Har chaal ka hisaab tha, har kadam soch-samajh kar uthana tha,

Jeet sirf maqsad nahi, apnon ko bhi mehfooz bachana tha.

Ab faisle jazbaaton se nahi, dimaag se hone the—

Jung shuru hone se pehle, dushman ko maat dene ka naqsha banana tha.

The penthouse was suffocatingly quiet tonight. The heavy lilac dawn had long since turned into a pitch-black midnight, and the entire residential tier felt like a weapon waiting to be uncocked.

Downstairs, the strategy boards were dark. Every single person had been assigned their role; each member of the alliance knew their exact movements for tomorrow. The game plan Eklavya had formulated over those long hours in the study was nothing short of a masterpiece. Damn, it was a terrifyingly brilliant game plan. He wasn’t aiming to simply put a bullet in Jagat Ranganathan's head—death was entirely too easy an escape for a man like that. Instead, Eklavya was orchestrating a slow, agonizing, and brutal destruction. Tomorrow, every single club house, every dummy corporation, and every black-market bank account tied to Jagat’s name was going to be systematically dismantled and burned to the ground.

Because men like Jagat weren't born monsters; they were meticulously created.

The world hadn't turned Jagat into a beast—his own stepmother had twisted him into the soulless creature he was today. Beneath the clean, high-profile corporate front, Jagat ran a lawless tier of absolute horror. Young, innocent girls were bought, sold, and traded like lifeless toys just to warm up the beds of corrupt politicians. Human organs were harvested and auctioned off to the highest bidder to fund his political campaigns. Oh my God. The sheer scale of the rot was stomach-turning.

Luckily, my husband’s reach was boundless. Eklavya didn't just command a shadow army of black-clothed operatives; his network extended deep into the legitimate systems, holding high-ranking police officers, central bureau chiefs, and intelligence directors under his thumb.

And then, there was Siddhant bhaiya. Standing tall as a massive political leader within the mafia framework, he had used his own hidden inner circles to unearth the final, damning details about Jagat’s political shell companies today. The trap was fully set. The execution sequence was locked in.

I looked down at the dark velvet night gown I had worn for midnight—his favorite color—and let out a slow, steady breath. The time for panic was over. Eklavya's masterstroke was ready, and tomorrow, the entire city would watch Jagat Ranganathan's empire crumble to ashes.

For months, a bitter question had been eating away at my sanity—I kept wondering why my husband hadn't taken immediate, violent action against Jagat. I had mistakenly thought he was letting the monster slip away. But standing here in the quiet of the night, the truth was blindingly clear: I hadn't realized Eklavya was quietly engineering a catastrophic end, a masterpiece of destruction designed to wipe Jagat Ranganathan entirely off the map.

I wanted that bastard dead just as much as Eklavya did. I wanted to pull the trigger myself for what he did to our child, but I had a much more critical task to execute tomorrow.

My main assignment for the morning was to unearth Aishwarya Mehrotra's true history—and luckily, Reyansh bhaiya had already cracked the first layer of the puzzle.

Through his own relentless, off-grid investigative channels, Reyansh bhaiya had discovered that Aishwarya’s biological chacha and chachi (uncle and aunt) were currently living right here in Germany, hidden away in a quiet outskirts tier. They were the primary keepers of her past, the only ones who knew who she truly was before Jagat faked her 2025 burial and harvested her metrics to build a psychological weapon against us.

Reyansh bhaiya had used his own specialized tactical unit to locate them, establishing a secure surveillance grid around their residence without tripping Jagat’s massive political alarms.

Tomorrow, while Eklavya and the rest of the alliance unleashed a synchronized physical and economic firestorm onto Jagat’s clubs and dummy banks, I would be extracting the truth from that house. We were going to rip the wraps off the deception once and for all. If Jagat thought he could use a ghost to shatter my sanctuary, he was about to realize that his own web of lies was the very rope Eklavya would use to hang him.

