Episode 62 — Where Fire Demands a Price
The mist had thinned, giving way to a pale Kolkata dawn. Beyond the boat, crumbling warehouses lined the riverbank, silent as grave markers. But inside, nothing was quiet: Aria's shallow breaths, Raian's heartbeat pounding like a war drum, and Saira's ragged curses as blood leaked between her fingers.
Raian sat with his back braced against a crate, Aria half-curled in his lap, her skin clammy under his touch. Every time her chest rose, a spark of hope burned in him; every time it faltered, fear clawed deeper.
"We can't keep her here," Saira rasped, voice strained by pain. "She needs a doctor. A real one."
Raian's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. "She is a doctor," he whispered hoarsely. "But she can't save herself."
---
The younger boy rowing threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. "Boss, where do we take her?"
Raian swallowed. The names spinning in his head were a ledger of risk and betrayal. Hospitals meant exposure. Safe houses meant knives in the dark. But there was one place — a choice he'd sworn never to make.
"Head for Salt Lane," he murmured, voice like broken stone. "The old mill."
Saira's gaze sharpened, even through pain. "That's Malik's territory, Raian."
"I know," he rasped. "But there's someone there who still owes me a debt."
"And if he betrays you?" she shot back.
"Then he kills me," Raian said flatly. "But Aria lives."
---
The words hung in the damp air, heavy as iron chains.
Aria stirred weakly, lashes fluttering. "Raian…" Her voice was a breath caught in cracked glass.
"I'm here," he murmured, leaning close so she could hear over the slap of water. "Don't speak. Save your strength."
"Hurts," she breathed, pain twisting her features.
"I know, love. I know," he whispered. His thumb brushed her cold cheek, a trembling caress that held back all the words he couldn't say.
---
As the mill came into sight — rusted metal bones against the river fog — Raian's chest tightened. Memories tangled in rust and betrayal: blood on concrete, whispered bargains, debts never truly paid.
The boat scraped the crumbling dock. Saira forced herself upright with a grunt of agony. "I'll watch the river," she rasped. "Go."
Raian nodded once, lifting Aria gently into his arms. Her blood stained his shirt anew, warmth fading as dawn rose.
The boys stayed behind, faces pale and eyes hollow. Raian stepped onto the dock, every breath grinding broken ribs like glass.
---
Inside the mill, silence ruled. Dust motes danced in pale shafts of light. Raian moved between rusted machinery, Aria weightless and heavy all at once.
"Wait here," came a voice — smooth, dry as old paper. From the shadows stepped a thin man in a rumpled kurta, gold ring glinting on one finger.
"Tariq," Raian rasped.
"You look worse than last time," Tariq murmured, gaze dropping to Aria. "Who is she?"
"My debt," Raian said hoarsely. "And my heart."
Tariq's brow twitched. "Then the price will be high."
---
Raian's jaw tightened. "Name it."
"I patch her up," Tariq said calmly. "But if Malik's men come, I won't bleed for you."
Raian hesitated, hatred and need warring in his eyes. Then he lowered his gaze. "Agreed."
Tariq gestured. "Lay her down."
---
Raian set Aria on a stained cot, heart hammering so loud he wondered if she could hear. Tariq moved with quick, precise hands, pressing on her wound until she gasped in pain.
"Stay awake, doctor," Tariq murmured, voice oddly gentle. "Your patient's watching."
Aria's lashes fluttered, pain glazing her hazel eyes. "Raian… don't…" she breathed.
"I'm here," he rasped, hand cupping her cold fingers. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her lips parted, a soundless plea. Then pain dragged her under, her head rolling limply to the side.
---
Tariq's hands worked fast: cloth, antiseptic, needle. Raian barely blinked, every muscle coiled to strike if the healer faltered.
"You love her," Tariq murmured, never looking up.
Raian's throat worked. "More than my own life," he rasped.
Tariq's gaze flickered, almost pitying. "Then pray my hands don't fail."
---
Minutes stretched like hours. Outside, the river lapped against the dock, hiding danger behind every ripple.
Saira staggered inside, sweat sheening her scarred face. "They're coming," she rasped. "One boat, maybe two."
Raian's pulse surged. "How long?"
"A few minutes, no more," she hissed, gripping a crate for balance.
Tariq's brow furrowed. "She's lost too much blood. If you run now, she dies."
Raian's breath trembled out. "Then we stay."
---
He dropped beside Aria, forehead pressed to her damp hair. "You hear me?" he whispered, voice cracking. "I'm not leaving you. Not even if death itself comes."
Outside, footsteps thudded on rusted docks. Shadows pooled in the doorway.
Raian's hand closed around Aria's. Fear and fire burned through him in equal measure.
Let them come.
If he had to bleed, he would.
But he would not leave her.
---
Teaser for Episode 63:
With Malik's men closing in, Raian must choose: fight, flee — or trust an old enemy's word, knowing betrayal could cost Aria her last breath.