NOTE : Once you finish the chapter, please make sure to read the important note below! 😊📖✨
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AAROHI'S POV:-
It's 3 AM. The quiet of the night surrounds me as I sit in my room, trying to focus on the book in my hands. But my mind refuses to rest. Insomnia has been my unwanted companion for years now, lurking in the shadows of my restless nights.
My eyes shift to my phone, where a notification blinks at me, urgent and sharp.
"Mam, we got the information about the girls who were missing for one month. There are a total of 50 girls in a truck. This truck is heading to the airport to take them out of the country. We are waiting for your next move."
The message hits me like a jolt of electricity. The situation is dire, and every second counts. Without wasting a moment, I tap out a reply:"I'm coming."
I don't have to think twice. I know what needs to be done.
I get up, quickly changing into my gear, the black leather jacket fitting like a second skin, the cold, calculated look in my eyes reflecting my mood. There's no room for hesitation. My mind sharpens, the focus of a queen who will do whatever it takes to protect what's hers.
I step into the hidden corridor, my feet moving swiftly toward the private lift. The lift is a small, sleek thing, a quiet monster that descends beneath the earth to my secret basement. As the doors close, I lean against the cold metal, my thoughts already on the mission ahead. The hum of the engine vibrates through the floor as I make my way to my bike.
A custom-built Ducati Panigale V4. Its sleek design and growl of the engine match the fire in my veins. The bike roars to life, and with a twist of the throttle, I'm speeding through the night, the wind against my face, my thoughts solely on the task at hand.
As I near the rendezvous point, I see Grave, my trusted right-hand man, along with several of my loyal soldiers. They're standing near a nondescript black SUV, waiting for me. No one speaks as I park my bike and remove my helmet. The air is thick with tension.
Without a word, Grave hands me the details—just a glimpse of the map, and I know where we're going.
"They've just left the city outskirts," he says quietly. "We can't afford to waste time."
We get moving quickly, my team in tow, and we start following the truck from a safe distance. It's tense, quiet, except for the hum of the vehicles and the occasional crackle of the radio.
The truck speeds down the desolate highway, its destination clear. The people inside—innocent girls, each with their own story—are unaware of the danger closing in on them. But they won't be for long.
We pull up behind the truck, keeping a low profile. Grave signals for a stop. The truck comes to a halt, unaware of our presence.
I glance at my men. "Get ready," I whisper. "We move in five."
We charge.
I'm the first one to make the move, my boots pounding against the ground as I sprint toward the truck. The doors burst open just as I reach it, and a group of men step out, weapons drawn. They look surprised, not expecting anyone to stand in their way.
But they won't have time to blink.
I launch into action. My first target is a bulky man with a gun in his hand. I don't wait. My fist connects with his jaw, and he drops like a ragdoll. Another comes at me with a knife, but I block it with a swift turn, then send my knee crashing into his gut. The impact sends him flying backward, groaning in pain.
I don't stop. My body moves like a machine, every punch, every kick, calculated and precise.
One by one, they fall. My mind stays clear—focused on the girls and the mission.
A punch connects with my ribs. I grunt, but I'm not fazed. I whirl around, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting until I hear a satisfying crack. He stumbles backward, clutching his arm, and I don't hesitate to finish him off with a well-placed kick to his chest. He crumples to the ground, unconscious.
I scan the remaining men—there are two left. I smile. They made the mistake of underestimating me.
The first one charges, a shotgun in hand, but before he can fire, I roll to the side, coming up with a swift punch to his throat. He gasps, dropping the gun, and I take the opportunity to take him down with a quick jab to the temple.
The last one looks at me, fear in his eyes, as I close the distance. He backs up, holding up his hands in surrender.
But I'm not in the mood for mercy.
With a final move, I knock him out with a punch to the jaw.
The battle is over. My men quickly secure the area, making sure the remaining threat is neutralized.
I approach the back of the truck, my eyes scanning for the girls. They're huddled together, terrified, but alive.
"Get them out of here," I order my men. "Take them somewhere safe."
As the girls are escorted away, I walk toward Grave. He gives me a nod of approval, but his eyes are filled with concern.
"You always go too hard," he mutters.
I just look at him. "If I didn't, people would think I was weak."
The sun had just begun to rise when I got the news. I was about to head back to my office when one of my men rushed up to me, his face grave with urgency.
"Mam, these are only 35 girls."
I froze for a moment, my heart pounding. This wasn't what we were promised. I exchanged a quick glance with Grave, who stood silently, calculating the next move. Without a word, I walked over to the man lying unconscious on the ground, my boots clicking sharply against the gravel as I approached him.
I loaded my gun and aimed it directly at his head. He flinched, eyes wide in terror.
"Where are the other girls?"
I demanded, my voice cold, each syllable dripping with menace. "If you don't tell me, you know exactly what can happen to you."
The man, visibly shaken, stammered. He knew the kind of woman I was. A woman who didn't hesitate.