The stinging smell of the red chili seasoning sizzling on the kitchen stove completely blurred, and for a fleeting second, the safehouse kitchen tier dissolved into a dark, rain-soaked abyss. The memory didn't just drift back; it violently clawed its way to the surface, dragging me right back to the freezing asphalt, the deafening crunch of reinforced steel, and the sickening, white-hot pain that had shot through my lower abdomen.

I gripped the edge of the marble counter so hard my knuckles turned a stark white, the wooden ladle trembling in my hand.

Did Eklavya find out or not? Did he finally locate the exact monster who engineered that execution trap?

My blood ran cold as the details of the crash locked behind my eyelids. It hadn't been Jagat who crouched beside the crushed, spiderwebbed glass of my rolled SUV. It had been a man carrying the exact same tall, imposing frame as my husband. The same sharp jawline. The same blood. A living, breathing shadow built from the exact same aristocratic DNA—a lethal consequence of the blood war Eklavya thought he had won.

"Hello, bhabhi," his voice had echoed through the wreckage, a corrupted, predatory whisper entirely devoid of the fierce devotion that anchored Eklavya's soul.

He had stood there with detached, clinical curiosity, casually tracing the blood-stained steel of the doorframe while the wails of emergency sirens echoed in the far distance. He was the secret twin. The hidden brother who had stolen my child and left me to burn in the damp, toxic air of the wreckage.

"Pari?"

A large, gauze-wrapped hand gently came to rest against the small of my back, the sudden, physical warmth instantly shattering the memory and pulling me right back into the sunlit penthouse kitchen. I gasped softly, my eyes fluttering open to find Eklavya standing right beside me. His dark stardust eyes were fixed on my face, swimming with an intense, protective concern as he read the raw, murderous fury tightly knotted in my features.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," he murmured, his gravelly voice a low, soothing friction against my skin.

I forced a slow, freezing breath past my lips and turned down the flame beneath the serving pots, my focus locking onto the steady rise of the steam. The raw, bleeding vulnerability that had kept me trapped in the shadows of that loss was gone, entirely replaced by a cold, calculating resolve. Tomorrow’s operational matrix was clear: the alliance would dismantle the corporate empire, and Reyansh would locate the hidden family archives. But my soul demanded a far more personal settlement. If that monstrous anomaly ever emerged from the dark to threaten my sanctuary again, I would use the lethal survival instincts Eklavya had forged inside me to tear his life away with my own bare hands.

"It's just... thinking about tomorrow, and Siddhant bhaiya," I spoke to him, my voice softening as I leaned back slightly against his bare chest, my eyes remaining fixed on the steam rising from the dinner pots. "He found out about Jagat's true network through his inner circles today. The sheer scale of the horror that man runs... it's just a lot to process while standing here in the kitchen."

Eklavya didn't say a word. Instead, his arms tightened securely around my waist, his massive frame shifting to envelope me completely in his protective warmth. The rough texture of the white gauze wrapping his injured knuckles grazed my side—a quiet, physical reminder of the lengths he would go to to keep our sanctuary safe tonight while the food simmered on the stove.

"Siddhant's data just confirmed what I already suspected, Pari," he murmured, his gravelly voice dropping into a low, velvet rumble against my ear. His chest expanded with a slow, steady breath that instantly grounded my internal thoughts. "The Oberoi alliance has locked down every digital asset. Tomorrow, we aren't just pushing his squads back from our borders. We are erasing his entire corporate footprint."

I tilted my chin back, looking up into his clear, intense gaze in the warm light of the kitchen tier. The terrifying shadow lord who had engineered a brutal, multi-tier demolition plan was completely bare before me now, showing only the fierce, unyielding devotion that belonged to me alone.

"I know," I whispered, sliding my hand up to rest flat against his chest, feeling the calm, synchronized rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. "Reyansh bhaiya found the Mehrotra family archives too. Tomorrow, while you and the partners burn his empire, I will tear the wraps off his deception grid."

A dark, dangerous pride flashed beneath his dark lashes. He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine, his hot breath brushing my lips as the quiet sanctuary of the penthouse insulated us completely from the outer grid.

