𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗:- 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐓𝐨

【Ａｕｔｈｏｒ＇ｓ　ｐｏｖ：】

He shakes his head, trying to clear the haze of emotion clouding his judgment. When he looks at her again, there's a hardness in his gaze, a desperate attempt to shield himself from the vulnerability she inspires. "I'm not your everything. I'm just a man, flawed and broken. Capable of cruelty, of destruction. You deserve better than me."

"I only deserve the person i love, and thats you. I don't want anyone better, disgusting I don't even think about anyone."

Vania speak stubbornly.

Rudra's face contorts in a mixture of disgust and anguish at vania's words. The notion that she could ever love someone like him, with his dark past and twisted nature, is unbearable. He feels like he's drowning in the intensity of her devotion, suffocating under the weight of her unwavering faith in him.

"Stop it, vania!" he roars, his voice echoing through the room.

He reaches out, grabbing her chin roughly and forcing her to meet his gaze. "I'm not the hero you think I am. I'm a monster. a beast without a soul himself. Do you have any idea what I am? What I've done?" And you...you would ruin yourself on me, waste your purity on a man who doesn't deserve it."

"I rather be ruin on you then being cherished somewhere else."

She speak. This sentance. Threaten his whole sanity. Good this woman is dangerous.

Rudra's eyes blaze with a fierce, primal intensity at vania's declaration. Her words cut deep, striking at the very core of his being. He feels like she's peeling back layers of armor, exposing the raw, bleeding wounds beneath.

"You're insane," he spits, his grip on her chin tightening until she winces.

"Delirious with a love that's misguided, misplaced. You think I'd ever cherish you? That I could offer you anything but pain and despair?"

He releases her abruptly, taking a step back as if burned by her proximity.

His chest heaves with ragged breaths, his mind reeling from the force of his own desires.

"I’ll destroy you, vania," he whispers.

But it doesn’t land like a threat.

It lands like a confession. A broken prayer.

A warning.

A prophecy whispered in the dark—the kind that always comes true.

"If you stay close to me… if you keep clinging to this foolish dream we stitched together with bloody fingers and blind hope… I’ll reduce you to ashes. I’ll ruin you so thoroughly, even your shadow won’t recognize you."

And still… she doesn’t move.

Doesn’t blink.

Doesn’t run.

Because she knows.

Deep in her bones, beneath every layer of logic and fear and shame—

She already belongs to the fire.

Rudra turns away, fast. Like a man escaping a burning building—Only he is the fire, and she is the only place he’s ever felt warmth.

He walks. Stalks. Like he’s being chased by his own reflection.

From her. From himself. From the hunger clawing at his chest—feral, forbidden, fucked up. He needs to leave. Because if he stays one second longer…

He doesn’t know what the fuck might happen next. He might fall. He might break. He might choose her. And Rudraksh Martin does not choose weakness. But in his desperate attempt to shove Vania away like a cursed relic—He’s coming undone. Piece by jagged piece. Feeling things he swore he buried in the grave of his childhood.

Drowning in a girl who doesn’t just believe in him…

She worships him. Like a religion. Like a rebellion.

He slams the door behind him. The sound echoes like a gunshot.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fucking hell!"

He paces, wild-eyed. Hair disheveled. Mind cracking open like an egg on fire.

"How the fuck could Maa (mom) do this to me? Knowing damn well I’m miles away from anything remotely human—and still she plays matchmaker with a lovesick lamb? Manipulative woman! She planted this fragile rose in my fucking apocalypse!"

He grips the edge of the table. Knuckles white. Mind darker than midnight.

"She’s a pain in my brain… an itch I can’t scratch. A prayer I want to stab .Fucking hell, Vania… all I want to do is rip you apart, empty my bullets in your scalp just to stop you from saying ‘I love you’ in that goddamn voice… and save myself from that look in your eyes.

That look that says you see something good in me.

There is no fucking good in me!"

If he lets her in—if he lets her love him with that kind of reckless, radiant faith—She’ll burn his whole kingdom down.

"Nine fucking years younger… opposite in every way. And so goddamn innocent it makes me nauseous. That kind of soft? It’s radioactive to someone like me. She is untouchable."

Untouchable… yet marked.

By him.

Roaming around like fate dipped her in his vermilion.

His vermilion.

His fucking name.

On her.

"My blood boils when I see her like that. I want to claw my own skin off.

She deserves better. A life with sunlight and normalcy—not a man who breathes in violence and exhales chaos."

"I don’t want her kindness. I don’t want her love. I want power. I want fucking control. Love is a burden I never signed up for."

In Rudra’s world, love is the blade people hold to your throat while they kiss your forehead. And anyone who threatens him will become ashes—Even if it's her.

The only person on Earth who loves him without condition.

"I don't feel. Rudraksh Martin doesn’t feel. He terrifies. He dominates. She’ll go away. She’ll divorce me. I just have to become colder. Crueler. Show her the monster she refuses to see."

He laughs. A hollow, violent sound.

More a snarl than a chuckle.

“Vania, you don’t know how disgusting I really am. You don’t know what lengths I can go to for power. You think you’re saving me? Baby, I’m designing your downfall.”

“Tum mujhe bhagwan samajhti ho na? Toh ab dekho, tumhara bhagwan tumhe kis tarah ke narak mein le jaayega.”

(You think I’m your god, right? Then watch how your god drags you straight into hell.)

He collapses on the couch. Mind racing like a wolf in a cage.

Cruel ideas bloom like poison ivy—twisted, tempting. Contemplating how many ways there are to break her soft psyche. To dismantle her daydreams one by one.

To prove to her that loving him isn’t just hard—

It’s impossible.

Because this

isn’t love.

This is war.

And in his twisted love-hate game…

He intends to win.

· ─ ·𖥸· ─ ·