The dying sun bled crimson across the sandstone walls of Ratan Vilas, casting long, predatory shadows that seemed to reach for Varidhi with grasping fingers. The ancient fortress had witnessed centuries of passion, betrayal, and bloodshed—and tonight, she could feel the weight of that history pressing against her skin like a lover's whisper.

Aniruddha moved beside her with the fluid grace of a predator, his son Adhikrit sleeping peacefully in arms that could just as easily crush as cradle. The dichotomy fascinated her—this man who could be devastatingly tender with his child yet radiated an aura of barely contained violence that made her pulse race with equal parts fear and desire.