completely confused. Disoriented. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths.

Then, he slowly turned his head. His dark gaze shifted across the dim room until it landed straight on me.

Our eyes met.

The silence stretched. Neither of us spoke a word. The tension in the tiny room was suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife.

Finally.... his rough, dry voice broke the silence.

"....Aap." (You.)

I immediately folded my arms across my chest, defensive mode activated.

"Ji, haan," (Yes.)

He didn't blink. He slowly looked around the small clinic room once again, then brought his piercing gaze back to my face.

"....Aap humara peecha kar rahi hain?" (Are you following me?)

My jaw literally dropped.

For a split second.... I genuinely considered picking up the heavy steel water jug from the side table and throwing it directly at his thick head.

"Excuse me?" I sputtered, my voice rising in disbelief.

He remained completely serious. Not a hint of a joke on his face.

"I found YOU in a flood!" I yelled, throwing my hands in the air. "You were unconscious! You almost drowned in a river!"

He blinked slowly. Just once.

Then, as if he was just now realizing it, he looked down toward his heavily bandaged left shoulder.

"....Oh."

I stared at him. I actually stared.

"....OH?" I repeated, my voice an octave higher. "That was it? Just.... Oh?"

He didn't answer.

"You got shot!" I practically shrieked, pointing at his arm. "Someone shot you with a gun! You didn't notice?"

He glanced down at his shoulder again, completely unbothered.

"It seemed less important," he murmured, his voice flat.

I looked at him in complete, utter disbelief. I felt like pulling my own hair out.

"What kind of person says that?!"

Something deep and completely unreadable crossed his sharp features. The arrogance faded, replaced by something much softer.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Almost gentle.

"....Aap ruki." (You stayed.)

My heart did a stupid, nervous flip. I immediately looked away, staring at the peeling paint on the wall so I wouldn't have to look into those intense eyes.

"I couldn't exactly leave an unconscious man," I muttered, trying to sound tough.

He watched me for a long moment. Then, he gave a single, slow nod.

"Hm."

I snapped my head back to him. "There you go again."

He raised an eyebrow. "Hm."

"Stop saying 'hm'!" I warned, pointing a strict finger at him.

A small pause. He looked at my angry finger, then back to my face. Then perfectly on purpose....

"Hm."

I glared at him. I glared so hard I was absolutely convinced he should have burst into flames right there on the hospital bed.

But instead.... something entirely unexpected happened. A quiet laugh escaped his lips.

It was soft. Brief. Almost hesitant, like he wasn't used to doing it very often. But it was real. His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, and his entire face changed.

I froze completely.

RANVIJAY VARDHANA POV

She was glaring at me.

Like a wet, angry kitten trying to fight a lion. Her small finger was pointed directly at my face, her dark eyes flashing with absolute fury.

Stop saying 'hm'.

I should have been annoyed. I was the Crown Prince of Aravati. A Vardhana. Nobody raised their voice at me. Nobody ordered me around. And absolutely nobody pointed a finger at me like I was a misbehaving child.

But looking at her.... looking at her fiercely scolding a bleeding, dangerous man she thought was a criminal.... Something heavy and cold broke inside my chest.

A sound escaped my throat before I could stop it.

A laugh.

It felt completely foreign on my lips. Rough. Hesitant. I hadn't made that sound in.... years.

She froze instantly. Her big eyes widened, staring at me as if I had suddenly grown a second head.

But for a second, I didn't care. For a second, the damp walls of the clinic faded away. The smell of antiseptic was replaced by the scent of jasmine.

I was back in the grand, sunlit hallbof the Vardhana Palace. Twenty years ago.

Stop saying 'hm', vijay! You are a boy, not a statue! Use your words!

In my mind, I saw a beautiful woman with warm eyes, a bright smile, and a very stubborn chin. She was standing with her hands on her hips, fearlessly scolding my giant, intimidating father and a younger me for our silent, brooding habits.

My mother.

The late Queen of Aravati.

She had that exact same fire. The exact same absolute refusal to be intimidated by a man's anger, his wealth, or his power. She cared deeply, wildly, and without logic.

Just like the girl standing in front of me right now. She didn't know me. In fact, she was convinced I was a highway thief. A dangerous man.

