Episode------- 29
Rain clung to Kolkata's waking streets, steam rising from alleys where darkness had only just retreated.
Inside an old riverside warehouse — half fortress, half prison — Aria woke to the rustle of silk sheets and the scent of blood and smoke.
Raian sat by the window, grey eyes staring into the dawn. The thin bandage over his ribs was fresh, but blood had already seeped through, a spreading bloom of crimson.
"You're still bleeding," she whispered, voice rough from sleep.
He turned, gaze catching hers — unreadable, cold, and yet… something softer buried beneath. "I've survived worse."
---
Aria sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around her. The memory of last night burned through her chest: the fight, the gun sliding across the floor, the way she had chosen to stay.
"You should be resting," she murmured, swallowing against the fear that still clawed at her.
"So should you," he countered, voice low, roughened by exhaustion and pain.
Lightning still flickered far off, illuminating the tattoos snaking up his arm — marks of violence and loyalty to something darker than she dared name.
"You keep watching me like I'm going to disappear," Raian said, almost amused.
"I don't know what you'll do," Aria confessed. "Or what you'll ask me to do next."
---
He rose, a slight wince betraying pain. "Come with me," he ordered.
"Where?" she asked, heart lurching.
"To see what you saved," he rasped. "And what it costs."
---
They stepped into a deeper part of the warehouse — a makeshift command room where maps sprawled across tables and men with cold eyes whispered in low voices.
Bloodstained crates stood stacked against cracked walls. Phones buzzed, voices hissed threats Aria barely understood.
Raian stopped beside a table where a young man — barely twenty — lay pale and still, a tourniquet cinched around his thigh. Blood soaked the floor beneath.
"Help him," Raian ordered.
Aria hesitated. "I'm not trained for battlefield wounds. He needs a hospital."
Raian's gaze turned steel. "We have no time."
---
Her pulse roared in her ears, but Aria knelt, hands trembling as she pressed cloth to the boy's wound. He whimpered, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Stay with me," she murmured, voice cracking. "Breathe. Just breathe."
She worked by instinct, knotting a tighter bandage, whispering reassurances the way she had in crowded hospital halls.
When it was done, the bleeding slowed. The boy's breathing steadied, faint but steady.
Raian watched in silence, something unreadable tightening the line of his jaw.
"You saved him too," he murmured, voice lower.
Aria lifted her gaze. "You think I won't do the same for you?"
His eyes softened — only for a heartbeat — then hardened again. "That's the danger, Aria. One day, saving me might mean destroying yourself."
---
Outside, engines rumbled in the dawn. Raian turned sharply, pain making his breath catch.
"They're coming," he rasped.
"Who?" Aria whispered, fear twisting her stomach.
"People who once called me brother," he murmured. "Now they want my head."
---
They moved to a hidden corridor. Aria's hands brushed his sleeve, felt him flinch at the contact.
"You trust me to follow you," she whispered.
"I don't," he rasped. "But I'd rather you walk beside me than be used against me."
His words stung — harsh truth wrapped in thin protection.
---
Across the city, in a crumbling underpass, Ayan and Lina moved through shadows, breath ragged, steps slow.
Lina kept an arm around Ayan's waist; blood still seeped from his side, staining her hands.
"We can't keep running," she whispered, voice raw.
Ayan's gaze darkened. "We have to warn Raian."
"Why would he help us?" Lina asked, voice cracking.
"Because I know secrets that can burn him too," Ayan rasped, guilt lacing every word.
"And if he kills you to keep them buried?" she asked.
"Then I die," Ayan murmured. "But at least you'll live."
---
Back in the warehouse, Raian and Aria reached a sealed door — rusted steel thick as betrayal.
Raian stopped, hand braced against the cold metal. His breath rasped, pain lacing every movement.
"Raian…" Aria whispered, voice softer now. "What do you want from me? Truly."
His eyes met hers — storm-grey and haunted. "I want you to see me," he murmured. "All of me. And still stay."
She swallowed, heart hammering. "And if I can't?"
"Then you'll go," he rasped. "But if you do… don't come back. I can't bear saving something that will choose to leave."
---
The door groaned open. Beyond lay an old opium hall, repurposed into a hidden arsenal. Shadows curled around crates stamped with foreign names, metal glinting under low light.
Aria's breath caught at the cold efficiency of it — violence made ready, waiting only for Raian's word.
"You built this," she whispered, voice shaking.
"No," he murmured, gaze distant. "I inherited it. But I keep it alive."
"And why show me?" she asked.
"Because you saved my life," he said, voice cracking. "And that life is made of blood, steel, and ghosts. You deserve to know what you've kept breathing."
---
Their eyes met — innocence and sin, healer and killer. The air between them felt fragile, sharp.
"I'm afraid," she whispered, tears burning behind her lashes.
"Good," Raian rasped, stepping closer. "Fear keeps you alive. And it keeps me human."
---
In the silence, Aria lifted a trembling hand to his bruised cheek. "And if I stay?" she whispered.
"Then your light becomes my curse," he murmured, voice raw. "And my salvation."
---
Beyond broken walls, thunder rolled — not from the sky, but engines drawing near.
"Prepare the men," Raian ordered, voice hardening.
"And me?" Aria asked, fear and defiance battling in her chest.
"Stay close," he rasped, storm-grey gaze locking onto hers. "And remember, you chose this."
---
Across the city, in a ruined alley, Ayan pressed a trembling hand against bleeding ribs, breath ragged.
"We have to reach him," he gasped. "Before the others do."
"And then what?" Lina asked, voice breaking.
"Then I give him what he wants most," Ayan rasped, eyes dark. "The truth he fears."
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Teaser for Episode 30:
A meeting in blood and secrets: Raian faces Ayan again, and Aria must decide whether to see the killer before her — or the man fighting to keep her alive.