Mumbai 5 a.m.
Kiara's POV
I was sitting in the corner of the hallway of my house, knees pulled to my chest, palms pressed tight against my ears. The walls shook with ay parent's voices. Mummy's sobs ecohoed, Papa's shouting thundered, and the rest of the family joined in with their own accusations. My head spun but the chaos inside me was louder all of them, my cousins try to calm me but it was deaf in my ear.
Then- slap!
My father's hand struck across my mother's check, My eyes went wide in horror. Her head Jerked to side cheek red blood at corner of her lips.
I Jerked awake, my heart hammering, sweat dampening my skin. Head spinning, ears deaf for a moment. It wasn't just a dream It was my past. My nightmares. Every night new one. They had haunted me since I was 5 years old.
I glanced at the alarm clock flashing 5:00a.m., its shrill buzz cutting through the silence.
Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled into the washsroom. cold water against my face, brushing my teeths, tying my hairs. by the time I pulled on my black leggings and tante top, laced up my sneakers, and shoved earbuds into my ears, I felt ready to face the morming.
Jogging through the empty out my streets, I let the music drown out my thoughts. for forty minutes, it was just heartbeat, the rhythm steady, controlled, unlike the mess inside my head. when I finally returned home the city had woken, but I felt like the lonely girl from my nightmare.
Yes, my home. not my parents's. I stopped living with them 2 years ago. They didn't care much. They had their money, part of my salary transferred every mouth, and that was enough for them.
I'm Kiara Roy. Twenty-fours. A chartered Accountant. A daughter they never wanted, except to tick the box of badi beti.
After a shower, I Slipped into my usual work clothes - crisp white shirt, fitted black trousers, black sandals. A touch of gloss, a hint of makeup. Purse, car keys On the way down, the maid was preparing breakfast.
"Good morning," I greeted.
She smiled softly. "Good morning, beta."
I placed my purse and keys on the dining table and walked towards the temple in the corner of the hallway of house. Removing my sandals, I lit incense sticks, the soft rose fragrance of agarbatti rising in the air. folding my hands before Lord Krishna, I started chanting Mantras and, I whispered, "krishna ji, sab theek rakhna. Mujhe pata hai aap hamesha mere sath ho...aur hamesha rahoge. Radhe Radhe."
(“Krishna ji, keep everything well. I know you are always with me… and you always will be. Radhe Radhe.”)
The prayer steadied me, if only a little but still much. I put on my sandals again, ate my breakfast in silence, washed my hands, and gathered my things and walked out of my house.
One last look at my house. Sliding into my driver's seat of my black sleek BMW M4, I turned the key, the engine roared to life, the sound vibrating through me. A small smile tugged at my lips.
On the road, away from the family who never wanted me- I almost felt free.
By 8:00 a.m., I reached my office. My CA firm. My place.
The guards opened the doors as I stepped inside, greeting me warmly. I smiled and returned it- respect was my rule. They worked under me, but that didn't make them less human.
Employees greeted me as I walked past. Their voices filling filling the lobby. I acknowledged them with the same courtesy before stepping into the elevator. My finger pressed the button for the sixth floor- my floor.
The elevator chimed and the doors slid open.
My PA was already hurrying towards me, tablet in hand, her face bright with energy. "Good morning, ma'am," she said almost breathless.
I give her a polite nod. "Good morning. How's everything going?"
She smiled, professional but excited. "Everything's fine."
After she give me all details, I pushed open the door of my cabin, sunlight spilling through the glass windows across the Skyline of Mumbai. I slid into my leather chain. Leaned back, and allowed myself a rare moment of quiet happiness.
Author's POV
5:00 a.m. Bangalore
A Shrill alarm clock sliced through the silence of the villa.
The man lying in the enormous bed stirred, one muscled arm stretching lazily before he pushed himself upright. The Silk Sheets slid off his torso, revealing a body that looked carved from stone- broad shoulders, taut abs , every live sculpted with merciless precision.
Across his back, spanning from one shoulder blade to the other, a wild dragon tattoo sprawled, its black ink twisting dangerously over one hard muscle, flames curling towards his spine. the beast looked alive, as through it were breathing with him.
