Luca POV
I didn’t drive off until I saw her disappear through the gates.
Khushi turned once, laughing at something her friend Tanya said. The way her hair swung over her shoulder, the way her eyes sparkled—even under the yellow hostel lights—God, she didn’t know what she did to me.
I waited behind the wheel, silent, until all four of them stepped inside the building and the security guard closed the gate behind them. Only then did I pull the gear into drive and let the Range Rover ease forward into the night.
She was safe.
For now.
But safe didn’t mean forever. Not in my world. Not when men like Samar existed. Not when ghosts refused to die.
The drive to the safe house was quiet, but not inside me. My mind was spiraling—back to her.
Piccola.
She had called me out for lying. Bit my cheek like some kind of half-drunk lioness, her eyes blurry with alcohol but her words sharp with truth.
I couldn’t hide it anymore.
At night, in the club—when she curled into me like I was home, like she belonged there—she didn’t know how close she came to unleashing something in me I wasn’t ready to show.
I wanted her.
I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything that wasn’t made of power or vengeance.
But she was drunk. Barely aware of what she said, what she touched. And I—God—I had to become a monk just to hold back from kissing her, from pulling her onto my lap and—
I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
She didn’t deserve that. She deserved better. Gentler. Simpler.
Which I wasn’t.
Not now. Not ever.
The gates to the safe house opened as I approached, the security already knowing who it was by the headlights alone. I parked beside Stefano’s car and stepped out.
The air was different here. Thicker. Quieter.
Because underneath this house… was the basement.
Not a storage room. Not a cellar.
No—this was a space designed for reckoning.
Soundproof walls. Rusted chains mounted into concrete. Surgical lights like interrogative moons. A drain in the floor that had seen more blood than rain.
This was where Dragan Iyer took his last breath. Where he screamed truths into the hollow silence of death. And now—now Samar would do the same.
I stepped through the iron door.
The room where Samar was kept was the darkest of them all. No windows. Just one flickering bulb that buzzed like it had secrets of its own. Stefano stood at the door, his expressions grim. He sat tied to a chair, head hanging low, blood already dried at his temple. Dev and Mahmoud flanked him—one smoking, the other sharpening a blade on a cloth.
When he heard my footsteps, Samar looked up and grinned—teeth red, one missing.
“Took you long enough,” he rasped.
I said nothing.
“You know, I was expecting more,” he said, chuckling. “Two weeks. That’s how long it took your little army to find me. Two weeks. And you’re supposed to be a legend?”
I stood in front of him, calm. “You talk too much.”
He spat on the ground.
So Dev stepped forward and broke his nose. One clean strike. Samar screamed and thrashed, but the chains held.
“Where were you hiding?” I asked.
“Hell,” he hissed.
“Good. You’re going back there soon.”
What followed wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t noble.
We beat him.
Dev used fists. Mahmoud used the knife—clean, non-lethal cuts designed to unravel even the proudest man. One near the ribs. Another under the kneecap. Blood pooled slowly, quietly.
And still, Samar grinned.
“You’ll kill me,” he gasped. “And you still won’t stop them.”
“Who are they?” I asked. “Start talking.”
He nodded, eyes shining with something darker. “Dragan was just a soldier. The real power… is still watching.”
I straightened.
Samar continued, “They let you kill Dragan. They let you storm their outposts. They knew you’d come looking.”
“They?”
His smile twisted. “The ones who sit above Volkovs and Iyers. You think you run things, but you’re just… useful.”
I clenched my jaw. “Say their name.”
He chuckled. “No one says their name.”
I moved to the side table and picked up a scalpel—my least favorite, but sometimes… necessary.
“I will cut every lie out of your tongue.”
“You’ll cut the truth out with it,” he whispered.
I held the blade to his cheek. “Say. Their. Name.”
He hesitated. Then—
“Council of Ten.”
My hand froze.
“What?”
“They call themselves the Council of Ten,” he said. “Ten chairs. Ten faces. All shadows. All gods in suits. They run everything—governments, ports, trade routes, information pipelines. You think your empire is big, Volkov? Yours is a flea market compared to theirs.”
He was panting now, sweat soaking his shirt.
I stepped back, the name circling in my head.
Council of Ten.
A myth. Whispers. Conspiracy theories. A global syndicate so buried in money, blood, and politics that no one dared even confirm their existence.