"Then the trap is closed, wifey," he whispered, a slow, relaxed confidence finally settling over his jaw. "Let the shadows wait for the morning. Tonight, we finish this dinner in peace."

I felt the sudden change in his grip before I could even finish my thought.

Eklavya didn't let my mind wander back to the grim details of tomorrow's strategy or the horrors of Jagat's network. Instead, his arms slid up from my waist, his large, gauze-wrapped hands gently but firmly turning my body around until I was forced to face him completely. He leaned his massive frame forward, trapping me safely between his solid chest and the edge of the marble kitchen island.

"Pari," he murmured, his gravelly voice dropping into that deep, velvety pitch that instantly made the air in the kitchen feel warm and heavy. "No more business talk tonight."

Before I could reply, he dipped his head. His lips pressed a slow, hot kiss directly onto the side of my neck, right over my pulse point. I gasped softly, my fingers automatically clutching the soft fabric of his shirt as a sudden, electric shiver shot down my spine. He sucked gently against my skin, his stubble grazing my jaw with a possessive friction that completely wiped away the thoughts of the ledger, the corporate tracking nodes, and the incoming border war.

"Eklavya, wait... the dinner pots," I whispered breathlessly, my eyes fluttering shut as my head tilted back against his shoulder, completely surrendering my kitchen authority to his touch.

"The stove is off, sweetheart," he growled quietly against my skin, his hot breath fanning across my neck as his lips traced a burning path up to my chin. "The supervisor is officially off duty. Focus on me."

He leaned lower, his bare chest pressing firmly against mine, blocking out the rest of the penthouse and wrapping me in a private universe made entirely of his shadow. The dangerous underground kingpin had vanished completely, leaving only the husband who knew exactly how to soothe my racing heart and anchor my sanity in the dark.

He groans softly, his lips brushing against the warm skin of my jawline as his frustration finally snaps. I can feel the tension winding tight through his massive frame, a deep vibration that rolls straight out of his bare chest and into mine.

"These bandages... I don't want this," he mutters under his breath, his gravelly voice thick with irritation as he presses his forehead heavily against mine. "I'm already feeling better. My knuckles don't even hurt anymore, Pari."

To prove his point, he purposefully tightens his arms around my hips, leaning the solid weight of his body forward until I am pinned securely against the marble kitchen island. He wants the barriers gone. He wants to shed the last reminders of the forest ambush, the concrete gym tier, and the strict restrictions I placed on him at the breakfast table.

A tiny, breathless laugh escapes my lips, my eyes fluttering open to look up into his clear, intense gaze in the dim light. I don't take a step back. Instead, I slide my hands up his bare chest, my palms radiating a soothing heat to ground his rising impatience.

"Don't you dare touch those wraps, Eklavya," I warn softly, though my strict headmistress tone is entirely missing, replaced by a low, velvety amusement. "The skin split right down to the meat. If you flex your fingers now, the bleeding will start all over again, and I will personally double your morning medicine dose."

"The medicine is a sensory assault, and you know it," he replies deadpan, his dark stardust eyes narrowing as he tracks the warmth deepening on my cheeks. "The kitchen supervisor is being highly unreasonable with her patient."

"The kitchen supervisor is keeping you from breaking your own bones, you stubborn man," I fire back smoothly, my fingers gently tracing the line of his collarbone, offering the silent reassurance his chaotic mind needs to hear. "Now hold still."

A slow, dangerous glint suddenly flashes beneath his dark lashes, the playful irritation in his face melting away into an intense, calculating focus that makes the air between us turn instantly electric.

"Talking about medicine," he speaks to me, his gravelly voice dropping into a low, predatory rumble that vibrates right against my chest. He leans down another fraction of an inch, his lips nearly brushing mine as his shadow completely traps me against the counter. "You literally fed me two times today, Pari. I still remember every single spoon. And I remember my payment too."

My heart skips a beat against my ribs, a sudden, sweet flutter of anticipation hammering inside my chest.

