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He remains silent, but I can see the muscle ticking in his jaw. It’s oddly endearing to see this powerful man so thoroughly rattled. Despite my reservations about our forced marriage, despite my fears about losing my independence, I can’t deny the warm flutter in my stomach when I see him like this—protective, possessive, and completely oblivious to his own charm.

“You know,” I continue, unable to resist one final jab, “Peter asked me earlier if you always look so intense, or if your ‘sexy brooding look’ is reserved for special occasions only.”

Vishnu nearly chokes on his breath, and I burst into another fit of giggles. For just a moment, the weight of our complicated situation lifts, and I let myself enjoy this—whatever it is—between us. Even though I’m not ready to admit it out loud, even if the future terrifies me, there’s something undeniably right about sitting here beside him, teasing him and watching him squirm.

Suddenly, I sense a shift in the air. My heart nearly stops when I notice Vishnu’s eyes darting repeatedly to the rearview mirror, his jaw set in that all-too-familiar way that signals trouble. Following his gaze, I spot a white sedan trailing us at what seems like a calculated distance.

“Keep an eye on that white car behind my Raptor,” Vishnu speaks into his phone to one of the guards following us. “Don’t engage.”

After ending the call, he steers us off the main route onto a more secluded freeway. The moment he takes a sudden turn onto an isolated stretch of freeway, my stomach lurches with unease.

“Vishnu, what’s going on?”

“Let’s find out,” he responds grimly, pressing down on the accelerator. The Raptor surges forward, and I grip my seat tighter, watching the speedometer climb.

The white sedan follows suit, mirroring our every move, closing the distance between us quickly. It’s clear this isn’t a coincidence. My pulse races, each nerve on high alert as I realise this vehicle is following us. And that could only mean one thing—it could be him.

“It’s definitely him,” Vishnu mutters darkly, his voice cutting through the tension. “The masked ma—”

Before he can finish his sentence, a violent impact rocks our vehicle. The white sedan slams into us from behind, jolting us forward. The phone flies from Vishnu’s hand, and before I can catch my breath, the sedan rams us again, harder this time.

“Vishnu!” I scream, terror clawing at my throat. My fingers grip the door handle with more force than necessary as we lurch forward.

“Hold tight,” he commands, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I’m not letting him get away this time.”

The sedan now drives alongside us, and my blood runs cold as the passenger window rolls down just enough for us to see him—the man behind the chaos. That face—that horrifying white joker mask with its unnerving grin—stares back at us. With a mocking wave, he lifts his middle finger in a taunt.

The audacity of the guy infuriates Vishnu, whose response is immediate and violent. With a sharp turn, he slams the Raptor into the sedan, our car scraping against it with a shriek of metal. The impact reverberates through my bones. The sedan swerves, the masked man briefly losing control, but with a burst of speed, he pulls ahead.

The second car with Vishnu’s guards closes in, ramming into the white sedan from behind, trying to force it off the road. But the masked man’s car zooms forward, slipping from their hold.

My stomach tightens as we dodge the oncoming vehicles, our chase far exceeding the speed limit. The speedometer needle climbs past any permissible limit, but Vishnu is unbothered. Catching this monster has become our only priority. I catch glimpses of the passing cars, their wide-eyed passengers staring at us, but all I can think about is escaping this nightmare.

“Vishnu,” I gasp as we narrowly avoid clipping another car. The masked man is good—really good at evading us. Vishnu’s frustration mounts with each passing second.

And then, I see it. A massive truck slowly turns onto the freeway ahead of us. Time seems to slow as Vishnu yanks the wheel to avoid collision, but the white sedan appears out of nowhere, ramming violently into our side. The impact sends us careening toward the guardrail. I’m thrown sideways, pain tearing through my arm and knee as I hit the door. My vision blurs for a moment, and I feel the sting of a cut on my forehead.

Pain explodes through my body as something warm trickles down my forehead. My thigh burns where my dress has torn, and I can’t hold back the cry of pain that escapes my lips.

“Simran!” Vishnu’s voice cuts through the pain, his face taut with worry.

The Raptor screeches to a halt, and I hear the distant roar of the white sedan speeding off, our guards still in pursuit. Before I can gather my wits, Vishnu’s hands are on me, gentle yet urgent.

“You are bleeding,” he states, his voice hoarse with worry.

I wince, trying to steady my breath, as his fingers brush the gash on my thigh, the torn fabric revealing an angry red wound.

“I’m… I’m fine. Just a few scratches.”

“You are anything but fine,” he snaps before retrieving his phone from the floor where it has been ringing continuously.

“We’re fine,” he barks into it, throwing instructions to his guards. “Follow that sedan. Don’t lose him!”

The moment he ends the call, his attention is fully on me again. His strong hands cradle my face, his intense gaze locking onto mine. I watch, mesmerised, as he unwraps the scarf from my neck, his touch surprisingly tender. He uses it to bind the wound on my thigh, but as he tightens it, I let out another yelp of pain.

He immediately pulls me against his chest, his lips pressing against my forehead in a kiss that sends warmth spreading through my entire body.

Even through the haze of pain and adrenaline, I’m hyper-aware of his proximity, of the strength in his arms as he holds me, and of the rapid beating of his heart against my cheek. It’s terrifying how right it feels, how safe I feel in his embrace despite the ordeal we’ve just survived.