Page 68 of The Redemption
“I owe my life to him,” Haider says, though there’s still no softness in his tone. “Everything I have is because of him. Keeping him safe isn’t just my job; it’s a promise I made to myself. And tonight, I failed because of you.”
I look at Siya now, who swallows, letting each of his words sink in. She doesn’t defend herself, doesn’t argue or justify. She just stands there and listens.
“You brought that threat here, Siya Vardhaan,” he says. “But whatever games you’ve been playing until now, they end here. Because from now on, I won’t letyougamble withhislife inside this estate. Not under my watch.”
With that, Haider steps back, his jaw tight, his anger still evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. Then he turns and walks out, shutting the door behind him.
A heavy silence settles between us. Siya finally looks up at me. Her gaze moves to my arm, to the blood, before returning to my face. There are a hundred things she could say, but she says none of them, and neither do I.
A moment later, she walks towards me, and only then do I notice the first-aid kit in her hands. Her fingers reach for the scarf tied tightly around my arm, now soaked dark with blood. I catch her wrist before she can touch it. She looks at me, not with defiance but with concern. Something I don’t often see directed at me.
The moment my grip on her wrist loosens, she carefully starts untying the scarf. The knot loosens, and the cloth falls away, causing fresh blood to seep out. Her jaw tightens as she examines the wound through the torn sleeve of my shirt. She then looks around, walks to the small pantry counter, and comes back with water and a clean cloth.
I don’t stop her, don’t move either. I just watch her. No one has ever done this for me. In my world, wounds are meant to be dealt with alone. Care like this was never a part of it. So, when she sits beside me, close enough for me to feel her warmth, and her trembling fingers move to the buttons of my shirt, my body reacts differently.
Siya doesn’t even ask and simply starts unbuttoning my shirt. My gaze locks onto her face. Her eyes remain lowered, fully focused on what she’s doing, but I still catch the slight tremor inher fingers. She’s rattled. Guilty. Shaken because that bullet had been meant for her, and it hit me instead.
Button after button, she slowly opens my shirt. And with every accidental brush of her fingers against my skin, my control slips another inch. This isn’t some random woman touching me. This is Siya. The same woman I’ve been trying not to think about since the day she walked into my life and turned it upside down without even trying.
For a moment, she pauses. Then she looks up at me, and our eyes meet. Her breathing is uneven now. Mine is worse. Because the problem is not her tending to my wound. The problem is the way my body reacts to her closeness.
My hands itch to grab her waist and pull her flush against me just to see if she’d still look this breathless afterwards.
F*ck. I shouldn’t be having such thoughts.
She finally eases the shirt off my shoulders, taking extra care not to hurt my injured arm. All the thoughts I’ve kept locked away regarding her surge to the surface all at once again.
I’ve been with women before, but never like this. Never enough to let my guard down, never enough to let them this close and undress me. Siya is the first. Sitting here without touching her back is unbearably more painful than the wound left by the bullet.
The pain should be drowning everything else out. Yet here I am, acutely aware of her in a way that feels dangerous, like a man who has just discovered what it truly means to want a woman and can no longer control the hunger that comes with it.
It’s unsettling how badly Iwanther right now.
My thoughts come to an abrupt halt as Siya swallows, her gaze fixed on my wound. Little does she know that she’s driven by guilt that was never hers to carry. Because when I choose to step in, when I decide to protect someone, I own every consequence that follows. No one else.
I keep my face blank, hoping my eyes aren’t giving away my inner thoughts. She dips the cloth into the water and starts cleaning the wound gently. I’m not used to gentle. But somehow coming from her, it feels strangely soothing, as though one touch from her and I’m already healing.
What is Siya doing to me?Because I’m not focused on the pain.I’m focused on her.I watch her as if nothing else exists in the room, as if nothing else that matters.
Am I even blinking? Breathing? I can’t tell anymore.
When she finally finishes cleaning the wound and dresses it more tightly than before, Siya exhales softly and speaks. “I’m sorry.”
She lifts her gaze and meets my eyes again.
“All this happened because of me. You’re right. I never should have trusted the Singhals. They have backstabbed the Vardhaans too many times in the past. I was a fool to think they would be any different now. But I was desperate to stop this marriage, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Her fingers tighten slightly around the cloth in her hand.
“I’m not usually this reckless. Being raised in the mafia, my dad taught me to think twice before taking such drastic steps.” She takes a pause before continuing. “But after Dad died, Samarjeet forced me into this alliance with the Reddys. I don’t want that life. I don’t want to be a bargaining chip, to be passed from one mafia clan to another for their own benefits. I’m not made for that.”
I read the frustration in her voice now. The helplessness too.
“Had Dad been alive, none of this would have happened. But he was gone, and I was left alone to tackle this problem all on my own. So, I ran from there. Came all the way to Mumbai and remained hidden for weeks until Samarjeet’s men found me at Josh club. The same nightwemet.”
I recall that night. Every bit of it.
“I was shocked to see you there, alive and helping me fight my own men. The Dark Prince who had been dead to the underworld for almost eighteen months was suddenly standing right in front of me, fighting my battle.” She shakes her head. “It was next to impossible. So, even after Samarjeet’s men took me back to Cape Town that night, I never stopped looking for you. Trying to get some clue, some answers as to how you managed the impossible. I couldn’t trust anyone else to help me with this. It took me nearly months, but eventually I found where you were living now. Here, at RK Estate. Not as Raghav Khurana but as Raghav Kundra.”