Dragan had been working for them?
“Dragan was trying to impress them,” Samar said. “That’s why he came to India. They told him—if he could build an operation in your shadow… if he could trick Volkov himself… they’d let him in.”
My blood roared.
“He failed,” I said coldly.
Samar nodded, laughing bitterly. “He thought he’d earn a seat at their table if he fooled you. He wanted their respect. Instead, he got death.”
“And you?” I asked.
“I was the observer. They told me—watch him. Watch you. Report everything.”
He winced as blood slid down his chin.
“I didn’t even meet them. No one does. They send messages through cleaners, bankers, airline executives, funeral directors. You don’t even know you’re speaking to them until it’s too late.”
“How do I find them?”
“You don’t.”
I leaned closer. “Try again.”
His smile returned, crooked. “You find one, you find nine others. They work in shadows. Every time you take one down, another rises. That’s why no one ever wins.”
I stared at him, reading between the bruises. “What do they want?”
“Control. Slavery. Trafficking. Blackmail. Extortion. Children. Brides. Organs. Codes. They deal in everything human and inhuman. And now they know you’re here.”
“Why are they watching me?”
He looked up, and suddenly, the grin faded.
“They’re watching her.”
The silence cracked inside me.
“What did you say?”
Samar chuckled again, wheezing. “The girl. The little one. The one you keep staring at like she’s the sun.”
I stepped forward slowly, every bone in my body screaming.
“She has nothing to do with this,” I said, low and firm.
“Oh, but she does now,” he whispered. “You think they didn’t notice how you disappeared for two weeks? How you chased shadows in Delhi while some girl haunted your eyes?”
I didn’t blink.
“You’ve got a traitor,” he added suddenly.
That froze me.
Samar tilted his head, swollen eyes gleaming. “Someone in your camp told them. Fed those updates. About your searches. About your… distractions. That’s how they knew.”
I stared at him.
And he—he dared to smile.
“The great Luca Volkov. The shadow king. The ruthless god. Brought to his knees by a girl in a college scarf.”
My hands balled into fists.
“She’s not safe,” he said, voice hoarse now. “She never was. And soon, they’ll come for her.”
Then he laughed.
And I snapped.
Three shots. Point-blank. Center chest. One in the throat.
Samar’s head jerked back—and then fell forward like a puppet cut from strings.
Dev didn’t speak. Mahmoud didn’t flinch.
But I… I couldn’t breathe.
His blood seeped toward the drain, slow, thick, like the truth itself.
I turned and walked out.
My hands shook.
Not because I killed him.
But because of what he said.
I locked the basement behind me and went upstairs. I poured whiskey into a glass, then another.
Council of Ten.
I had heard that name once—when I was fifteen. My father had dismissed it with a sneer, calling it “a bedtime story for cowards.” But now…
If they were real—and if they had eyes on Khushi—
No. I wouldn’t allow it.
I pulled out my phone.
“Where is she now?” I asked Dev.
“She’s in her hostel room,” he confirmed. “Sleeping. Her friends checked on her. She’s fine.”
“She needs to be moved,” I said. “Somewhere safe.”
“You want to tell her?”
“No. Not yet.”
I paced the floor.
She trusted me. That night when she clung to me, bit my cheek, called me a liar… she trusted me enough to do that.
And now… now she was in danger because of me.
Because I let her become mine.
Because I didn’t stay away.
I leaned on the window, watching the Delhi lights blur through the glass.
The night passed in restless silence.
By morning, I hadn’t slept. The ache in my chest hadn’t dulled. I called Stefano.
“I need advice,” I said.
“Talk to me,” he replied, voice gruff.
“Her exams are done. She’ll start looking for jobs. Find out where she’s applied. Has she sent anything to us?”
Two hours later, he returned. His voice had humor in it—tinged with trouble.
“Luca… your girl is amazing. She’s applied everywhere in India. Every major design firm. But not ours.”
I gritted my teeth. “She’s angry. I didn’t tell her the truth. She thinks I’m just some businessman. Not… this.”
Stefano chuckled. “So what now?”
“Simple,” I said. “Make sure no other company accepts her resume. And send her an offer from us.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re going full possessive husband, eh?”
“Just do it,” I muttered.
By noon, he was back—laughing this time.
“She rejected our offer.”
I looked up from my glass.
“What?”