He is talking about the bedroom terms he laid out at the dining table—the steep penalty he promised to collect the moment the rest of the house went to sleep. The reminder of that midnight clause sends a sharp, tingling heat straight to my toes, my fingers unconsciously tightening against the broad fabric of his shoulders as I look up into his heavy, hooded gaze.

"Eklavya," I whisper breathlessly, my voice betraying the total breakdown of my strict administrative authority. "You are still on medical probation. The doctor's orders—"

"The doctor didn't say anything about midnight, wifey," he growls softly against my lips, his jaw brushing mine with a slow, deliberate friction. He doesn't use his swathed knuckles, keeping his hands perfectly flat against the marble on either side of my hips, but the unyielding weight of his frame leaves absolutely no room for escape. "The transaction is overdue, and I am a very impatient investor."

A helpless, flustered laugh escapes my mouth as his breath fans across my skin, completely erasing the last lingering traces of the outer world's chaos.

Before I can offer another teasing counter-argument, he closes the final fraction of an inch between us and captures my lips.

The kiss is deep, unhurried, and thick with an absolute, possessive heat that completely takes my breath away. He keeps his arms pinned safely at his sides, protecting the fresh white gauze wrapping his knuckles, but he presses the solid, heavy weight of his chest fully against mine. The contact is electric. A soft, involuntary moan escapes my throat, my body instantly melting against the hard contours of his frame like warm wax.

My hands slide up from his chest, my palms smooth against the heat of his bare shoulders, before my fingers tangle securely into the dark hair at the back of his neck, pulling him down deeper into the space we share.

The quiet of the kitchen tier swallows us whole. There is no tomorrow, no shadow twin, and no bitter corporate war waiting on a strategy monitor downstairs. There is only the intoxicating scent of his woodsmoke cologne mixing with the vanilla of my hair wash, and the fierce, unyielding rhythm of his heart hammering directly against my ribs.

When he finally pulls back a mere fraction of an inch, our breaths are coming in short, ragged, and synchronized gasps.

I flutter my eyes open, my vision heavy and dazed with the sudden, raw desire flashing inside his stardust eyes. My lips feel flushed and warm, and I know my cheeks are stained a beautiful, deep crimson under his intense stare.

"Eklavya," I whisper, my voice a tiny, shaky vibration against his mouth as my fingers gently twist into the soft fabric of his shirt. "You really are... completely incorrigible."

"I am a man collecting a debt, sweetheart," he murmurs, his jaw brushing against the soft line of my cheek as he trails a slow, burning path down to the sensitive skin of my neck. His lips find my pulse point once more, sucking softly against the frantic beat of my veins. "And high command has officially run out of excuses."

I let out a breathless sigh, my head tilting back against his shoulder to give him completely unhindered access. The strict kitchen supervisor is officially gone, leaving only the woman who belongs entirely to the dark, dangerous man holding her sanctuary safe in the night.

Before I can even process the sudden shift in the air, he swoops me up into his embrace with a sudden, fluid sweep of his arms. My breath hitches sharply as my feet leave the marble floor, my body lifted effortlessly against the broad, solid expanse of his chest. He navigates the darkness with absolute, unhurried steps, walking upstairs toward our master bedroom tier without a single grunt of effort.

The steady, heavy rhythm of his stride only makes my heart pound frantically against my ribs, a rapid drumming that resonates straight into my throat.

I am damn sure he is going to punish me. He is going to stretch this midnight payment out until I am completely breathless, teasing me for every single pediatric tablet and spoon of food until I am forced to beg for mercy from him.

The sheer intensity of his focus makes a delicious shiver trail straight down to my toes. God save me.

Unable to hold his burning, heavy gaze in the dim light of the stairwell tier, I bite my lip hard, trying to swallow back a nervous, giddy gasp. I lower my eyelashes, letting the shadows veil my flushed features as I completely abandon the last remaining shred of my composure. I bury my face deep into the warm crook of his neck, inhaling the intoxicating, rich blend of his woodsmoke amber cologne and the clean scent of his skin.

