15-09-2025, 03:55 PM
(CHAPTER CONTD)
AT DILAWAR'S COLONY
The room reeked of sweat and fear. Sonarika’s body trembled as she pressed herself against the cold wall, clutching the shredded remnants of her clothing. Dilawar’s bite marks throbbed on her skin — angry bruises etched into her flesh. The humiliation was almost too much to bear, but what came next was worse. The bedroom door creaked open. A group of Dilawar’s goons slouched in, their eyes predatory. One of them shut the door with a heavy thud, sealing her in with them. Their gazes devoured her half-exposed body, their laughter filling the suffocating silence.
"Dilawar bhai will be late" one sneered, licking his lips.
"Why should such a beautiful toy go to waste?"
Another leaned forward, tugging at his belt as he chuckled.
"Tonight, we all get our turn"
Sonarika shook her head furiously, tears burning her eyes.
"Don’t you dare—" she screamed, but her voice broke into a sob.
Her legs faltered as one of the men grabbed her wrist, yanking her forward. Another clawed at her dupatta, ripping the last strip of fabric away from her chest. Their laughter turned cruel, their breath sour against her skin as they pressed closer.
"No! Please, no!"
She cried, struggling wildly, desperation turning to terror as their hands pulled and tore, reducing what remained of her clothes to tatters. Her voice cracked as she screamed for help, her body writhing like a trapped bird.
"Somebody—please!"
And then the roof exploded.
A thunderous blast shook the room as smoke and debris rained down. Through the gaping hole in the ceiling, a shadow descended.
Kira. Armored in shades of steel and grey, visor glinting, she landed with the force of a predator unleashed.
The goons froze, stunned by her sudden arrival. One stammered.
"What the—"
Before he finished, Kira’s electrified batons crackled alive. She lunged into the group with lightning speed, striking skulls, ribs, throats — each blow dropping a man with surgical precision. The scent of burnt flesh filled the air as the batons shocked them into submission. Sonarika, half-exposed and trembling, pressed herself into the corner, wide-eyed, unable to process what she was seeing. This woman moved like no one she’d ever seen before, a blur of violence and grace.
When one thug charged with a knife, Kira dropped her batons, pulled twin blades from her back, and in two swift slashes left him collapsing in a pool of blood. Her fighting grew harsher, more merciless — no longer defense, but punishment. Within minutes, the room was littered with groaning bodies. Kira turned, tossed Sonarika a bundle of black clothing and a vest.
"Get dressed. Quickly"
Hands shaking, Sonarika scrambled into the outfit, covering herself as tears blurred her vision. She looked at Kira — this savior, this stranger — with awe and fear. Before she could speak, the ground outside rumbled with chaos. Shouts, gunfire, the roar of hundreds of goons charging toward the bungalow.
Kira looked out the window.
"Too many" she muttered.
And then — the colony gates erupted in fire. An explosion tore them apart, and through the flames a figure walked in. Sonarika’s breath caught. It was a man hidden like a silhouette with the flames behind him , swinging his sword and charging in. He moved like something beyond human — every step radiating power, every strike with his blade and gun like the wrath of a god. Goons swarmed him, firing, stabbing, screaming — but he deflected, his counterattacks were merciless, inhumanly precise. To Sonarika, watching through the window, he wasn’t just a man. He was something else. A phantom. A monster. Or maybe… a savior. But she couldn't see his face clearly , unaware on who this powerful man is.
"Raquel. Neutralize" his deep voice growled into a wrist mic.
From the elevated position of the north side of the colony, gun fire answered, dropping goons in rows. Their heads burst like melons under the crushing precision of Scoped M16 assault rifles. The man in black didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, his every movement echoing supernatural ruthlessness.
Sonarika’s heart pounded. She didn’t recognize him. All she saw was a supernatural warrior tearing through Dilawar’s empire like judgment incarnate.
Behind her, Kira tightened her grip on her knives and muttered:
"Time to move"
The colony burned. Explosions thundered in the distance, gunfire rattled like drums of war. Sonarika clung to Kira’s side, heart still hammering from her near-violation, the bite marks on her flesh searing reminders of what she had just endured. Suddenly, headlights cut through the smoke. A convoy of SUVs screeched into the colony. Out stepped Vikram Bajaj, shielded by the towering Pratap Rathode , the Bajaj Family's loyal protector and a cadre of his father’s loyal men, rifles gleaming under the chaos. They moved like a phalanx, forming a wall of protection as Vikram sprinted forward.
"Soni!" he shouted, eyes widening at the sight of her bruised, half-dressed, trembling form.
Her composure shattered. The moment she saw Vikram, all the strength she had tried to hold crumbled. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing violently, clutching him as if she would never let go.
"Vicky…" Her voice cracked as her tears stained his shirt.
"He… he almost—"
She couldn’t finish. The dam of anguish burst, her body shaking with the raw, animal cry of a woman who had been pushed beyond her limits. Vikram wrapped his arms around her tightly, rage burning behind his eyes as he whispered.
"You’re safe now. I’ve got you. No one will touch you again"
Pratap and his men closed ranks, surrounding them like iron shields. Kira, bloodied knives still in her grip, barked at them sharply:
"Get her out. Now! Take her away from this hellhole"
Though confused by the stranger, Pratap and the Bajaj men obeyed without hesitation, shielding Sonarika. Vikram nodded, scooping Sonarika into his arms as she buried her face in his chest. As the convoy reversed and roared out of the burning colony, Sonarika glanced back through tear-blurred eyes. She saw the chaos, the fire, the shadows of battle consuming everything. Her heart clenched at the sight of the warrior tearing through men like a storm given flesh. She didn’t know who — or what — he was, but in her broken state he looked less like a man and more like an avenging spirit.