Yet.... she had run into a raging flood for me. She had pulled my unconscious body from a violent river. She had sat in a freezing, uncomfortable chair for hours just to make sure I kept breathing. She had gently tucked the blanket over my cold shoulder.

And now, she was scolding me for not caring about my own gunshot wound.

My dark eyes slowly scanned her appearance. I took in the wet mud still clinging to the edges of her clothes. The deep, exhausted dark circles beneath her eyes. The way her hair was a tangled mess.

It was terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

How much this brave, broke, stubborn girl felt like a piece of the home I had lost so long ago.

The laugh slowly faded from my lips, but the strange, tight warmth inside my chest remained. The icy wall I kept around my heart had cracked, just a fraction.

I looked away from her, staring at the flickering flame of the lantern beside the bed so she wouldn't see the sudden vulnerability in my eyes.

"You talk too much," I murmured, my rough voice much softer than before.

She didn't miss a beat. She immediately crossed her arms tighter.

"And you don't talk at all!" she shot back. "Someone has to balance it out!" I closed my eyes, letting my head sink back into the thin pillow.

The next morning I opened my eyes slowly. The light drumming of the rain against the tin roof was the first thing I heard.

I turned my head and there she was.

She had fallen asleep sitting in that uncomfortable wooden chair, her head resting awkwardly against the damp wall.

For the first time since I met her.... I actually looked at her properly. She was shivering slightly in the cold morning air, yet she hadn't left my side once during the entire night.

A strange, quiet heaviness settled in my chest. Who was she? Really?

I forced my gaze away and sat up. A sharp, burning pain shot through my bandaged shoulder, but I ignored it.

The old cot creaked loudly beneath me.

The sound startled her awake. Her eyes fluttered open before widening. She sat up so quickly that the thin shawl slipped from her shoulders.

For a brief second, she looked disoriented.

Then her gaze landed on me. Relief flashed across her face. Only to disappear almost instantly behind a familiar glare.

She folded her arms. "You should be lying down."

I looked at her for a long moment.

Then, in the same calm, unreadable voice, I said, "Lootera?"

She frowned. "....Kya?"

"You called me that?"

Realization flickered across her face.

Then, instead of looking embarrassed, she lifted her chin defiantly.

She crossed her arms. "Toh aur kya? Shakal se hi gunde lagte hain aap!" (Then what else? You look like a thug by your face!)

I held her gaze. Most people apologized after insulting me. This woman.... Repeated it with complete confidence.

Mahadev. She truly had no sense of self-preservation.

My eye actually twitched.

I looked down at her. "A thug," I repeated, my voice dangerously low. The kind of tone that usually made my cabinet ministers break out in a cold sweat.

She didn't even flinch.

"Haan, gunde." (Yes, a thug.) She gestured up and down at me, her dark eyes filled with absolute certainty. "Look at you. Black clothes. Gunshot wound. Who gets shot in the shoulder on a random day unless they are doing something illegal?"

I stared at her.

Valid point. Unfortunately.

"And," she stepped closer, suddenly pointing an accusing finger at my left wrist. "That watch. That is a very expensive watch. A Rolex. How does a man who looks like a highway robber afford a real Rolex?"

I own the company that imports them for the entire state, you little menace. I kept my face completely blank. I slowly crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the sharp pull of pain in my shoulder.

"I stole it," I said, my voice deadpan.

Her eyes widened in horror. "I knew it!" she gasped, taking a quick step back. "Chor! You are a professional criminal!"

"A very successful one, apparently," I replied smoothly, looking at the watch. "It keeps excellent time."

"Have you no shame?!" she scolded, her hands flying back to her hips. "You are sitting in a clinic, bleeding everywhere, and you are proudly admitting to grand theft? Hey Bhagwan, kiske pale pad gayi mai...." (Oh God, who have I gotten stuck with....)

She started pacing the small room, muttering angrily under her breath about karma, criminals, and her terrible luck.

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to laugh.

It had been years-decades, maybe, since anyone had spoken to me without a title. Without bowing. Without fear. Everyone in Aravati saw the Crown Prince. The ruthless heir.

This girl?

This girl saw a petty thief with a stolen watch. And instead of running away, she was scolding me like a disappointed school teacher.

I watched her pace for a few seconds before I finally spoke.

"If I am such a dangerous, terrible criminal...." I took a slow step toward her. "....then why did you jump into a river to save me?"