Eklavya lets out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrates directly against my cheek, his grip around my thighs tightening just a fraction as he pushes open the heavy mahogany bedroom door.

"The kitchen rules don't apply past this threshold, sweetheart," he growls softly against my hair, the sound thick with a dark, relaxed confidence. "The investor is about to settle the ledger."

The heavy mahogany door clicks shut behind him, sealing out the rest of the world and locking us into the absolute quiet of our dark master suite. He navigates the dim space with that slow, predatory grace, stepping directly toward the bed before gently laying me down onto the plush expanse of the linen sheets.

My heart hits a fresh, frantic rhythm against my ribs as his massive shadow descends, pinning me securely against the mattress.

Instead of immediately leaning down to capture my lips, Eklavya shifts his weight slightly. In the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains, he holds his hands up between us. With a slow, deliberate movement of his forearms, he begins peeling away the thick white cotton gauze.

I open my mouth to issue a swift, instinctive warning about his injuries, but the words die in my throat.

As the final layers of wrapping fall away onto the carpet, I see that the raw, bleeding skin from the heavy bag tier is gone. The tears are completely dry, closed up, and miraculously healed over by hours of rest. The thick ridges of his knuckles are smooth, showing only the fierce strength of the hands that rule a shadow empire.

A slow, devastatingly handsome smirk cuts across his jaw as he flexes his long fingers in the cool air, completely free of the medical restrictions.

"No more barriers, Pari," he murmurs, his gravelly voice dropping into a low, velvet purr that makes my skin tingle with static electricity. He slides his bare, smooth palms down the length of my arms, his touch radiating a burning heat that instantly sets the silk of my nightgown on fire. "The kitchen supervisor has officially run out of rules, and my hands function perfectly."

I bite my lip, my eyelashes fluttering closed as he leans his chest fully against mine, anchoring me to the bed with an absolute, unyielding devotion that leaves me completely breathless in the dark.

Eklavya’s newly freed hands slid under the silk of my nightgown with deliberate, unhurried precision — palms warm, fingers strong, no longer restricted by medical orders. He pushed the fabric up my thighs in one smooth motion, exposing me completely to the cool night air and the heat of his body.

“Transaction complete,” he murmured against my throat, voice low and darkly amused. “Interest has been accruing all day, Mrs. Raizada. Time to settle the full balance.”

I shivered as his mouth trailed lower, open and hot, leaving a slow, burning path down the center of my chest. One large hand cupped my breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak until it hardened under his touch. The other hand slid between my legs without hesitation, two fingers sinking into me in a single, deep stroke that made my back arch off the mattress.

A broken sound escaped my lips.

“Already this wet for your investor?” he asked, the words vibrating against my skin as he curled his fingers exactly the way he knew would undo me. “Looks like the kitchen supervisor has been thinking about this payment all evening.”

I could only cling to his shoulders, nails digging into bare muscle while he worked me open with slow, devastating precision. Every thrust of his fingers was measured, controlled — the same ruthless focus he brought to every boardroom deal, now turned entirely on me.

He lifted his head just enough to meet my eyes, stardust gaze heavy with dark satisfaction.

“I’m going to take my time collecting,” he said quietly. “Every moan. Every tremor. Every single sound you try to hold back. Consider it compound interest, baby.”

Then he lowered his mouth to my breast and sucked hard at the same moment his fingers drove deeper, and the last coherent thought in my head dissolved into pure, helpless sensation.

His mouth stayed locked on my breast, tongue circling the sensitive peak before he sucked harder, the wet heat sending sharp sparks straight down my spine. At the same time his fingers moved inside me with slow, ruthless precision — curling, pressing, stroking that perfect spot until my thighs trembled around his wrist.

The silk of my nightgown was bunched uselessly around my waist. Cool air kissed the damp skin of my inner thighs every time he withdrew his fingers, only to thrust them back in deeper. The wet sound of it filled the quiet suite, obscene and intimate in the dark.