Meanwhile, the battlefield writhed with the screams of the dying.
Hemant stood in the center of it, a predator in motion. His blades flashed crimson, his pistols roared, bullets fell like rain. Each strike was brutal, decisive — a man transformed into myth.
Then, from the smoke, she appeared.
Kira leapt into the fray beside him, her grey armor glinting, twin knives slashing through the throats of men who dared charge her. She moved differently than before — sharper, faster, the air around her humming with the charge of violence.
For a split second, their eyes locked between slashes. Hemant’s breath caught.
"Kira…"
Her visor tilted. Recognition flickered in her stance, though her face remained hidden.
"You haven’t lost your edge" she said flatly, voice mechanical through her modulator.
Then another wave of goons came crashing, and without words, the two fought side by side, blades and bullets weaving in perfect synchronicity. Every movement was seamless, like a memory resurrected. Together, they were devastation incarnate — two ghosts from Michael King’s past, unleashed once more. By the time the last body fell, the colony had become a wasteland — fire, smoke, and silence.
And for the first time in years, Hemant and Kira stood shoulder to shoulder in the ashes of war, bound again by blood and fate. The battlefield eventually turned silent. Smoke curled into the night sky. The cries of the dying had faded, replaced only by the crackle of flames and the distant wail of security officer sirens.
Hemant and Kira stood amid the wreckage, her armor and his clothes drenched in blood and soot. For a long moment, neither spoke. Both of them breathed like predators after the hunt, watching the fires consume the last shadows of Dilawar’s empire.
Kira’s visor tilted toward him.
"You shouldn’t have come back, Michael" she said softly.
Hemant’s jaw clenched.
"I’m not just Michael anymore" His hand flexed over the Inquisitor sword.
"But I can’t deny him either"
Some time later as Hemant and Kira left the place, the roar of engines cut through the night. A convoy of black SUVs screeched to a halt at the colony gates. Armed men poured out — Dilawar’s reinforcements. And then, the man himself stepped forward.
Dilawar froze where he stood. His mouth fell open, his breath hitched. His eyes took in the burning colony, the smoldering bodies of his men scattered like husks, the smoke rising where his fortress once stood.
"No…" His knees buckled. He stumbled forward, hands gripping his hair.
"No, no, no! This was mine! My empire… my blood, my sweat, my life!"
The memory of Sonarika’s words clawed into him — the day she warned him with steel in her eyes:
"If you touch me again, I swear, Dilawar — I will see your empire burned to the ground"
And here it was. Her curse, her prophecy, fulfilled before his very eyes.
Dilawar dropped to the dirt, pounding his fists into the earth like a madman. Tears streaked his face, rage and grief twisting him into something pathetic. His men — the ones who hadn’t fled — looked at him in disbelief. Their lion had become a broken wreck. The fire spoke for his destruction — roaring, devouring, declaring that the reign of Dilawar was over.
AT THE SANJEEVANI HOSPITAL
The engines roared down the half-lit Mumbai streets as Vikram’s SUV cut through the night. Sonarika sat in the backseat, her body trembling beneath the oversized jacket Vikram had dbangd over her shoulders. Her new clothes hid the bruised skin now, but the marks of the assault still burned on her body… and deeper, in her soul. Her head leaned against the window, but her eyes were empty, lost somewhere between terror and exhaustion. Each time the car jolted, she shivered, clutching the jacket tighter around herself. Vikram sat beside her, unable to hide the pain on his face. He kept glancing at her, as if afraid she might break apart completely if he looked away even for a moment.
"Soni…" he said softly.
Her lips quivered but no words came. Instead, she shut her eyes, and the flash of Dilawar’s hands on her body returned. His biting, his mocking laughter. She flinched, clutching her arms as if trying to scrub his presence off her skin. Vikram reached out, hesitated, then gently placed his hand on hers.
"You’re safe now" he whispered.
"I promise you… nothing will happen to you again. Not while I’m here"
Tears spilled down her cheeks. For the first time, she turned and collapsed into him, burying her face in his chest. Vikram wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, whispering reassurances, his voice breaking as he did. The SUV screeched to a halt before Sanjeevani Hospital. Doctors and nurses rushed out as Pratap requested for immediate care.
Inside, the white lights and sterile air felt like another world. Sonarika’s legs faltered as they led her down the corridor, but Vikram’s arm around her waist kept her upright.
And then—
"Mumma!!!"
Karan’s small, broken voice shattered the silence.
Sonarika’s eyes widened. She turned, and there he was — her little boy, pale but alive, standing at the doorway with Anjali holding his hand.
She stumbled forward, and Karan tore free of Anjali’s grip, running as fast as his weak legs could carry him. The two collided in the hallway, Sonarika falling to her knees, clutching him so tight she thought she might never let go.
"My baby… my baby…" she sobbed, kissing his hair, his cheeks, his tiny hands. Karan hugged her neck, crying into her shoulder.
"Don’t leave me, Mumma… don’t go away again…"
"I won’t" she whispered, her voice breaking into pieces.
"Never again. I’m here, Karan. I’m here"
Anjali came forward, tears in her eyes as she gently touched Sonarika’s shoulder. Sonarika pulled her into the embrace too, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the three of them were together again — broken, scarred, but alive.
Vikram stood a few steps back, watching the scene unfold. A part of him ached to see her so shattered, but another part felt a strange peace: at least he had been there when she needed someone most. His eyes softened as he saw Sonarika clutching Karan like her very life depended on it. And in that quiet, bruised moment, Sonarika finally lifted her gaze to Vikram. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing — only let her eyes linger on him, silently acknowledging that when the darkness closed in around her, he had been the one to bring her back.