She stopped pacing. She took a step back, her back softly hitting the damp wall of the clinic.

Instinct made me stop. I held her gaze for a moment before taking a step back myself.

Even then, I was easily a foot taller than her, and my broad shoulders almost blocking the weak morning light filtering through the window. The teasing was completely gone from my voice now.

I looked down into her wide, honey eyes.

"Why didn't you just let the river take me? Aapko toh hum lootere lage the." I asked quietly. "Phir.... Apne humein bachaya kyun? Meera Ji,"

She swallowed hard. The furious fire in her eyes flickered, replaced by something softer. Something nervous.

"Because...." she started, her voice suddenly breathless. "Because nobody deserves to die alone."

The words hit me right in the chest.

She didn't know I was a prince. She didn't know about my wealth or my power. She genuinely believed I was the lowest form of society-a thug, a criminal, a dangerous man.

And yet she had risked her own life to save mine anyway. Simply because she thought my life had value.

The icy wall around my heart cracked a little further.

I stared down at her, the silence between us suddenly growing heavy. Thick. The smell of the rain and her jasmine hair oil completely filled my senses.

She frowned suddenly.

"Ek minute...."

"Aapko mera naam kaise pata?" (Wait.... how do you know my name?)

I didn't answer. Instead, I found myself saying something entirely different.

"You are a very strange girl," I murmured softly.

She blinked.

Before we could say anything else, the heavy wooden door of the clinic suddenly banged open.

The old doctor froze in the doorway, staring at the two of us.

"Main jaa rahi hoon!" (I am going!) she practically yelled, avoiding my eyes completely as she hurried past the doctor and practically fled the room.

I stood there, watching her run off into the rain.

The doctor watched her disappear before slowly turning toward me. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"....Dawai ka asar toh theek lag raha hai."

I looked at him blankly. "....Ji?"

He only chuckled and left.

A clean, dry black kurta had been left folded on the table for me. I picked it up and carefully slid it over my injured shoulder. I stood in the quiet room, my good hand slowly fastening the small buttons down my chest, one by one.

I checked my phone. Still a black screen. Completely dead.

I reached for the heavy tactical walkie-talkie that Jorah had dropped off for me earlier. I checked the frequency, clipped it securely to my belt, and walked toward the door.

I should have stayed in bed. The old doctor had ordered it. Half the village had ordered it. Unfortunately, I disliked receiving orders. So naturally, I was going to ignore everyone.

I stepped outside the clinic and took a deep breath. The heavy, endless drumming of the rain had finally stopped.

The grey clouds were breaking apart, letting weak sunlight filter through. The violent floodwaters had receded back into the river overnight.

The village was safe. The disaster had passed. People were already cleaning up, moving freely without panic.

I looked around the clearing, and heard a group of village children pointing and whispering. I followed their gaze. And stopped dead in my tracks. I saw her immediately.

She was fifteen feet up in the air. Clinging to the thick branches of an old, massive Banyan tree.

"Aa ja, chhotu...." (Come here, little one....) her voice floated down from the leaves.

A tiny, stranded kitten meowed pitifully from a higher branch, likely stuck there from last night's storm.

Mahadev. Apparently, surviving a natural disaster wasn't enough for her. She had to launch a wildlife rescue mission, too.

I simply walked over, crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against a nearby wooden post, and watched her in complete silence.

She stretched her arm higher, balancing her entire weight on a thin, water-logged branch.

Any second now, I thought, my face completely expressionless.

"Got him!" she cheered victoriously, tucking the shivering furball into the fold of her dupatta.

She shifted her weight to climb down. The dead branch beneath her foot snapped in half.

She shrieked. Gravity took her instantly. She plummeted backward out of the leaves, clutching the kitten to her chest.

I pushed off the wooden post. My boots slammed against the damp earth. I lunged forward, planting my feet firmly and bracing my good arm out. She crashed squarely into my chest.

I caught her securely around the waist, taking her entire weight. The brutal impact sent a sharp jolt of fire through my bandaged shoulder, my jaw locked but I didn't let her drop.

We stood there. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my neck, her chest heaving against mine, her eyes squeezed shut in absolute terror.

"Are you okay?"

Her wide eyes blinked, nodding. "Hm."

I held her firmly, making sure she was steady. My heart was hammering against my ribs. The tiny kitten meowed from between us, completely unharmed.

