Episode 53 — Fire Beneath Stone
The cell door groaned open, hinges shrieking like something alive. Damp stone walls swallowed the light of the single flickering bulb overhead, leaving more shadow than flame.
Raian lifted his head, sweat-drenched hair clinging to his forehead. Every breath was a knife, every movement an argument against pain. Yet when Malik stepped through the doorway, dark coat trailing dust and memory, Raian's eyes stayed cold. Alive.
"Raian," Malik murmured, voice as calm and polite as a dinner invitation. "How far you've fallen."
Chains rattled as Raian shifted, bruised ribs protesting. "Takes falling to see who stands above the ashes," he rasped.
Malik's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Still sharpening that tongue, I see." His gaze swept over Raian, pausing on torn shirt and blood-stained skin. "But steel dulls under fire. Even yours."
Raian's jaw locked. "If you came for begging, you wasted your walk."
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Malik stepped closer, boots echoing off stone. "Begging? No. I came to offer a choice." His hand dipped into his coat, pulling free a single sheet of scorched paper — the torn page of Dev's ledger. Words bled and smeared by blood, but the names were still visible. Names Raian had sworn would never surface.
Raian's pulse hammered, nausea twisting his stomach. Dev… even dead, your secrets burn.
"You trade what you know," Malik continued, voice smooth as silk over broken glass. "The rest of the ledger. The names hidden behind those initials. Do that…" His gaze lifted, empty as dusk. "And the doctor walks free. Vanishes. Never hunted again."
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For a heartbeat, breath tangled in Raian's throat. Aria. Alive. Free. The word yes scraped the back of his teeth — a heartbeat away from escape.
Then Malik's next words dropped, cold and final: "Or stay silent, and she dies slowly. A message to every traitor who ever loved too deeply."
The words slid under Raian's skin, colder than any blade. His breath came ragged, pain blooming behind his ribs, but his voice, when it came, was raw iron. "If you could kill her that easily," he rasped, "you wouldn't need me alive."
Malik's expression didn't change. "Love makes you see hope where there is none."
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The paper crackled as Malik tucked it back into his coat. "Think, Raian," he murmured. "The sun sets twice every day for a man with something left to lose." His gaze held Raian's, dark as wet stone. "When the second sun sets… decide."
The door swung shut behind him, leaving only dripping water and the taste of rust and fear.
Raian sagged against chains, sweat chilling on torn skin. Aria. What would you beg me to do? His vision blurred, but he saw her — scarf loose, hair damp from rain, eyes blazing even in fear. You'd ask me to live with myself.
And Raian understood: living without her was agony. But betraying the names? Betraying Dev's last silence? That would kill what little of him she still loved.
He swallowed, salt and blood burning his throat. Let the sun set twice. I'll die in the dark before I damn you, Aria.
---
Far south, Aria stepped off the worn wooden train, air heavy with river heat and the smell of wet earth. Bashir's directions had led her to this village — mud paths, clay houses, and a single shuttered tea shop that smelled faintly of cardamom and oil.
Inside, a man waited, bald head gleaming under a single bulb. Bashir had called him Chotu Bhai — an old loyalist from Raian's father's time. But the moment she stepped in, the air turned sharp.
"You're late," Chotu Bhai grunted, voice sandpaper-rough. "You bring anyone?"
"No," she whispered, voice cracking.
His eyes narrowed, flicking to the scarf still damp from her breath. "You sure?"
Aria swallowed. "Please… Bashir said you'd help. Malik's men are coming. Raian is—"
"Raian is the reason half of us lie in the river," Chotu Bhai cut in, voice a blade. "Bashir thinks old loyalty still buys faith. It doesn't."
---
A shadow moved at the door. Two men stepped in — sweat-slicked, knives tucked at their belts.
Aria's heart spasmed. "No… please—"
Chotu Bhai's lip curled. "Malik pays better than ghosts."
Fear surged up, hot and choking. I trusted him. Bashir trusted him. But her pulse settled into something harder, colder. Raian didn't stay alive by trusting anyone.
She stepped back, palms lifting as if in surrender — fingers brushing the rusted kettle on the low stove. The nearest man lunged.
Aria swung the kettle hard. Boiling water fanned across cloth and skin; steam hissed, a scream tore the air.
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Pain, panic, chaos. She shoved the second man aside, breath ragged, and ran — feet slipping on mud and ash, lungs burning. Behind, Chotu Bhai cursed, heavy boots thundering after her.
Aria's chest screamed with every breath, but she kept running. Raian's still fighting. So will I.
She reached the back alley, knees nearly buckling, hands slick with sweat and water. Behind, voices roared — orders barked, knives scraping mud walls.
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Somewhere, she heard Malik's voice in memory, dark and calm: Love makes even kings bleed.
Then let it.
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Night fell, wet and breathless. Aria hid beneath a half-collapsed awning, breath quivering, fingers trembling over the pulse that still thundered in her neck.
For now, she was alive. Hunted. Betrayed. But alive.
And as long as breath stayed in her chest, Raian wasn't fighting alone.
---
In Kolkata, Malik stood at his window, rain smearing the lights of the city into dying embers. "Find her," he murmured to the men gathered behind him. "Break every stone if you must. Alive, she breaks him. Dead, she buries him."
The men scattered, boots echoing through dark halls.
Malik's fingers brushed the scorched ledger page in his coat. The past burned, but power rose from ashes.
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Across rusted bars and rain-choked alleys, two hearts beat in stubborn defiance — bound by blood, tied by heart.
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Teaser for Episode 54:
Aria hides in the southern shadows, hunted from all sides. Raian bleeds in silence — but finds a single spark of betrayal among Malik's own men. And the first whisper of rebellion stirs in Kolkata's underworld.