SOMEWHERE AT THE MUMBAI NATIONAL PARK
Rafique’s groan echoed through the stillness as his eyes fluttered open. The first thing that hit him wasn’t the sight, but the smell. A rancid, heavy stench that clung to his skin like a curse. He gagged, rolling to the side—only to realize his body was bare. Every thread of clothing had been stripped from him. His skin glistened faintly in the moonlight, slick with something thick and greasy.
Panic surged. He looked around—the dim glow revealed twisted branches, thick undergrowth, and the faint rustling of unseen creatures. A jungle. The air was alive with sound: crickets, owls, the distant roar of something primal. His breath came ragged, uneven.
And then… from the shadows, a figure emerged.
Hemant.
He arrived like the ghost of Michael King in black. Still wearing that black plain shirt and dark pants. Simplicity. Humanity. And yet, his eyes burned like twin embers, carrying the storm he had walked through.
"You" Rafique rasped, staggering to his feet.
"What is this?!"
Hemant didn’t answer at first. He only stepped forward, his presence heavier than the night itself. When Rafique lunged at him in a last-ditch fury, Hemant raised one leg and, with a single devastating kick, sent him crashing into the mud. Rafique coughed, dazed, spitting dirt. That was when the stench hit him full. He sniffed at his skin, his chest, and his stomach sank.
"W-what did you do to me…?"
"Animal fat" Hemant replied coldly, his voice like a judge passing sentence.
"The stench carries. Strong, thick… enough to call the predators to you"
Rafique’s eyes widened in horror. He scrambled on his knees, shaking.
"N-no… please, don’t do this… I—I’ll leave, I’ll disappear—"
Hemant crouched low, his gaze pinning Rafique to the earth.
"Do you pray, Rafique?" His tone was sharp, cutting.
"Pray now. Beg your god. Because in minutes, I’ll be sending you to meet him"
Rafique broke into sobs.
"Please… please, don’t kill me, I don’t want to die. I want my life back!"
Hemant tilted his head, a cruel smirk touching his lips.
"You want your life?" His voice dropped to a whisper, like poison.
"Run for it"
Confused, Rafique froze.
"I said run" Hemant’s voice thundered through the jungle.
"RUN!"
Rafique bolted. Branches whipped his face, thorns tore his feet. He didn’t know where he was going — only that he needed to get away. But the smell followed him, clung to him, announced him.
That was when he heard it.
A growl. Low. Feminine. Then another. And another.
Rafique stopped dead, chest heaving, eyes wild. From the shadows, golden eyes flickered to life. The slinking silhouettes emerged, one after the other. Tigers. Not one — a pack of females, circling, tails twitching, jaws parting with guttural hunger.
Rafique screamed. He turned, but claws struck his back, dragging him down. Another clamped onto his arm, teeth sinking in. He shrieked as the jungle erupted in his torment — his flesh tearing, bones cracking, his body reduced to prey. The night became a chorus of his suffering as the tigers mauled, clawed, and devoured him piece by piece, until nothing but scraps of bloodied mud remained.
From the distance, Hemant stood silent, watching. His expression was unreadable, but inside, there was a grim satisfaction. The countless families who had suffered at Rafique’s hands, the daughters lost, the wives violated , the innocents destroyed — their torment had ended here.
And then… movement. A massive figure padded out from the shadows. The male. The king of the jungle, his mane-like ruff bristling as he approached, standing tall over the feasting tigresses. His amber eyes locked with Hemant’s.
The air froze.
Hemant didn’t flinch. His fists clenched, but he did not move. He only stared back, unblinking, unafraid. Manush Rustom’s voice echoed in his mind —
"Tigers feed on fear. If their's target doesn't show that fear, they’ll bow out from the hunt"
The great cat rumbled, but slowly — as though recognizing a kindred flame — it stepped back, retreating to its pack. The forest swallowed them again, their growls fading. Hemant exhaled deeply, the storm in his chest quieting. Justice had been dealt. He turned and walked away, leaving Rafique’s shredded corpse to the tigers’ feast, the jungle echoing with a silence heavier than any judgment of man.
SOMETIME LATER AT MUMBAI PORT
The port smelled of oil and rain—the storm’s after-ash still in the air—when Hemant found Kira waiting by the rusted cranes. She’d shed her grey armor; tonight she wore hammered denim and a fitted shirt, hair tied back but eyes as sharp as ever. For a strange, private second Hemant felt something like relief. The past had come back to meet him in person, and it was a woman who moved like wind.
"You came" he said simply.
His voice was tired in a way it hadn’t been all night. Kira gave him a long look, then a small, dry smile.
"I came to tell you that you’re being reckless. Your enemies know your face now. They’ll swarm Mumbai trying to take you down"
Her tone was blunt, the warning wrapped around something else—worry. Hemant shrugged one shoulder as if shrugging off rain.
"They tried before. They Failed" There was no bravado—just the flat fact of history between them.
Kira’s mouth quirked.
"They might try again. With more numbers" She folded her arms as she continued.
"I was nervous. I thought I’d see Michael King in you tonight.....But you weren’t him. Not exactly. You’ve…changed"
He looked at her then, taking in the denim, the dirt at her boots.
"Thank you. For Sonarika"
The words were short but real. Kira shrugged.
"I came because I wanted to know what made her special—what made you bury a life for her"
Her voice turned teasing, deliberately flinty.
"Turns out it’s the boobs and the ass"
She laughed once, high and rough, and Hemant felt the worst kind of embarrassed heat and absurd gratitude at the same time. They stood in that awkward silence for a breath. Kira’s expression softened, the joke falling away.