He stood towering, every inch radiating power and danger. His hairs was messy from sleep, thick and dark Falling in disarray that only made him look more feral. His eyes - Pitch black sharp like a wild animal, unreadable- were the kind that swallowed light whole.
He was beautiful yet dangerous. He was terrifying yet captivating. He was unreadable yet calculated.
The phone on his bedside table buzzed. Without hesitation, he picked it up
and pressed it to his ear. He listened, silent. His expresion didn't shift, but at the end, the corner of his lips tilled into a smirk - cold, dangerous, Satisfied promising ruin. His gaze turned darker, deeper, sharper, as if the call had set something violent into motion.
He ended the call without a word.
The man stepped out of his room and down the long corridors, his bare feet silent against polished luxurious marble. Chandeliers glittered above his head, their light catching against the glass walls of the villa. finally, he slip open the glass door, walked into the backyard where a private gym stood encased in glass.
The air outside was cool, carrying the faint scent of wet earth. Inside the glass walled gym, machines gleamed in neat order. He entered gripping the dumbbells like weapons, and began his routine. Each movement was precise, ruthless, veins standing out along his arms as sweat traced down his back, gliding over the ink of the Dragon.
This was no ordinary man.
This was Black Dragon.
And the devil was just awake.
Black dragon's POV
7:00 AM
After two hows of workout, I grab the towel and wipe the sweat off my face, muscles flexing with every movement. I gulp down water from the bottle and breathe deeply. workout isn't just fitness for me- it's control. it's discipline. it's the only time of day when my demons are quiet.
I walk back inside the villa. the silence is sharp- The kind of silence that belongs to power. I head Straight to my room and into the bathroom. I stand under shower, open the tab. and let the cold water hits my body, slicing through the heat of exertion. For twenty mins, I let it run, cooling every nerve, grounding me.
When I step out, I wrap a towel around my waist, walked into my walk-in wardrobe, and start dressing. A crisp white shirt. Black tailored pants. Matching coat. Socks and black leather shoes. I stand infront of the mirror, dry and fix my hair neatly, put on my rolex, and stare at my reflection, calm, sharp, untouched.
Downstairs, the dining area is already set. The chef placed my breakfast Silently. I sit and begin to eat - quiet, steady until that familiar, irritating sound of heels echoes the hallway.
Fu¢k. Not again.
She storms in like she damns owns to place, perfume suffocating the air, her shrill voice already grating my nerves.
"oh darling, here you are! what are you eating?"
She slides into the chair beside me, all fake sweetness and she started her bullshits.
Then- crash!
My hands slams on the table, glass shattered under my palm. The echo of it stills everything. She flinches, eyes wide with fear and shock, her voice trembling.
"Ira," I say my voice low and dangerously cold, each wondy sharp as a knife,"Just. Shut. up."
She srammers, "o-oh... s-sorry... actually I just.. just wanted to ask if you'd go shopping with me, if... if you're busy, it's okay -"
"I'm busy." I cut her off, my tone flat and final. "And I'm not like others who waste time on shopping. So go."
Her face pales. She stood up, gathered her things with shaking hands, and left quickly- heels clicking against the marble until the sound fades away.
Finally, silence again.
She is Ira Kapoor. Daughter of Ritesh Kapoor - another self obsessed rich bastard. My father wants me to marry her for business benifits.
But I'm not interested.
Even my bua tried to convince me - her voice was soft, her eyes pleading and since I can't even say no to her, I told her maybe. Not yes. Not ever. But Ira, stupid an she is, took it seriously. She's been showing up here every damn day, pretending this house is hers. But I have no time for that. I don't do love. I don't do attachments. There is something far more important waiting for me- and she, or anyone else, can't come in the way.
I Stand, push back the chair, and head towards the front door.
The morning sun falls across my black Aston Martin parked in my private garage. My cars - lines of luxury beasts - gleam under the light, but I only look at one. The black one. Always the black one.
Sliding into the driver's seat, I started the engine. The engine's roar fills the Silence car roll on driveway of estate as cas approach at the main gate the guards at the gate bow their heads and open it.
I drive out of the estate, leaving behind the broken glass, the silence, and the woman who never meant anything.
I'm not that kind of person who disrespect any woman but she is not that woman who deserves respect. I know who she is. what is her past.
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