Rudhran’s POV

Walking away was the hardest thing I had ever done.

And I had done a lot of impossible things.

I could still feel her gaze on my back, burning into me like a brand. But I didn’t turn around.

Couldn’t.

Because if I looked at her—at those wide, defiant eyes, at the bruises marring her soft skin—my resolve would shatter.

I had spent my entire life making choices that kept me alive. This was the first time I was making one that killed me.

But then—

“Rudhran.”

Her voice.

Soft. Unyielding.

I heard her footsteps before I felt her fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping me mid-step.

My body locked.

She wasn’t supposed to fight me on this. She was supposed to listen.

“Let me go, Amrutha.”

My words were rough. Final.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she stepped closer, pressing against my back, her fingers tightening.

“I won’t,” she whispered. “Not this time.”

A sharp breath left me, my jaw clenching so hard it ached.

I didn’t turn around.

I should have ripped my arm away. Should have left her standing in that bloodstained courtyard, let her hate me for it.

But then she did something I never expected.

She slid her fingers down—until she intertwined them with mine.

My pulse stopped.

My breath caught.

The world shrank down to the heat of her skin, to the way her fingers fit so damn perfectly in my palm.

She had never touched me like this before.

Not voluntarily.

Not deliberately.

I exhaled slowly, my control slipping.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing.” My voice was low, hoarse.

“I do.”

No hesitation. No fear.

I turned then.

And I shouldn’t have.

Because the second I saw her, saw the determination in her eyes, saw the way her lips trembled but her hands never wavered—

I knew I was losing.

Losing to her.

Losing to this feeling inside me, the one I had been fighting since the day she walked into my life.

She took another step closer, her free hand reaching up—hovering near my face but not touching.

Not yet.

“Every time you push me away, Rudhran,” she whispered, “I find my way back to you.”

A muscle in my jaw twitched.

“This isn’t a game, Amrutha.”

She smiled. Soft. Bitter.

“You think I don’t know that?”

My throat tightened.

She was stubborn. Too stubborn.

But this—this wasn’t about her.

It was about me.

“I’ll ruin you,” I said.

A confession. A warning.

Her gaze softened, but her grip never loosened.

“You already have.”

My chest ached.

And then—before I could stop myself—

I lifted my free hand and cupped her jaw.

Her breath hitched, her lashes fluttering.

I shouldn’t have touched her.

But I had no choice.

Because she was touching me.

And I had never wanted anything more than I wanted her.

The urge to kiss her—to claim her, to make her mine—was unbearable.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned in, my forehead brushing against hers, my voice barely above a whisper.

“If you stay, Amrutha…” I swallowed hard. “There’s no turning back.”

Saying this I immediately turned and walked back toward the main gate of house. One more minute and I will loose to her.

Blood dripped from my fingers, seeping into the cracks of the stone floor as I sat on the cold steps of the inner courtyard. My dhoti was soaked, clinging to my skin, the iron tang of blood thick in the air. Some of it was mine. Most of it wasn’t.

The silence around me was suffocating.

My uncle and cousin stood before me, their heads bowed. My men lined the walls of the courtyard, their gazes lowered, their bodies rigid with shame.

Not one of them spoke.

Because they knew.

They knew I had won the fight. But they also knew—I had lost something much bigger.

Amrutha.

She hadn’t stepped inside the house with me.

I had stormed in, waiting for the soft echo of her footsteps behind mine. But the sound never came.

She was gone.

A sharp pain twisted in my chest, but I didn’t move. I just sat there, drenched in blood and rain, my breaths slow and measured.

Had I been a fool to believe she would stay?

Had I—

A new thought struck me, slicing through my mind like a blade.

What if they had attacked her?

The courtyard had been chaos. I had been too consumed with rage, too busy destroying the bastards who dared to step into my world. What if—

No.

I would have known.

Wouldn’t I?

The silence thickened. My fists clenched.

Then—

A sound.

Soft at first. Then louder.

Her anklets.

A sharp exhale left me. My muscles locked, my head snapping up.

And there she was.

Amrutha.

Standing at the entrance of the courtyard, the firelight from the torches casting long shadows over her face. Her sari was still damp, clinging to her frame, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders.

Her dark eyes met mine—unwavering.

Determined.

My chest heaved, something dark and uncontainable surging inside me.

She had stayed.

For a moment, no one breathed.

Then—something inside me snapped.

I shot to my feet. My voice thundered through the courtyard.

“WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU ALL ?”

Every man flinched. My uncle’s head jerked up, my cousin tensed.

I took a step forward, my bloodied hands clenching at my sides.

“When the goons attacked,” I roared, my voice like a whip, “WHERE WERE MY MEN? . THIS IS WHY I HAVE KEPT YOU GUYS HERE ?? TO EAT AND SLEEP. BLODDY USELESS ”

No one dared to speak.

My heart pounded like war drums, fury clawing through my veins. I turned sharply to my uncle and cousin, my voice dropping to something colder, more dangerous.

“Is this how we run this house?” I asked, deadly quiet. “With security so weak that they could walk right in?”

My cousin flinched. “Ayya—”

“There are women in this house!” I snarled. “And you allowed them to be vulnerable?”

A muscle in my uncle’s jaw twitched. My cousin looked away, shame etched into his face.

Cowards.

I turned to my men, my voice like a blade.

“You all swore loyalty to me,” I spat. “You swore to protect what’s mine. And tonight? Tonight, you failed.”

The air was thick with tension, the weight of my words crushing down on everyone present.

Except her.

Amrutha.

She still stood there, watching. Unflinching. Unshaken.

I exhaled roughly, my fury like a storm inside me. I wanted to break something. Destroy something.

But then—

The sharp chhan-chhan of her anklets cut through the silence again.

Slow. Deliberate.

She was walking toward me.

And I—

I couldn’t move.

I could only watch as she closed the distance between us, her eyes locked onto mine.

She stopped just inches away, tilting her chin up slightly, her dark gaze burning with something I couldn’t name.

Then, softly—so softly only I could hear—she said,

“I told you, Rudhran. I’m not leaving.”

My breath came sharp, my fingers twitching.

I wanted to push her away.

I wanted to pull her closer.

I wanted to ruin her.

But all I could do was stare at her, the weight of her words settling into my bones.

She wasn’t afraid of my rage.

She wasn’t afraid of me.

And that—that was the most dangerous thing of all.

Because if she wasn’t afraid—

Then there was no stopping what was coming next.

Bye bye.

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