"They're at the base camp with the boss,"
he confessed quickly, his voice trembling.
I nodded curtly, signaling to Grave. He understood, and without a moment's hesitation, we were on our way. I didn't waste time—this needed to end
.
.
.
Three hours later, we reached the base camp, a secluded farmhouse hidden deep in the woods. As we neared, I saw armed men patrolling the area, their guns a stark reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows.
I didn't flinch. I wasn't the type to back down.
I mounted my Ducati, revving the engine before parking it a safe distance away. We had to be strategic, quick, and stealthy.
I signaled to my men to wait and approached the farmhouse alone. My training kicked in as I found an unguarded section of the wall. My body moved fluidly, silently, as I scaled it with ease, landing lightly on the other side.
Once inside, I crept through the dark shadows, my eyes scanning for any sign of the girls. I could hear muffled voices, and then I saw them—huddled together in a dimly lit room. The sickening smell of sweat and fear hung in the air. They were planning to ship the girls out of the country.
I didn't wait for the signal. I moved in fast, taking control of the situation.
I gave a subtle hand motion to my men to follow me inside, their presence hidden in the shadows. We moved like ghosts through the building, every step calculated, every sound muffled.
I found the man who was in charge—standing by a desk, talking with a few of his subordinates. I could hear his smug voice, but I was done with waiting. I crept silently behind him, my gun pressed to the back of his head.
"I hope you're prepared to meet your end," I whispered coldly.
The room burst into chaos as my men stormed in, guns drawn, taking down the remaining henchmen with swift precision.
I signaled to one of my men to take the girls to safety. As he ushered them out, I stayed behind, focused on the boss. But just as I thought I had him under control, I felt a sharp pressure at my neck.
A man emerged from the shadows, his knife glinting in the dim light. Before I could react, he slashed at my neck, a line of blood pouring from the wound.
The pain was instant, but it only fueled the fire inside me. I grit my teeth, refusing to show weakness. My hand shot out, gripping his wrist before he could move again.
Boom!
I kicked him in the groin with enough force to send him stumbling backward. His face contorted in pain, but I didn't give him a second to recover. I twisted his wrist sharply, hearing a satisfying crack as the knife fell to the floor.
In a heartbeat, I spun around and drove my elbow into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
stood over him, my breath steady despite the blood dripping from my neck. The cut wasn't deep, but it would hurt like hell in the morning.
I turned back to the boss, who was now on his knees, sweat beading on his forehead. He knew he was done.
"You're not leaving here alive," I said, my voice low, almost amused at his futile attempts to beg for mercy.
He didn't even have the chance to speak before I pressed the barrel of my gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.
My men quickly secured the remaining men, ensuring there were no survivors. The girls were safe, and they would soon be out of this nightmare.
I looked down at the bloodstained ground, my pulse still racing. It had been a close call, but it was over.
I walked back to the door where the girls were waiting,
I smiled softly at the girls as they huddled together, some still shaken, but all safe. My mind replayed the scenes of the night—swift, ruthless, and victorious. There was no room for hesitation in my world.
As I turned to leave, I noticed Grave's presence lingering behind me. His concerned gaze met mine, and I raised an eyebrow.
"Mam, your wound. You need treatment," he said, his tone gentle yet commanding.
I realized then that I had completely forgotten about the gash on my neck. The adrenaline had been so thick that I hadn't felt the pain until now. I nodded, signaling him to lead the way.
The sterile scent of the hospital hit me as we entered, the lights too bright for my liking. The doctor was efficient, cleaning and dressing the wound. It stung, but I didn't show it—no one would see me falter.
Midway through the treatment, my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at the screen to see a message from Ishika: 'Aaru, Damien Volkov is here. He's asking for Aaru.'
I frowned, my fingers typing quickly to reply. :- 'Tell him to wait. I'll be there.'
I didn't need anyone making unnecessary noise. Damien Volkov. The name alone sent a chill through my spine. The last time I'd dealt with him, the encounter had been... interesting.
After leaving the hospital, I made my way back to my penthouse, the familiar, luxurious space offering me a sense of peace amid the chaos. I couldn't afford to look weak—especially not with Damien Volkov in the picture. The clothes I was wearing were stained with blood, and I quickly discarded them, slipping into something simpler, a casual yet sharp outfit.
Once I was ready, I left for the café . My mind raced as I entered the bustling café, scanning the room. And there he was, sitting in a dark corner, his piercing dark orbs already locked onto mine as if he had been waiting for me.
Damien's voice broke the silence as I approached, his tone cool and mocking.
"Hello, Miss Aruna."................
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IMPORTANT: So, as you all now know from this chapter, Aarohi is Aaru! 😃 Let me clarify that the Obsession Series has two more books. In the second book, the female lead's name is "Aruna" , and the book is titled "Veins of Obsession" .📖✨
For now, it is available on wattpad, Inkitt and ScrollStack! 😊💖.