"You gave me a chance once" she said quietly.
"You wanted to run. Start over with me. I chose my vengeance instead. I thought I chose right. I was wrong. I lost…peace. I lost the chance to be normal. Sometimes I wake up and think—what if I’d been somebody’s wife, somebody’s mother? Maybe Karan could’ve had a different woman in his life"
Her voice broke on the last words; the confession landed between them like a small, honest stone. Hemant’s answer was quieter than she’d expected.
"I made my mistakes too. I built a family and thought I could bury the rest. That made me weak—vulnerable. She left. She found someone else"
He shook his head, and the admission sounded like pain.
"Tonight, when I tore through Rafique’s men… I felt something I haven’t felt in years. Guilty and sick of it, but…alive. I hated that I liked it"
Kira studied him, then stepped closer until the port lanterns lit the planes of her face.
"No Hemant. It wasn’t the blood that made you smile" she said, almost gently.
"It was the need to protect. Every strike you landed was for Karan. Every snapped bone—was a line drawn between your family and those men. You didn’t enjoy killing. You were a father avenging the wrong done on your boy. That’s not Michael King. That’s you. The Real You!"
He stood there taking in all the words that gave some level of healing to his bleeding heart. Then Kira said.
"Then again. Michael King is not some monster to be kept away. That sword of yours was meant to slay evil people , and to this day , not a single innocent blood was spilled by it. Remember?"
"I know"
"And as for Sonarika. Its her loss anyway , maybe she couldn't see the real you.......but tell me , does it still hurt? what she did?"
Hemant faltered , his rigid stance started to unravel as Kira saw his vulnerability coming out.
"It hurts Kira.....because once again I am loosing another woman....but this one hurts the most because I built a life with her....and....she just threw it all away.....she claims she just loves two men now....but all I see between us is distance..."
"So you're hurt that letting Michael King go made you a lesser man"
"In some way yes , I unknowingly buried the best parts of me with it. But now , now I feel I should finally cut loose"
"You should've given a hint about that beforehand"
"Why?"
"Because I already booked my return flight, or else I would've stayed a day more to get a taste of the old Michael King"
Kira grinned saying that. Hemant had that Michael King grin show up in his face as he responded.
"Do you remember the last time what we did"
"My ass definitely remember. In a way , you deserve much credit for this booty to look this good right now"
Kira said rubbing her ass to Hemant's crotch. Hemant let out an animalistic groan , something Kira was quiet familiar with.
"Damn....you really are back" Kira said hinting towards Michael King.
"Maybe.....like I said.....I've stopped ignoring that side of me......and considering how things are going.....I believe I must eventually bring Michael King his closure.....and you know what that means"
"It means War"
"Yeah....War.....once again I am in the same situation from the past.....with loved ones in the crosshairs"
"But this time you won't falter Hemant.....because you're not just Michael King.....you're Hemant Kumar too"
"Thank you for that"
Hemant continued to grind on her from behind , reminiscing their fiery chemistry in the past. Hemant soon spoke.
"I remember the nights we spent in secret at the army quarters"
"Yeah....they were fun" Deepika grinned but added.
"But I think the moment with you and Ashnoor will forever be etched in my brain..."
Hemant remembered that , that time of prime Michael King. When Ashnoor learning about his past with Kira orchestrated a threesome one night , to see whether he did something different with Kira than with her.
"That threesome will live on forever. And now I realize how Sonarika came into your attention"
"How?"
"Come on Hemant , Sonarika has the same physical characteristics Ashnoor has , big boobs , meaty ass. I am starting to see that's probably your type"
"Yeah....then how come I hooked up with you?"
"I ended up getting a thick booty thanks to you , but I could notice the disappointment in your face because of my flat chest"
"Don't say that Kira , I don't judge that way. You know that"
"I know , I am just sad that a man who was such a flamboyant and once lady killer like you would end up have a wife that will cheat on you. Its something that didn't make sense until now"
"Guess you figured"
"Yeah , but I feel bad for Sonarika though. Despite being married , she never got to acknowledge or feel the sex god known as Michael King!"
"Stop it Kira , now I will blush!"
Both of them laughed and then Kira said in a seductive tone.
"BTW , I heard rumors of you being involved with a rich woman here , Pranitha Mehta?"
"A rumor she cooked up to protect me. But I can say for now , things are definitely evolving between us"
"Well , if she needs a threesome partner , you can call me. Although I hear she has other references for that matter from the film industry"
"Heh....lucky me!"
Kira reached into the pocket of her jeans and produced a slim black card—no numbers; just an embossed insignia and a voice line code. She pressed it into his hand.
"Call this if you need me. I don’t think you will— but if I’m in trouble, I’ll call you"
Her eyes were steady; there was history there and a fragile truce. Hemant slid the card into his wallet and pocketed the drawing.
"I’m building an army" he said without flourish, letting the words hang.
"People who won’t flinch. My echo will wake my nemesises. I’ll finish this"
Kira watched him for a long beat, then nodded. And out of the blue , she grabbed his face and gave him a kiss. A taste of a passion they shared long back. And surprisingly unlike their reunion in London few months back , this time she felt Michael's flames in Hemant. He no longer held back , he responded to her kiss with passion. When the kiss ended , a tiny stream of saliva bridged their lips together.
"Finish it. But don’t become the thing you’re trying to kill"
He looked at her—at the woman who’d once stood at his side when the world was black and who’d chosen a different road—and felt something like clarity.
"I won’t" he said.
It wasn’t a promise that erased the past. It was a choice for the next step. They turned away from the cranes together, two people who knew the cost of their war. Lightning had cut the night earlier; now the sky was clear. For a second, the echos of wings felt real, and both of them, in their own ways, readied for what came next.
