𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐓

The moment Arohi's body slumped lifelessly into his arms, Dev felt it. That intoxicating rush of triumph, sharp and overwhelming, as though the universe itself had bowed to his will. She was unconscious now, fragile, defenseless, and yet so utterly his. Victory curled at the edges of his lips, but it was not a smile of warmth. It was darker, hungrier.

He looked down at her pale face, strands of damp hair sticking to her temples, her lips parted as if caught mid-protest. There was no sound now, only the shallow rise and fall of her chest against him. For a moment, he let himself just stare. Stare at what he had broken. Stare at what he owned.