“Listen to that,” he murmured against my skin, voice rough with satisfaction. “My wife is soaking the sheets and I haven’t even started collecting the full amount yet.”

A helpless moan slipped from my throat. My fingers dug into his bare shoulders, feeling the hard shift of muscle beneath warm skin. He smelled like woodsmoke and clean soap and something darker — pure Eklavya. Every breath I took was full of him.

He released my breast with a soft, wet sound and moved lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down my stomach. His free hand pinned my hip to the mattress so I couldn’t twist away from the intensity. When his mouth finally replaced his fingers, the first long, deliberate stroke of his tongue made my back arch hard off the bed.

“Eklavya—!”

He only hummed against me, the vibration traveling straight through my core. Two fingers slid back inside while his tongue focused on the swollen, oversensitive peak, licking and sucking in the same relentless rhythm he used when closing a deal he refused to lose.

My vision blurred at the edges. The only things I could feel were the heat of his mouth, the stretch of his fingers, and the heavy, possessive weight of his body keeping me exactly where he wanted me — open, trembling, and completely at the mercy of the man collecting every last bit of interest I owed him.

“Eklavya—!”

The scream tore from my throat as the orgasm crashed through me. My entire body locked up, thighs clamping around his head while I shattered against his mouth. The pleasure was sharp and overwhelming, pulsing in heavy waves that left me shaking. My clit throbbed so hard it bordered on pain — oversensitive, swollen, still trapped under the relentless attention of his tongue.

I couldn’t take it.

Even as the climax kept rolling through me, the direct stimulation became too much. With a broken, desperate sound I lifted my right hand and pushed it between my legs, fingers finding the throbbing peak. I rubbed myself in fast, frantic circles, trying to ease the intense, almost unbearable pulse while his mouth stayed sealed against me.

The dual sensation only made everything sharper.

His tongue never stopped. He licked through every tremor, every flutter, as if determined to draw the orgasm out for as long as possible. My own fingers moved faster, slick and trembling, chasing relief from the overstimulation while simultaneously feeding it. Soft, high whimpers spilled from my lips with every breath. My back arched off the mattress, nightgown tangled around my waist, the cool air of the suite kissing the sweat on my skin.

“Too much—” I gasped, voice cracking. “Eklavya, it’s—ahh—”

He only answered with a low, approving hum against my oversensitive flesh, the vibration shooting straight through my core and making my fingers falter for a second before I rubbed even harder. The wet sounds of his mouth and my own desperate touch filled the dark room, filthy and intimate, while my body continued to tremble through the endless aftershocks he refused to let end.

I was still trembling, fingers slow and shaky against my oversensitive clit, when Eklavya finally lifted his head.

His mouth was glistening, stardust eyes dark with satisfaction as he looked down at me sprawled across the bed. He wiped his lower lip with the back of his hand, then stood in one smooth motion.

“Where are you going?” I asked, voice still breathless.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he walked toward the large walk-in closet, the muscles in his bare back shifting under the low light. I pushed myself up on my elbows, watching him disappear between the racks of tailored shirts and dark suits.

“Eklavya?”

A soft metallic sound came from inside the closet. Then another. When he stepped back out, something dark and sleek dangled from his fingers — a leather-and-metal ankle spreader bar. My stomach flipped.

He also had one hand low, adjusting something I couldn’t quite see in the shadows.

“You’ve been very difficult today, Mrs. Raizada,” he said calmly as he returned to the foot of the bed. “Feeding me medicine like I’m an invalid. Reminding me of doctor’s orders. Acting like the kitchen supervisor instead of my wife.”

I swallowed.

“I was taking care of you—”

“And now I’m taking care of the balance.” He set the spreader bar on the mattress beside my feet. “Lie back. Legs open.”

A nervous, heated laugh escaped me. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.” His voice dropped into that low, commanding register that always made my pulse skip. “This is the penalty clause. You signed it the moment you decided to mother me all day. Now be a good girl and spread.”

I hesitated only a second before slowly obeying. He wrapped the soft cuffs around each ankle with practiced ease, then locked the bar between them, forcing my legs wide and keeping them there. The vulnerable position made heat rush to my face.

