Chapter 20: The Silent General
The air in the courtyard was thick with the scent of ozone and redirected rage. Aman had scrambled toward his car, the tires screeching against the gravel as he fled the shadow of the man who looked ready to kill.
I turned to Advik, my chest heaving, my lips still tingling from a kiss that had felt like a mistake the moment it happened. "You promised! You said we were friends! You said you wouldn't—"
"I lied!" Advik roared, the glass in his hand finally shattering as he crushed it against the stone balustrade. Blood began to seep from his palm, but he didn't even flinch. The shattered glass from Advik's hand lay on the stone floor like diamonds in the moonlight. The air was still vibrating from his roar, but as I looked at him, the rage seemed to drain out, replaced by a cold, frighteningly calm resolve.
He didn't lecture me. He didn't mock Aman's quick exit. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.
"I found him," he said.
The words were short, clipped, and devoid of the jealousy that had just consumed him. He handed me the paper. It was a set of GPS coordinates and a timestamp from less than an hour ago.
"Ishaan?" I whispered, my heart leaping into my throat. "Is he... is he okay?"
"He's alive," Advik replied, his voice a flat, professional monotone. "He's being held in an old textile mill near the outskirts. The Singhals are getting desperate. They're planning to move him across the border by tomorrow afternoon."
I looked up at him, my eyes wide with a mix of hope and terror. "Advik, we have to—"
"I leave at dawn," he interrupted, his gaze shifting past me to the dark horizon. He didn't look at my lips anymore. He didn't look at me with the fire of a lover. He looked at me like a commander looking at a civilian he had a duty to protect.
"Go to sleep, Ananya. I've increased the guard around your wing. You'll have word by noon tomorrow."
"But Advik—"
He didn't wait for my thanks or my questions. He turned on his heel and walked toward the tactical room in the basement, his footsteps heavy and rhythmic. There was no "goodnight," no lingering touch. Just the cold, hard silence of a man preparing for war.
The Dawn Departure
I didn't sleep. I spent the night pacing my room, the photo of Ishaan clutched in my hand. Every time the floorboards creaked, I thought it was Advik coming to say something—anything—but the hallway remained silent.
At 5:00 AM, the low rumble of engines pulled me to my balcony.
Below, in the courtyard, three black SUVs were idling. Men in tactical gear were checking their weapons in the dim pre-dawn light. And there, standing by the lead vehicle, was Advik.
He wasn't wearing his suit. He was in all black—heavy boots, a tactical vest, and a look in his eyes that I had only seen the night he saved me from the club. He was a different person when he was hunting.
He looked up at my balcony. For a split second, our eyes locked. I wanted to scream for him to be careful. I wanted to tell him that despite everything, I didn't want him to get hurt.
But Advik just gave a single, curt nod. He didn't wave. He didn't smile. He climbed into the SUV, the door closing with a final, heavy thud.
The convoy roared to life and sped through the gates, disappearing into the morning mist. He had gone to fulfill the biggest promise of our deal, not as a friend, and not as a husband, but as a man who had nothing left to lose.
I stood on the balcony, the cold morning air biting at my skin, realizing that for the first time since I entered this mansion, I was truly alone. And the silence was louder than any explosion.