Ranvijay stepped out of the chopper, his imposing figure cutting through the haze like a predator stalking its prey. His dark eyes burned with intensity, his jaw clenched in restrained fury. Dressed in a tailored black suit, he looked every bit the formidable man Myra had tried so desperately to flee from.
"Myra," he called, his voice calm but laced with an icy edge that sent shivers down her spine. He didn't need to raise his voice; the sheer authority in his tone silenced the world around them.
Myra took a step back, her hands trembling as she clutched the straps of her backpack. "Stay away from me," she warned, her voice breaking as she tried to summon a courage she didn't feel.
Ranvijay's lips curled into a bitter smile, though his eyes held no humor. "You think you can run from me? From this?" He gestured to the cars, the men, the chopper—an unspoken reminder of the power he wielded. "You should have known better, Myra. I told you—you're mine."
"No!" Myra shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. "I don't belong to anyone. Least of all you!"
Her defiance only seemed to ignite something darker within him. Ranvijay took a deliberate step forward, and Myra instinctively took another step back, her feet sinking into the dusty ground.
"Do you know what I've been through in the last few hours?" he asked, his tone eerily calm, though his eyes betrayed the storm raging inside him. "Do you know what it felt like to think you were gone? That someone might hurt you? That you could have been—" He stopped himself, inhaling sharply as if the thought was too unbearable to voice.
"I didn't ask for any of this!" Myra cried out, tears streaming down her face. "You're the one who forced me into this. I never wanted to marry you, Ranvijay. Don't you understand? I just want to be free!"
Her words were like daggers, each one piercing deeper than the last. Ranvijay's expression hardened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Free?" he echoed, his voice dangerously low. "Do you think the world will grant you freedom, Myra? Out here, you'll only find people waiting to exploit you, to hurt you. Is that what you want?"
"I'll take my chances," she said, her voice trembling but resolute.
Ranvijay's gaze darkened, and for a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, he moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, until there was barely a foot of space between them.
"You don't understand, Myra," he said softly, his voice a dangerous whisper. "This isn't just about love or hate. This is about survival. Out there, you'll be lost. But with me, you'll be protected."
Myra shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. "I don't need your protection. I need my life back."
Ranvijay reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. The gesture was tender, but it carried an unspoken promise of control. "You'll get your life back," he murmured. "But it will be by my side. That's the only way."
Before she could protest, he nodded to one of his men, who stepped forward and opened the door of one of the cars. "Get in," Ranvijay ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Myra's instincts kicked in the moment Ranvijay ordered her to get in the car. "No!" she screamed, her voice ringing out with desperation. Without thinking, she turned and ran, her wedding dress tangling around her legs as she sprinted across the barren ground.
But she barely made it a few steps before a strong hand grabbed her waist from behind, pulling her back with an unyielding grip. "Enough!" Ranvijay growled, his voice low and dangerous.
She struggled, twisting and flailing in his hold, but it was no use. His strength was overwhelming, and her panic only fueled his determination. In one swift motion, he spun her around, locking eyes with her for a fleeting moment. His gaze was fierce, a storm of emotions swirling within—anger, frustration, and something she couldn't quite place.
Before she could scream or push him away, Ranvijay bent slightly and hoisted her up onto his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. Myra gasped, her fists pounding against his back. "Put me down! Let me go!" she shouted, kicking her legs, but her movements only caused him to tighten his grip around her thighs.
"Keep struggling," he muttered, his voice cold and clipped. "You're only making this harder on yourself."
"Ranvijay, stop!" she yelled, her voice cracking with a mix of fury and fear. "You can't just treat me like this!"
He didn't respond, striding toward the waiting car with a calmness that was almost maddening. Myra's struggles were futile against his unyielding hold. She clawed at his back, her nails digging into the fabric of his suit, but he didn't flinch.
When he reached the car, one of his men opened the door, but Ranvijay shook his head. "I'll handle this," he said sharply, his tone brooking no argument.