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
The room reeked of sweat and fear. Sonarika’s body trembled as she pressed herself against the cold wall, clutching the shredded remnants of her clothing. Dilawar’s bite marks throbbed on her skin — angry bruises etched into her flesh. The humiliation was almost too much to bear, but what came next was worse. The bedroom door creaked open. A group of Dilawar’s goons slouched in, their eyes predatory. One of them shut the door with a heavy thud, sealing her in with them. Their gazes devoured her half-exposed body, their laughter filling the suffocating silence.
"Dilawar bhai will be late" one sneered, licking his lips.
"Why should such a beautiful toy go to waste?"
Another leaned forward, tugging at his belt as he chuckled.
"Tonight, we all get our turn"
Sonarika shook her head furiously, tears burning her eyes.
"Don’t you dare—" she screamed, but her voice broke into a sob.
Her legs faltered as one of the men grabbed her wrist, yanking her forward. Another clawed at her dupatta, ripping the last strip of fabric away from her chest. Their laughter turned cruel, their breath sour against her skin as they pressed closer.
"No! Please, no!"
She cried, struggling wildly, desperation turning to terror as their hands pulled and tore, reducing what remained of her clothes to tatters. Her voice cracked as she screamed for help, her body writhing like a trapped bird.
"Somebody—please!"
And then the roof exploded.
A thunderous blast shook the room as smoke and debris rained down. Through the gaping hole in the ceiling, a shadow descended.
Kira. Armored in shades of steel and grey, visor glinting, she landed with the force of a predator unleashed.
The goons froze, stunned by her sudden arrival. One stammered.
"What the—"
Before he finished, Kira’s electrified batons crackled alive. She lunged into the group with lightning speed, striking skulls, ribs, throats — each blow dropping a man with surgical precision. The scent of burnt flesh filled the air as the batons shocked them into submission. Sonarika, half-exposed and trembling, pressed herself into the corner, wide-eyed, unable to process what she was seeing. This woman moved like no one she’d ever seen before, a blur of violence and grace.
When one thug charged with a knife, Kira dropped her batons, pulled twin blades from her back, and in two swift slashes left him collapsing in a pool of blood. Her fighting grew harsher, more merciless — no longer defense, but punishment. Within minutes, the room was littered with groaning bodies. Kira turned, tossed Sonarika a bundle of black clothing and a vest.
"Get dressed. Quickly"
Hands shaking, Sonarika scrambled into the outfit, covering herself as tears blurred her vision. She looked at Kira — this savior, this stranger — with awe and fear. Before she could speak, the ground outside rumbled with chaos. Shouts, gunfire, the roar of hundreds of goons charging toward the bungalow.
Kira looked out the window.
"Too many" she muttered.
And then — the colony gates erupted in fire. An explosion tore them apart, and through the flames a figure walked in. Sonarika’s breath caught. It was a man hidden like a silhouette with the flames behind him , swinging his sword and charging in. He moved like something beyond human — every step radiating power, every strike with his blade and gun like the wrath of a god. Goons swarmed him, firing, stabbing, screaming — but he deflected, his counterattacks were merciless, inhumanly precise. To Sonarika, watching through the window, he wasn’t just a man. He was something else. A phantom. A monster. Or maybe… a savior. But she couldn't see his face clearly , unaware on who this powerful man is.
"Raquel. Neutralize" his deep voice growled into a wrist mic.
From the elevated position of the north side of the colony, gun fire answered, dropping goons in rows. Their heads burst like melons under the crushing precision of Scoped M16 assault rifles. The man in black didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, his every movement echoing supernatural ruthlessness.
Sonarika’s heart pounded. She didn’t recognize him. All she saw was a supernatural warrior tearing through Dilawar’s empire like judgment incarnate.
Behind her, Kira tightened her grip on her knives and muttered:
"Time to move"
The colony burned. Explosions thundered in the distance, gunfire rattled like drums of war. Sonarika clung to Kira’s side, heart still hammering from her near-violation, the bite marks on her flesh searing reminders of what she had just endured. Suddenly, headlights cut through the smoke. A convoy of SUVs screeched into the colony. Out stepped Vikram Bajaj, shielded by the towering Pratap Rathode , the Bajaj Family's loyal protector and a cadre of his father’s loyal men, rifles gleaming under the chaos. They moved like a phalanx, forming a wall of protection as Vikram sprinted forward.
"Soni!" he shouted, eyes widening at the sight of her bruised, half-dressed, trembling form.
Her composure shattered. The moment she saw Vikram, all the strength she had tried to hold crumbled. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing violently, clutching him as if she would never let go.
"Vicky…" Her voice cracked as her tears stained his shirt.
"He… he almost—"
She couldn’t finish. The dam of anguish burst, her body shaking with the raw, animal cry of a woman who had been pushed beyond her limits. Vikram wrapped his arms around her tightly, rage burning behind his eyes as he whispered.
"You’re safe now. I’ve got you. No one will touch you again"
Pratap and his men closed ranks, surrounding them like iron shields. Kira, bloodied knives still in her grip, barked at them sharply:
"Get her out. Now! Take her away from this hellhole"
Though confused by the stranger, Pratap and the Bajaj men obeyed without hesitation, shielding Sonarika. Vikram nodded, scooping Sonarika into his arms as she buried her face in his chest. As the convoy reversed and roared out of the burning colony, Sonarika glanced back through tear-blurred eyes. She saw the chaos, the fire, the shadows of battle consuming everything. Her heart clenched at the sight of the warrior tearing through men like a storm given flesh. She didn’t know who — or what — he was, but in her broken state he looked less like a man and more like an avenging spirit.