“She turned us down. Flat. Apparently doesn’t want to work with liars.”
I smiled grimly.
“She’s angry,” Stefano added. “But she’s also hurt. You need to fix this, Luca.”
“I will,” I said, rising. “Where is she?”
“Campus. Arrived half an hour ago. Probably in the design wing. Or walking around the campus.”
I nodded slowly, but didn’t rise yet.
My voice dropped. “What about the traitor?”
Stefano didn’t look surprised. “Figured you’d ask.”
“You already started looking?”
“Started the moment Samar opened his filthy mouth about someone leaking your whereabouts.” He pulled a folded sheet from his coat and placed it on the table. “Narrowed it down to three.”
I unfolded it.
Three names. Each one had served under me for at least three years. Trusted. Embedded in operations. Loyal—at least I thought so.
Stefano tapped the first name. “Naveen. Delhi-born. Logistics and transport. About two weeks ago, he was supposed to be running a cross-check on our northern cargo manifests. Said he was working night shifts at the Gurugram warehouse.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And?”
“Turns out the logs show his keycard active in the basement comms room at odd hours—between 1 and 3 a.m. Four times. No authorization. That’s the same week your safe house address nearly got hit. Someone tipped off an external contact.”
My jaw tensed.
Stefano moved to the second name. “Reyes. Comms and signal encryption. Brilliant guy. Quiet. He’s the one who restructured our alert system last month.”
I nodded. “What about him?”
“Fifteen days ago, he accessed our behavioral analysis logs. The psychological observation reports we keep for field agents—including yours. Including you. Only a few of us are allowed in there. His justification was vague—said he was testing the new firewall protocols.”
“He was analyzing me.”
“Yes. Specifically, the two weeks when you were... off.”
The silence was heavy. I didn’t deny it.
“And the third?”
“Abhimanyu. Recon and security. Worked under Dev briefly. Five missions this month, all clean. But—” Stefano slid a thumb drive toward me “—he was seen on an exterior CCTV cam three nights ago.”
“Where?”
“Outside Khushi’s hostel.”
I froze.
“He didn’t tell anyone. Wasn’t on duty. Claimed he was following up on a lead involving a different operation. But he had no backup, no gear, no tracker activated. Just... watching.”
My fingers tightened around the list.
Stefano leaned back and crossed his arms. “You see the pattern?”
“They were watching me,” I muttered. “Studying how I broke down. How I distanced myself. How I got reckless.”
“And they saw what triggered it.”
Stefano met my eyes squarely. “They saw her.”
There was a pause. Then he said, almost playfully, “You never thought I could be the traitor?”
I looked at him. “No.”
He raised a brow. “Not even once?”
A shadow of a smile tugged at my lips. “You’re annoying, Stefano. You talk too much. Drink all my best whiskey. Give me terrible advice. But betray me?” I shook my head. “You’ve had more chances to kill me than anyone else. If you wanted to, I’d be six feet under before I finished my espresso.”
He laughed once. “Fair.”
“I trust you,” I said simply.
He met my eyes. “That still means something?”
I nodded. “In my world, it means everything.”
He stood. “I’ll dig deeper. Discreetly. I’ll find which of these bastards sold you out.”
“I want evidence,” I said. “Cold. Hard. No assumptions.”
“You’ll have it.”
I glanced at the time, then toward the window where the sun had begun its downward stretch.
She was out there.
Somewhere on campus.
I ran a hand over my jaw, then grabbed my coat and keys.
Stefano watched me with a smirk. “Going to chase your sunshine?”
“No,” I muttered. “Going to shield her from the storm.”
And then I left to find her.
As I drove, I thought of caging her. Locking her away in the mansion. Keeping her safe—forever.
But I couldn’t.
She’d hate me for it. She’d cry. Fight. Break.
And I couldn’t bear to see her break.
So I needed another way. A smarter way.
I had to be near her.
Had to watch her. Shield her. Convince her.
Not just to work for me.
But to stay alive.
I parked outside the gates.
Time to find her.
Time to begin again.
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Hey guys hope you like this part💖
Thank you for reading the story till now. I know this part was a bit long than the other ones, I couldn't stop myself while writing and at end realized how long I have written. Still I hope you all enjoyed this part.
Do like for the chapters and comment your reviews in the comment section. Stay tuned to read and experience more of sweet and some intense moments between our leads😁😍
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