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Chapter 13 - 13.Fire Fights Back

Saanvi Khanna

I didn't sleep.

Not after the photo.

Not after the weight of it pressed itself into my chest like a stone I couldn't shake off. Not after the look in Aaryan's eyes when he saw it—the way his face hardened, not with rage, but with something worse. Fear. The kind of fear that doesn't belong to a man like him.

Because Aaryan Khanna doesn't flinch.

He doesn't bend. He doesn't break.

But last night, in the dim light of my apartment, stripped of his boardroom armor and CEO mask, he looked… human. The version of him no one else ever gets to see. Vulnerable. Scarred. Desperate. The kind of man who would set fire to the world if it meant keeping me safe.

And maybe that should have been enough to soothe me. Maybe I should've let him hold the weight alone like he's been doing all his life. But sleep never came. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that photo again, the shadow it carried, and the names whispered like poison in my mind.

By dawn, my decision was already made.

I won't be the woman who waits to be saved.

If love is a weapon, I've never held one so heavy. But I'll carry it anyway.

---

I show up at his office without calling.

No hesitation. No warning. My heels click against marble floors polished so perfectly I can see my own reflection staring back, a ghost version of me that looks braver than I feel.

The receptionist glances up, startled. "Ms. Khanna, Mr. Khanna is—"

"I know," I cut her off. "He's in a meeting."

She blinks, unsure whether to stop me, but my stride doesn't break. His assistant rises as I approach the double doors of his office.

"Ma'am, he's in with the legal team right now—"

"I'm aware," I say, hand already pushing past the barrier between us.

The heavy doors open, and the room silences instantly.

He's standing at the head of the long table, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, mid-sentence with his lawyers who sit with pens poised and papers scattered like weapons of their own. The second his eyes meet mine, the words on his tongue dissolve into nothing.

"Saanvi." His voice is low, sharp, a warning edged with disbelief. He rises to his full height, every inch the CEO again, except for the flicker in his eyes that betrays something else.

I don't falter. I toss the file onto the polished wood table. The sound is sharp, cutting the silence. Papers fan open—surveillance photos, names typed in clean fonts, numbers that reek of offshore accounts, dirt men would kill to keep buried.

Gasps ripple through the room.

His gaze snaps to the file, then back to me, narrowing like the edge of a blade.

"What did you do?"

I straighten, crossing my arms over my chest, my voice steady even as my pulse thunders in my ears.

"I dug."

His team sits frozen, wide-eyed, caught between curiosity and terror. They know they've just witnessed something they shouldn't.

I don't even look at them when I speak. "Out. All of you."

No one questions me. Not when my tone leaves no room for argument. Chairs scrape. Papers rustle. Within seconds, the room empties, the heavy doors shutting behind the last lawyer like the closing of a vault.

Now it's just us.

And the silence between us is heavier than any words.

He rounds the desk in long, controlled strides, tension radiating off him. His jaw clenches, his hands flex like he doesn't know whether to strangle me or hold on tighter. When he reaches me, his fingers close around my arms—not rough, but desperate.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?" His voice shakes, low and furious, the kind of fury born from fear.

I glare back. "I exposed the men threatening you. I gave us leverage."

His grip tightens, then loosens instantly like he's afraid of leaving marks. His chest rises and falls, breath ragged.

"No," he breathes, the word dragged from somewhere deep. "You made yourself a target."

The truth of it sinks into me, sharp and cold, but I don't let it show.

"You made me one the second you called me yours."

His hands drop from my arms like I've burned him. He paces, restless, his polished shoes hitting the carpet in uneven strides. One hand rakes through his hair, messing the perfect image he usually wears like armor.

I stand still, unflinching, watching him unravel in a way no board member, no enemy, no one else in this world has ever seen.

Then his voice, quiet, almost broken: "There's blood on those names."

I swallow, my throat dry, but my voice comes steady. "Then it's time we spill some of our own."

That stops him cold. His head turns slowly, his eyes locking onto mine, burning with something that makes my knees weak and my chest ache.

"You want to fight with me?" he asks, voice raw, as if he can't believe it.

I nod once. No hesitation. "Side by side."

The silence that follows stretches, thick and suffocating. He studies me like he's trying to find a crack, a weakness, a hint that I don't mean it. But I don't break. I can't.

And then—he laughs.

Not with humor. Not even with relief. But with disbelief, the kind of sound that trembles at the edge of madness.

"You're insane."

"Match made in hell then, right?"

Something shifts in him. The air between us sparks, heavy with danger and devotion all at once. He crosses the space between us in two strides, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me in until our bodies align. His forehead rests against mine, and for a second, the world outside ceases to exist.

His breath mingles with mine, his voice a vow whispered against my lips.

"No more secrets."

I close my eyes, my words brushing against his skin. "No more running."

And we both know—this is it.

The moment we stop pretending safety is an option. The moment we choose war, not separately, but together.

The difference now?

We're not fighting each other.

We're fighting as one.

And the world has no idea what's coming.

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