And then.... time stopped.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked down at my hand. My large fingers were spread wide, gripping her waist tightly. I could feel the warmth of her skin seeping through her wet clothes. I could smell the jasmine in her hair.

My vow. The realization hit me like a physical blow to the chest.

Years. It had been years since I took the oath. A sacred, unbreakable vow to never touch a woman. To never let one close enough to feel her breath. I had built a fortress around myself, an iron wall that no one in the entire kingdom was allowed to cross.

And I had just broken it. Without a second thought. Without a single moment of hesitation.

I let go of her instantly.

I pulled my arm back as if her skin was made of burning iron. I took a sharp, abrupt step backward, completely severing the contact.

Meera ji stumbled slightly as my support suddenly vanished, but she quickly found her footing in the mud. She blinked her wide honey eyes open, looking confused by my sudden, aggressive withdrawal.

She frowned.

"Kya hua? Did I hurt your shoulder?"

My hands curled into tight fists at my sides. My chest was rising and falling rapidly. I forced my expression to remain an unreadable, cold mask, desperately trying to hide the absolute chaos exploding inside my head.

I slowly looked up toward the clear, blue sky.

"Mahadev."

"What?"

"Kya poore rajya mein sirf yahi ek mahila reh gayi hai jise humein baar baar bachana padta hai?" I muttered.

(Is there only this one woman left in the whole kingdom who I have to save again and again?)

"I was saving a life!" she shot back, clutching the kitten defensively to her chest.

But I wasn't listening to her argument. My hand was still tingling where I had gripped her waist.

I broke it.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The tiny kitten purred itself to sleep in her lap.

Then, she finally looked at me.

She looked at my face, and then fresh blood seeping slightly into my bandages from the impact of catching her.

"Aap har jagah kaise pahunch jaate ho?" (How do you keep appearing everywhere?) Her voice was much softer this time.

"Hum bhi yahi poochna chahte hain. How do you keep creating emergencies everywhere?" I continued, my voice flat.

(I want to ask the exact same thing.)

"Excuse me?" she fired back.

"Last time there was a dagger."

"That was self-defense!"

"This time there was a flood."

"I didn't create the flood!" she argued, throwing her free hand up in the air.

"Hm," I replied smoothly.

Her glare intensified, boring holes into my skull. My expression remained perfectly calm.

For a few moments, silence settled between us again. But this time.... it wasn't heavy. It was a comfortable, unexpected silence.

Then, she spoke softly.

"Thank you."

I looked at her. All the teasing was gone from her face. The suspicion was gone, too. For the first time since she held a dagger to my throat, she looked completely, utterly sincere.

"I mean it," she whispered. Her fingers tightened around the kitten. "Thank you."

Something strange happened inside my chest again. Small. Unwelcome. Dangerous.

I ignored it immediately. I straightened my posture, retreating back behind my impenetrable walls.

"As I said before." My voice remained steady, formal. "You are a guest of Aravati."

She didn't argue. Instead, she just smiled faintly, looking down at the kitten.

And for reasons I absolutely could not explain.... Why that soft, quiet smile stayed in my thoughts.

A sharp crackle came through the radio on my belt taking me out of my thoughts.

Urgent. One of our main military supply trucks had finally arrived at the edge of the village.

I left quickly and began walking alone toward the storage area to inspect the supplies. The moment I rounded the corner of an empty brick building; my instincts screamed.

Danger. But it was too late.

A gunshot echoed loudly across the valley.

CRACK. Time completely slowed down.

I saw the flash from the rooftop of a nearby building. A sniper rifle. A professional. My enemies hadn't drowned in the river. They had finally caught up to me.

My body tried to move immediately. My military training kicked in.

But the shot was already fired. There wasn't enough time. There wasn't enough distance to dodge it.

Not enough-

Suddenly; someone slammed into my chest. Hard. The sheer force of the impact threw me violently sideways into the mud.

"Ahhhh"

The bullet....

To be continued....

As promised, here's the chapter!

And yes, I know I'm updating after more than a month. To make up for the wait, I made this chapter longer than usual; it's almost 7,000 WORDS!

This chapter ended up taking much more time than I expected, which is why the update was delayed. I'm really sorry for keeping you all waiting, and I truly appreciate your patience and support.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thank you for reading.