Only when he straightened did I notice the faint glint of metal at the base of his cock — a dark, thick piercing I had never seen before. My eyes widened.

“What is that?”

He glanced down, then back at me with a slow, dangerous smirk.

“New asset,” he said simply. “Acquired for special collections. You weren’t supposed to notice until it was already inside you.”

My breath caught.

He climbed back onto the bed, kneeling between my forced-open thighs, the metal of the piercing catching the light as he stroked himself once.

“Any last objections before I start collecting the rest of what you owe me, sweetheart?”

I could only stare up at him, heart hammering, legs locked open and completely at his mercy.

I stared up at him, legs forced wide by the spreader bar, heart still racing from the glint of metal I had just noticed.

“Are you a kinky husband?” I asked softly, the words coming out almost shy despite the filthy position he had put me in.

Eklavya’s dark eyes flicked down to where the thick piercing rested against the base of his cock, then back to my face. A slow, devastating smirk curved his mouth.

“For my wife,” he said, voice low and rough, “I am.”

He wrapped a hand around himself and stroked once, deliberately, so I could see the way the metal shifted with the movement. The sight made my stomach tighten.

“Only for you,” he continued, kneeling between my open thighs. “No one else gets this version of me. No one else gets the restraints, the piercing, or the full collection process.” His free hand slid up the inside of my thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to where I was still wet and sensitive. “You spent all day treating me like I was fragile. Now you’re going to take every single thing I give you.”

I swallowed hard, the leather cuffs cool against my ankles as I tested the bar. It didn’t budge.

“Eklavya…”

“Shh.” He leaned over me, the heat of his body blanketing mine, the cool metal of the piercing brushing against my entrance. “The only words I want to hear from you for the next hour are ‘yes,’ ‘please,’ and my name. Understood, Mrs. Raizada?”

A helpless shiver ran through me.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good girl.”

He pushed forward just enough for the thick head — and the hard, unfamiliar press of the piercing — to notch against me. The sensation was new, intense, almost overwhelming before he had even entered.

“Now relax for me,” he murmured against my lips. “I’m about to collect every last bit of interest you owe.”

He pushed forward slowly.

The thick head of him stretched me open first, familiar and overwhelming all at once. Then the cool, hard press of the piercing followed — a new, intense sensation that made my breath hitch sharply. The metal dragged against my sensitive walls as he sank deeper, inch by controlled inch, until he was fully seated inside me.

A broken sound left my throat.

“That’s it,” Eklavya murmured, voice rough with restraint. He stayed completely still for a moment, giving me time to adjust to the unfamiliar weight of the piercing. “Feel that? Every bit of it is yours.”

My legs trembled against the spreader bar. The forced-open position left me with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from the deep, complete fullness. I could feel the metal with every tiny shift of his hips — a constant, delicious pressure that made my walls flutter around him.

He braced himself over me on his forearms, careful not to put too much weight on his recently healed hands, and began to move.

The first slow thrust dragged the piercing along my inner walls in a way that made my back arch off the bed. The second was deeper. By the third I was already moaning, fingers clutching at the sheets.

“Eklavya—ah—”

“I know,” he said against my ear, the words dark and satisfied. “It’s different, isn’t it? That’s why I got it. So you’d feel me even more.” He rolled his hips in a deliberate, grinding stroke that pressed the metal against that perfect spot inside me. “You’re going to take every thrust, every second of this collection. No rushing. No mercy.”

My head tipped back against the pillows as he set a deep, steady rhythm. The wet sound of him moving inside me filled the quiet suite, mixed with my soft, helpless moans and the occasional creak of the spreader bar whenever my legs tried to close on instinct.

He kissed the side of my neck, then spoke against my skin.

“Still think your kinky husband is too much, baby?”

I could only shake my head, too far gone to form words, completely open and trembling beneath the man who was collecting every last bit of the debt I owed him.

The deeper he thrust, the louder I became.