He eased her off his shoulder, setting her down just long enough to pin her against the car. His hands gripped her wrists, holding them firmly but without hurting her. "Enough running, Myra," he said, his voice low and controlled. "This ends here. You're coming with me, whether you like it or not."
She glared up at him, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. "You can force me to come with you, Ranvijay, but you'll never have my heart," she spat, her voice trembling with defiance.
His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as her words struck a nerve. "I don't need your heart right now," he said softly, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "What I need is for you to be safe. And until you realize that's exactly what I'm trying to do, you'll have to learn it the hard way."
Without waiting for a response, he opened the car door and guided her inside, his grip on her wrist firm but not painful. As the door closed behind her, trapping her in the plush interior, Myra felt her heart sink. This wasn't just a battle of wills—it was a war she wasn't sure she could win. The car pulled into a grand hotel, its towering facade glittering in the night. Myra stared out the window, her heart racing as unease settled over her. This wasn't the wedding palace. Why had he brought her here?
Ranvijay stepped out first, his commanding presence enough to silence the staff waiting at the entrance. He walked to the car door, opening it himself. "Out," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Myra hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of her seat. She didn't move, her gaze darting toward the door as though calculating her chances of escape.
Ranvijay leaned down, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Don't make me carry you again, Myra," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
Reluctantly, she stepped out, her dust-smeared lehenga trailing behind her. The staff stole curious glances but quickly averted their eyes under Ranvijay's cold stare.
Inside the hotel, he directed her to a luxurious suite, its opulent decor a stark contrast to the chaos swirling within her. "Stay here," he ordered before leaving the room.
Myra paced the suite, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. Minutes later, a knock at the door broke her reverie. A group of helpers entered, their arms laden with a stunning new bridal lehenga, jewelry, and makeup kits.
"We've been instructed to help you change," one of them said hesitantly, clearly nervous.
"I don't need help," Myra snapped, crossing her arms.
They exchanged uncertain glances but approached her nonetheless. Myra's stubbornness flared as she refused to cooperate, batting their hands away when they tried to remove her jewelry or touch her clothes. "I said, leave me alone!" she yelled, her voice trembling with frustration.
Exasperated, the helpers finally stepped back, murmuring amongst themselves. One of them excused herself and left the room.
Moments later, the door burst open, and Ranvijay walked in, his expression thunderous. The helpers immediately stepped aside, relief washing over their faces at his arrival.
"What's going on here?" he demanded, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on Myra.
She straightened, defiance sparking in her eyes. "I told them I won't change. You can't force me into this wedding, Ranvijay. No matter what you do, I'll never agree."
Ranvijay's jaw tightened, his patience visibly fraying. He dismissed the helpers with a sharp gesture. "Leave us."
As the door clicked shut, he advanced toward her, his presence as overwhelming as a storm. "Myra," he began, his voice low and measured, "you've tested my patience enough tonight."
She met his gaze, her chin lifting defiantly. "What will you do? Drag me to the wedding like this?"
Ranvijay smirked, though there was no humor in it. "No. I won't let anyone see you like this. That's why I brought you here. But I will say this—either you change willingly, or I'll do it for you."
Her eyes widened, a flush rising to her cheeks. "You wouldn't dare!" she exclaimed, taking a step back.
He closed the distance between them in an instant, his gaze unwavering. "Try me," he said, his voice a quiet challenge.
Myra's heart pounded, her defiance wavering under the intensity of his stare. "You can't just…you can't!"
Ranvijay leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then make it easy for both of us. Change. Now."
For a moment, silence hung between them, thick with tension. Myra's fists clenched at her sides, her breathing uneven as she struggled to maintain her resolve.
But as his hand reached out, brushing against the fabric of her lehenga, her defiance crumbled. "Fine!" she snapped, yanking the new lehenga off the bed and clutching it to her chest. "I'll do it. But not because you told me to. I'm doing this for Dadi Sa."
Ranvijay straightened, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his features. "Good choice," he said, stepping back. "You have fifteen minutes."
With that, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Myra stood there, clutching the lehenga, her heart racing as she tried to steady herself. For now, she would comply—but the fire of rebellion still burned within her.