The morning didn't break with sunshine; it arrived in shades of bruised purple and grey.

Outside the window, the sky was a heavy blanket of dark clouds, suffocating the sun and casting a gloomy shadow over the entire room. The heavy curtains were drawn, but they couldn't hide the dull oppression of the weather. Aira blinked her eyes open, the grogginess of sleep fading into the dull ache of reality.

She lay still for a moment, her breath hitching as the memories of last night rushed back—the burns, the tears, the cold fear. Slowly, she turned her head to the other side of the bed.

It was empty.
More than empty, it was cold. The pristine sheets were unwrinkled, untouched.

Aira sat up, clutching the duvet to her chest, her heart beating a nervous rhythm against her ribs. A frown pulled at her brows, her gaze scanning the large, imposing master bedroom. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for a trace of him—his coat, his shoes, the lingering scent of his cologne. But there was no sign of Karan. The silence in the house felt heavy, almost oppressive.

"Did he even come home last night?" The thought lingered for a second before she pushed it away. She remembered his voice from last night, that terrifying whisper against her temple promising that she couldn't escape. But had that been real, or a nightmare conjured by her feverish exhaustion?

He was a doctor, after all. Maybe he had an emergency? Or maybe he was just downstairs, already demanding his breakfast with that cold, authoritative tone he always used. She pushed the thoughts away. It didn't matter to her. If he wasn't here, it was a small mercy. A chance to breathe.

She threw the duvet off her legs and shivered slightly as the cool morning air hit her skin. She grabbed her robe, wrapping it tightly around her small frame—a layer of armor she desperately needed in this house.

Dragging her body out of bed, she hissed in pain as her burned hand brushed against the fabric. She cradled it against her chest, walking toward the bathroom.

The tiles were cold beneath her bare feet. She avoided looking at herself in the mirror too long—the dark circles under her eyes told a story she didn't want to read. She quickly brushed her teeth and splashed her face with water, careful to keep her injured hand dry.

She opted for comfort over style, pulling on a pair of thick, grey sweatpants and an oversized woollen sweater that swallowed her small frame. The sleeves were long enough to hide her hands—to hide the injury.

Stepping out of the room, the house felt like a tomb. Massive, expensive, and utterly silent, she headed downstairs. The house was dead silent, save for the soft clinking of cookware from the kitchen.

Aira walked into the dining area. The table was empty. No Karan.
"Good morning, honey" the maid said softly, from behind the kitchen counter.

Aira offered a smile and sat down, picking at the edge of the toast. "Has... has Karan eaten already?"

The maid paused, looking up with a confused expression. "Sir? No, honey. I haven't seen him since morning. So, I don't know. Maybe he didn't come home last night". she said.

Aira's hand stilled.
"So, he hadn't come home. The realization settled in her chest" A strange mix of relief and unease settled in her chest. Relief that she didn't have to face his intense, dark gaze this morning.
But unease... because where was he? Karan was obsessive. He was controlling. It wasn't like him to leave her unsupervised for an entire night without a word. He usually had eyes everywhere.

She went into the thoughts again while eating her food. "Was he saving lives, being the hero the world thought he was?"
"Well, how can he be a doctor and a monster who hurts people who don't listen to him. Sometimes I doubt that if he is really a doctor or not."

"You need anything else dear?" maid asked making Aira jumped out of thoughts. "No, thank you." Aira said offering a faint, tired smile. 

She chewed her food mechanically, her mind drifting to the image of Karan in his white coat, focused and professional or perhaps sleeping in his office chair.

But Aira was wrong.

Karan wasn't sleeping.
And he certainly wasn't saving lives last night.
He was taking them apart.

🥀🥀🥀

Last night.
It was a dark, concrete room. No windows. No ventilation. The air smelled of damp mold and rust. The only source of light was a single, naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly and casting long, disturbing shadows against the peeling walls.

In the center of the room, a figure was slumped over a metal chair.
Ayden.
His head hung low, chin resting on his chest, unconscious. Thick ropes bound his wrists and ankles to the chair, cutting into his skin.

Splash.
Ice-cold water hit Ayden's face with the force of a hammer.

He gasped, his body jerking violently against the restraints. He coughed, sputtering water, his eyes flying open in panic. "What the..." Ayden coughed, shaking his head to clear the water from his eyes.

The man who had thrown the bucket of water stepped back silently, retreating into the darkness of the corner like a loyal guard dog.

Creeeeak.
The heavy metal door at the front of the room groaned open.

Ayden froze, his breathing ragged, water dripping from his hair onto his eyelashes. His heart hammered against his ribs as a tall, broad figure stepped inside. The man was dressed in all black—a black shirt, black trousers—blending into the shadows so perfectly it looked like he was born from them.

He didn't speak. He just walked, with a slow, predatory elegance, the sound of his shoes clicking against the concrete floor echoing like a countdown.

The man stopped a few feet away from Ayden. The light from the bulb didn't reach his face, keeping his features hidden in the gloom.

The flame of a lighter flared to life, illuminating a sharp jawline and a pair of cold, dead eyes. The man dipped his head, lighting the cigarette between his lips. He took a long, deep drag, the tip of the cigarette glowing an angry red in the semi-darkness.

He exhaled slowly, a thick cloud of grey smoke curling up into the stale air.

The man stepped forward into the light, his devilish smirk playing on his lips as he looked down at his prey.

"Wake up, baby," he whispered leaning close to ayden's ear, his voice low and terrifyingly calm. The light flared, revealing the devil himself.
Karan.

🥀🥀🥀

Author's note:-
And so it begins. Aira thinks he's working, but Karan is... busy.
What do you think he has planned for Ayden? And will Aira find out?

Wanna know what happens next with Ayden ? well then, don't forget to vote and comment!. 
😉❤️