Meanwhile, the battlefield writhed with the screams of the dying.
Hemant stood in the center of it, a predator in motion. His blades flashed crimson, his pistols roared, bullets fell like rain. Each strike was brutal, decisive — a man transformed into myth.
Then, from the smoke, she appeared.
Kira leapt into the fray beside him, her grey armor glinting, twin knives slashing through the throats of men who dared charge her. She moved differently than before — sharper, faster, the air around her humming with the charge of violence.
For a split second, their eyes locked between slashes. Hemant’s breath caught.
"Kira…"
Her visor tilted. Recognition flickered in her stance, though her face remained hidden.
"You haven’t lost your edge" she said flatly, voice mechanical through her modulator.
Then another wave of goons came crashing, and without words, the two fought side by side, blades and bullets weaving in perfect synchronicity. Every movement was seamless, like a memory resurrected. Together, they were devastation incarnate — two ghosts from Michael King’s past, unleashed once more. By the time the last body fell, the colony had become a wasteland — fire, smoke, and silence.
And for the first time in years, Hemant and Kira stood shoulder to shoulder in the ashes of war, bound again by blood and fate. The battlefield eventually turned silent. Smoke curled into the night sky. The cries of the dying had faded, replaced only by the crackle of flames and the distant wail of security officer sirens.
Hemant and Kira stood amid the wreckage, her armor and his clothes drenched in blood and soot. For a long moment, neither spoke. Both of them breathed like predators after the hunt, watching the fires consume the last shadows of Dilawar’s empire.
Kira’s visor tilted toward him.
"You shouldn’t have come back, Michael" she said softly.
Hemant’s jaw clenched.
"I’m not just Michael anymore" His hand flexed over the Inquisitor sword.
"But I can’t deny him either"
Some time later as Hemant and Kira left the place, the roar of engines cut through the night. A convoy of black SUVs screeched to a halt at the colony gates. Armed men poured out — Dilawar’s reinforcements. And then, the man himself stepped forward.
Dilawar froze where he stood. His mouth fell open, his breath hitched. His eyes took in the burning colony, the smoldering bodies of his men scattered like husks, the smoke rising where his fortress once stood.
"No…" His knees buckled. He stumbled forward, hands gripping his hair.
"No, no, no! This was mine! My empire… my blood, my sweat, my life!"
The memory of Sonarika’s words clawed into him — the day she warned him with steel in her eyes:
"If you touch me again, I swear, Dilawar — I will see your empire burned to the ground"
And here it was. Her curse, her prophecy, fulfilled before his very eyes.
Dilawar dropped to the dirt, pounding his fists into the earth like a madman. Tears streaked his face, rage and grief twisting him into something pathetic. His men — the ones who hadn’t fled — looked at him in disbelief. Their lion had become a broken wreck. The fire spoke for his destruction — roaring, devouring, declaring that the reign of Dilawar was over.
AT THE SANJEEVANI HOSPITAL
The engines roared down the half-lit Mumbai streets as Vikram’s SUV cut through the night. Sonarika sat in the backseat, her body trembling beneath the oversized jacket Vikram had dbangd over her shoulders. Her new clothes hid the bruised skin now, but the marks of the assault still burned on her body… and deeper, in her soul. Her head leaned against the window, but her eyes were empty, lost somewhere between terror and exhaustion. Each time the car jolted, she shivered, clutching the jacket tighter around herself. Vikram sat beside her, unable to hide the pain on his face. He kept glancing at her, as if afraid she might break apart completely if he looked away even for a moment.
"Soni…" he said softly.
Her lips quivered but no words came. Instead, she shut her eyes, and the flash of Dilawar’s hands on her body returned. His biting, his mocking laughter. She flinched, clutching her arms as if trying to scrub his presence off her skin. Vikram reached out, hesitated, then gently placed his hand on hers.
"You’re safe now" he whispered.
"I promise you… nothing will happen to you again. Not while I’m here"
Tears spilled down her cheeks. For the first time, she turned and collapsed into him, burying her face in his chest. Vikram wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, whispering reassurances, his voice breaking as he did. The SUV screeched to a halt before Sanjeevani Hospital. Doctors and nurses rushed out as Pratap requested for immediate care.
Inside, the white lights and sterile air felt like another world. Sonarika’s legs faltered as they led her down the corridor, but Vikram’s arm around her waist kept her upright.
And then—
"Mumma!!!"
Karan’s small, broken voice shattered the silence.
Sonarika’s eyes widened. She turned, and there he was — her little boy, pale but alive, standing at the doorway with Anjali holding his hand.
She stumbled forward, and Karan tore free of Anjali’s grip, running as fast as his weak legs could carry him. The two collided in the hallway, Sonarika falling to her knees, clutching him so tight she thought she might never let go.
"My baby… my baby…" she sobbed, kissing his hair, his cheeks, his tiny hands. Karan hugged her neck, crying into her shoulder.
"Don’t leave me, Mumma… don’t go away again…"
"I won’t" she whispered, her voice breaking into pieces.
"Never again. I’m here, Karan. I’m here"
Anjali came forward, tears in her eyes as she gently touched Sonarika’s shoulder. Sonarika pulled her into the embrace too, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the three of them were together again — broken, scarred, but alive.
Vikram stood a few steps back, watching the scene unfold. A part of him ached to see her so shattered, but another part felt a strange peace: at least he had been there when she needed someone most. His eyes softened as he saw Sonarika clutching Karan like her very life depended on it. And in that quiet, bruised moment, Sonarika finally lifted her gaze to Vikram. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing — only let her eyes linger on him, silently acknowledging that when the darkness closed in around her, he had been the one to bring her back.
