Semua Bab DEVIL’s GRIP: Bab 21 - Bab 30

Zayden’s breath hitched for a fraction of a second, something deep, unsettling, and almost magnetic rooting him to the spot.His sharp, blue-gray eyes traced every movement she made—the way her waist twisted effortlessly, the way her hips swayed subtly with each spin, the way her body moved with natural grace, as if she were made for this rhythm.She was fluid, uninhibited, lost in the music, unaware of how intoxicating she looked under the warm sunlight filtering through the Holi-drenched air.His gaze drifted lower, catching the way the fabric of her now multi-colored white Anarkali hugged her silhouette, flowing with her as she moved.The fabric clung just enough to highlight the gentle curve of her back, the soft dip of her waist, the way it flared as she twirled, revealing glimpses of her ankles, her swift, effortless footwork, dusted with color.The contrast of the bright pinks, yellows, and blues against her fair skin made her look like something out of a dream—untouchable, sur

Zayden stood frozen, his breath slightly uneven, his fingers clenching at his sides as he processed the warmth still lingering on his lips—Only to be hit with the cold splash of reality.A sharp chill ran down his spine, his white kurta drenched at the shoulder, the sting of the water balloon snapping him back into the real world.The kiss.The way her fingers had fisted his kurta.The way she had gasped against his lips, completely breathless.It was a dream—just a dream.His jaw tightened, his throat dry, his pulse still racing as if it had actually happened.No. It wasn’t real. But it will be.His fingers twitched at his sides, his wet kurta sticking to his skin, but he barely noticed. His mind was already set.He was going to make it real.Starting now.He pushed back his wet hair, his sharp gaze scanning the Holi-drenched crowd, searching for her.And then—he found her.There she was.Hema.And she wasn’t alone.Zayden’s muscles tensed as he saw Arvind standing beside her.Too c

The next morning, Arvind sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the confirmation email for his transfer.He was leaving for Bangalore in two days.And yet—he felt no relief.Instead, his chest ached with guilt.Not because he was leaving his family.But because he was leaving Hema.A soft knock on his door made him look up.“Hema,” he breathed.She smiled gently, stepping inside. “So, you’re really going.”He exhaled, rubbing his face. “I don’t have a choice.”“You do,” she said. “And you’re making the right one.”He looked at her, searching her face for something—anything—that told him she would miss him.She just smiled. Calm. Understanding.And for some reason, that hurt him more.“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “For leaving you alone.”Hema blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. “You’re not leaving me alone, Arvind. You’re going after something bigger. I’m proud of you.”His heart clenched painfully.He wanted her to tell him to stay.He wanted her to say she needed him.But she was

The Moment She RanThe moment Hema’s feet hit the pavement, she knew she had no choice but to run as fast as she could.Her heart pounded against her ribs, a wild, erratic beat that matched the rapid slaps of her sandals against the road.The city around her blurred. The dim streetlights, the parked rickshaws, the stray dogs rummaging through trash—all of it faded into the background as pure survival instincts took over.Behind her, the men shouted.“Catch her!”“Don’t let her get away!”Their voices sent an ice-cold shiver down her spine.She clutched her bag tighter against her chest, her fingers curled so tightly around the strap that her knuckles turned white.She could hear their footsteps pounding against the pavement, their heavy boots hitting hard against the ground.They were close. Too close.The Streets of Mumbai at NightMumbai was a city that never truly slept, but at this hour, the streets were quieter than usual.A few scattered pedestrians walked along the sidewalks, m

The cool night air carried the faint hum of streetlights flickering in the distance.A forgotten badminton court, secluded from the city, stood in eerie silence. The once lively place had been abandoned for years, with weeds creeping through the cracks of the pavement.Zayden walked in slowly, his black boots crunching against the gravel as he entered the dimly lit space.His right arm was bandaged, the cloth still fresh—the same one Hema’s grandmother had tied around his wound.The smell of damp cement and old wood mixed with something darker.Fear.A metal gate creaked behind him as three men knelt in the center of the court.Bloodied.Bound.Terrified.The ones who had dared to lay their hands on her.Zayden’s cold blue-gray eyes swept over them.The two at the front were already whimpering, their heads bowed, their hands tied behind their backs.The third man, the leader—the one with the now infamous bandaged face—glared at Zayden despite the fear trembling in his bones.“You thin