Soft moans turned into broken cries, then into full, helpless screams that echoed off the walls of the master suite. Every time the thick piercing dragged against that perfect spot inside me, a high, desperate sound tore from my throat. The forced spread of my legs left me completely open for him — no way to close, no way to lessen the intensity.

And it only spurred him on.

Eklavya’s rhythm turned relentless. His hips snapped forward with dangerous precision, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room. The metal inside me became a constant, overwhelming presence, stroking places I didn’t even know could feel this much.

“That’s it,” he growled against my ear, voice dark and rough with hunger. “Scream for me. Let the whole fucking floor hear who you belong to.”

Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes, sliding into my hair as the pleasure turned almost unbearable. My hands clutched at his back, nails digging into muscle while my body trembled violently beneath him.

“Eklavya—too much—ahh!”

“No such thing as too much when you’re taking my cock this well.” He drove into me even harder, the piercing hitting so deep I saw stars. “Look at you. Crying on my dick like a perfect little wife. This is what happens when you try to take care of me all day instead of letting me take care of you.”

Another broken scream left me. The tears kept falling, not from pain but from pure overload. Every nerve felt raw, oversensitive, completely owned.

He kissed the wet path of tears on my cheek without slowing his punishing rhythm.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, the praise filthy and tender at the same time. “Taking every inch. Every thrust. Every bit of interest you owe me. Cry all you want, baby. I’m not stopping until you’ve paid in full.”

My vision blurred. The only things I could feel were the relentless drive of his hips, the hard press of the piercing, and the overwhelming truth that I was completely, beautifully at the mercy of the man who refused to let me hide from a single second of what he was giving me.

He lifted his head.

Dark stardust eyes locked onto mine for a brief second before dropping lower — straight to where our bodies were joined. His large hands suddenly clutched my waist, thumbs pressing into the soft skin just above my hips as he held me exactly where he wanted me.

Then he thrust deep and stayed there.

The thick length of him pushed so far inside that I felt the unmistakable pressure against my lower abdomen. My eyes widened. Looking down, I could see it — the faint but clear outline of him pressing up against the thin skin of my stomach, a visible bulge that shifted slightly when he rolled his hips.

A broken, disbelieving sound left my throat.

Eklavya’s gaze stayed fixed on that exact spot, dark and hungry. His fingers tightened on my waist, holding me still so he could watch the way his cock distorted the soft plane of my belly with every controlled grind.

“Look at that,” he murmured, voice low and rough with awe. “You’re taking all of me so deep I can see it. Right here.” One thumb brushed over the slight protrusion under my skin. “My cock is reshaping you from the inside, Pari.”

The words made my walls clench hard around him. The sensation of being so completely filled — of seeing the proof of it with my own eyes — sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me. Tears still clung to my lashes as I stared down at the place where his size claimed me so thoroughly that even my body couldn’t hide it.

He pulled back just enough for the bulge to disappear, then drove forward again, slow and deliberate, watching the outline reappear under my skin like he was memorizing the sight.

“You’re perfect,” he said, almost to himself. “So fucking perfect for me.”

The night had gone so deep that time no longer made sense.

By the fifth round my body had long since stopped belonging to me. Every muscle trembled with exhaustion and lingering pleasure. The spreader bar had been removed at some point — I barely remembered when — and now I was simply wrapped in his arms, completely spent, skin damp and sensitive against his.

“Mercy…” I whispered, the word barely audible.

Eklavya stilled immediately. His breathing was heavy against my neck, but the relentless intensity finally softened. He pressed a slow kiss to my temple, then another to my damp hair, gathering me closer until there was no space left between us.

I didn’t have the strength — or the courage — to say the words out loud.

But inside my mind they repeated without end.

I love you, Eklavya.

I love you so much.

I love you… I love you… I love you…

The quiet mantra followed me as my eyes fluttered shut. The last thing I felt was the steady beat of his heart against my cheek and the protective weight of his arm around my waist.

Then the deep, dreamless sleep of complete surrender finally took me — safe, claimed, and held in the only place that had ever felt like home.

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