SOMEWHERE AT THE MUMBAI NATIONAL PARK
Rafique’s groan echoed through the stillness as his eyes fluttered open. The first thing that hit him wasn’t the sight, but the smell. A rancid, heavy stench that clung to his skin like a curse. He gagged, rolling to the side—only to realize his body was bare. Every thread of clothing had been stripped from him. His skin glistened faintly in the moonlight, slick with something thick and greasy.
Panic surged. He looked around—the dim glow revealed twisted branches, thick undergrowth, and the faint rustling of unseen creatures. A jungle. The air was alive with sound: crickets, owls, the distant roar of something primal. His breath came ragged, uneven.
And then… from the shadows, a figure emerged.
Hemant.
He arrived like the ghost of Michael King in black. Still wearing that black plain shirt and dark pants. Simplicity. Humanity. And yet, his eyes burned like twin embers, carrying the storm he had walked through.
"You" Rafique rasped, staggering to his feet.
"What is this?!"
Hemant didn’t answer at first. He only stepped forward, his presence heavier than the night itself. When Rafique lunged at him in a last-ditch fury, Hemant raised one leg and, with a single devastating kick, sent him crashing into the mud. Rafique coughed, dazed, spitting dirt. That was when the stench hit him full. He sniffed at his skin, his chest, and his stomach sank.
"W-what did you do to me…?"
"Animal fat" Hemant replied coldly, his voice like a judge passing sentence.
"The stench carries. Strong, thick… enough to call the predators to you"
Rafique’s eyes widened in horror. He scrambled on his knees, shaking.
"N-no… please, don’t do this… I—I’ll leave, I’ll disappear—"
Hemant crouched low, his gaze pinning Rafique to the earth.
"Do you pray, Rafique?" His tone was sharp, cutting.
"Pray now. Beg your god. Because in minutes, I’ll be sending you to meet him"
Rafique broke into sobs.
"Please… please, don’t kill me, I don’t want to die. I want my life back!"
Hemant tilted his head, a cruel smirk touching his lips.
"You want your life?" His voice dropped to a whisper, like poison.
"Run for it"
Confused, Rafique froze.
"I said run" Hemant’s voice thundered through the jungle.
"RUN!"
Rafique bolted. Branches whipped his face, thorns tore his feet. He didn’t know where he was going — only that he needed to get away. But the smell followed him, clung to him, announced him.
That was when he heard it.
A growl. Low. Feminine. Then another. And another.
Rafique stopped dead, chest heaving, eyes wild. From the shadows, golden eyes flickered to life. The slinking silhouettes emerged, one after the other. Tigers. Not one — a pack of females, circling, tails twitching, jaws parting with guttural hunger.
Rafique screamed. He turned, but claws struck his back, dragging him down. Another clamped onto his arm, teeth sinking in. He shrieked as the jungle erupted in his torment — his flesh tearing, bones cracking, his body reduced to prey. The night became a chorus of his suffering as the tigers mauled, clawed, and devoured him piece by piece, until nothing but scraps of bloodied mud remained.
From the distance, Hemant stood silent, watching. His expression was unreadable, but inside, there was a grim satisfaction. The countless families who had suffered at Rafique’s hands, the daughters lost, the wives violated , the innocents destroyed — their torment had ended here.
And then… movement. A massive figure padded out from the shadows. The male. The king of the jungle, his mane-like ruff bristling as he approached, standing tall over the feasting tigresses. His amber eyes locked with Hemant’s.
The air froze.
Hemant didn’t flinch. His fists clenched, but he did not move. He only stared back, unblinking, unafraid. Manush Rustom’s voice echoed in his mind —
"Tigers feed on fear. If their's target doesn't show that fear, they’ll bow out from the hunt"
The great cat rumbled, but slowly — as though recognizing a kindred flame — it stepped back, retreating to its pack. The forest swallowed them again, their growls fading. Hemant exhaled deeply, the storm in his chest quieting. Justice had been dealt. He turned and walked away, leaving Rafique’s shredded corpse to the tigers’ feast, the jungle echoing with a silence heavier than any judgment of man.
SOMETIME LATER AT MUMBAI PORT
The port smelled of oil and rain—the storm’s after-ash still in the air—when Hemant found Kira waiting by the rusted cranes. She’d shed her grey armor; tonight she wore hammered denim and a fitted shirt, hair tied back but eyes as sharp as ever. For a strange, private second Hemant felt something like relief. The past had come back to meet him in person, and it was a woman who moved like wind.
"You came" he said simply.
His voice was tired in a way it hadn’t been all night. Kira gave him a long look, then a small, dry smile.
"I came to tell you that you’re being reckless. Your enemies know your face now. They’ll swarm Mumbai trying to take you down"
Her tone was blunt, the warning wrapped around something else—worry. Hemant shrugged one shoulder as if shrugging off rain.
"They tried before. They Failed" There was no bravado—just the flat fact of history between them.
Kira’s mouth quirked.
"They might try again. With more numbers" She folded her arms as she continued.
"I was nervous. I thought I’d see Michael King in you tonight.....But you weren’t him. Not exactly. You’ve…changed"
He looked at her then, taking in the denim, the dirt at her boots.
"Thank you. For Sonarika"
The words were short but real. Kira shrugged.
"I came because I wanted to know what made her special—what made you bury a life for her"
Her voice turned teasing, deliberately flinty.
"Turns out it’s the boobs and the ass"
She laughed once, high and rough, and Hemant felt the worst kind of embarrassed heat and absurd gratitude at the same time. They stood in that awkward silence for a breath. Kira’s expression softened, the joke falling away.
"You gave me a chance once" she said quietly.
"You wanted to run. Start over with me. I chose my vengeance instead. I thought I chose right. I was wrong. I lost…peace. I lost the chance to be normal. Sometimes I wake up and think—what if I’d been somebody’s wife, somebody’s mother? Maybe Karan could’ve had a different woman in his life"
Her voice broke on the last words; the confession landed between them like a small, honest stone. Hemant’s answer was quieter than she’d expected.
"I made my mistakes too. I built a family and thought I could bury the rest. That made me weak—vulnerable. She left. She found someone else"
He shook his head, and the admission sounded like pain.
"Tonight, when I tore through Rafique’s men… I felt something I haven’t felt in years. Guilty and sick of it, but…alive. I hated that I liked it"
Kira studied him, then stepped closer until the port lanterns lit the planes of her face.
"No Hemant. It wasn’t the blood that made you smile" she said, almost gently.
"It was the need to protect. Every strike you landed was for Karan. Every snapped bone—was a line drawn between your family and those men. You didn’t enjoy killing. You were a father avenging the wrong done on your boy. That’s not Michael King. That’s you. The Real You!"
He stood there taking in all the words that gave some level of healing to his bleeding heart. Then Kira said.
"Then again. Michael King is not some monster to be kept away. That sword of yours was meant to slay evil people , and to this day , not a single innocent blood was spilled by it. Remember?"
"I know"
"And as for Sonarika. Its her loss anyway , maybe she couldn't see the real you.......but tell me , does it still hurt? what she did?"
Hemant faltered , his rigid stance started to unravel as Kira saw his vulnerability coming out.
"It hurts Kira.....because once again I am loosing another woman....but this one hurts the most because I built a life with her....and....she just threw it all away.....she claims she just loves two men now....but all I see between us is distance..."
"So you're hurt that letting Michael King go made you a lesser man"
"In some way yes , I unknowingly buried the best parts of me with it. But now , now I feel I should finally cut loose"
"You should've given a hint about that beforehand"
"Why?"
"Because I already booked my return flight, or else I would've stayed a day more to get a taste of the old Michael King"
Kira grinned saying that. Hemant had that Michael King grin show up in his face as he responded.
"Do you remember the last time what we did"
"My ass definitely remember. In a way , you deserve much credit for this booty to look this good right now"
Kira said rubbing her ass to Hemant's crotch. Hemant let out an animalistic groan , something Kira was quiet familiar with.
"Damn....you really are back" Kira said hinting towards Michael King.
"Maybe.....like I said.....I've stopped ignoring that side of me......and considering how things are going.....I believe I must eventually bring Michael King his closure.....and you know what that means"
"It means War"
"Yeah....War.....once again I am in the same situation from the past.....with loved ones in the crosshairs"
"But this time you won't falter Hemant.....because you're not just Michael King.....you're Hemant Kumar too"
"Thank you for that"
Hemant continued to grind on her from behind , reminiscing their fiery chemistry in the past. Hemant soon spoke.
"I remember the nights we spent in secret at the army quarters"
"Yeah....they were fun" Deepika grinned but added.
"But I think the moment with you and Ashnoor will forever be etched in my brain..."
Hemant remembered that , that time of prime Michael King. When Ashnoor learning about his past with Kira orchestrated a threesome one night , to see whether he did something different with Kira than with her.
"That threesome will live on forever. And now I realize how Sonarika came into your attention"
"How?"
"Come on Hemant , Sonarika has the same physical characteristics Ashnoor has , big boobs , meaty ass. I am starting to see that's probably your type"
"Yeah....then how come I hooked up with you?"
"I ended up getting a thick booty thanks to you , but I could notice the disappointment in your face because of my flat chest"
"Don't say that Kira , I don't judge that way. You know that"
"I know , I am just sad that a man who was such a flamboyant and once lady killer like you would end up have a wife that will cheat on you. Its something that didn't make sense until now"
"Guess you figured"
"Yeah , but I feel bad for Sonarika though. Despite being married , she never got to acknowledge or feel the sex god known as Michael King!"
"Stop it Kira , now I will blush!"
Both of them laughed and then Kira said in a seductive tone.
"BTW , I heard rumors of you being involved with a rich woman here , Pranitha Mehta?"
"A rumor she cooked up to protect me. But I can say for now , things are definitely evolving between us"
"Well , if she needs a threesome partner , you can call me. Although I hear she has other references for that matter from the film industry"
"Heh....lucky me!"
Kira reached into the pocket of her jeans and produced a slim black card—no numbers; just an embossed insignia and a voice line code. She pressed it into his hand.
"Call this if you need me. I don’t think you will— but if I’m in trouble, I’ll call you"
Her eyes were steady; there was history there and a fragile truce. Hemant slid the card into his wallet and pocketed the drawing.
"I’m building an army" he said without flourish, letting the words hang.
"People who won’t flinch. My echo will wake my nemesises. I’ll finish this"
Kira watched him for a long beat, then nodded. And out of the blue , she grabbed his face and gave him a kiss. A taste of a passion they shared long back. And surprisingly unlike their reunion in London few months back , this time she felt Michael's flames in Hemant. He no longer held back , he responded to her kiss with passion. When the kiss ended , a tiny stream of saliva bridged their lips together.
"Finish it. But don’t become the thing you’re trying to kill"
He looked at her—at the woman who’d once stood at his side when the world was black and who’d chosen a different road—and felt something like clarity.
"I won’t" he said.
It wasn’t a promise that erased the past. It was a choice for the next step. They turned away from the cranes together, two people who knew the cost of their war. Lightning had cut the night earlier; now the sky was clear. For a second, the echos of wings felt real, and both of them, in their own ways, readied for what came next.
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)