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“Simran, what happened?” His eyes, dark with concern and barely contained rage, search my face.

“The... the gift,” I stammer, my words coming out in frightened gasps as I point towards my cabin door. “I opened... blood... there’s blood on it...” My fingers clutch at his shirt desperately. “It’s from him!”

Abhay is already moving, rushing into my cabin to check the package. I try to turn my head toward my cabin, but Vishnu’s hands on my face keep me focused on him.

“Veer,” I suddenly gasp, terror striking afresh. “Please, check on Veer!”

“Veer is safe,” Vishnu assures me. “He and Claire are under my guards’ supervision. Nothing will happen to them. Look at me, Simran. Focus on me.”

I cling to his shirt, my body shaking uncontrollably. The horrifying image of the bloodstained scarf keeps flashing in my mind. From the corner of my eye, I see Abhay emerging from my cabin, holding something that makes Vishnu’s body tense. But before I can turn to fully see what it is, Vishnu pulls me closer, forcing my attention back to his face.

“Don’t,” he says softly. “You don’t need to see it again. We’re going home,” he declares, his tone brooking no argument.

My fingers twist into his shirt, my body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. Without warning, he pulls me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. I seek refuge in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The gesture, both protective and possessive, makes me burrow deeper into his embrace.

Abhay follows us as we move toward the elevator, our security team forming a protective circle around us.

“Were the gifts checked before they were brought to her cabin?” Vishnu’s voice rumbles above my head, cold with barely contained rage.

“They were thoroughly screened for weapons and threats,” Abhay responds. “A scarf like this didn’t trigger any alerts. It appeared harmless. No weapons, no explosives...”

Vishnu’s arms tighten around me at Abhay’s words, and I flinch. I can feel the anger simmering inside him, though he’s doing his best to keep it under control for my sake.

The elevator doors slide open, and Vishnu steps in, keeping me firmly against his chest.

“Nothing is harmless when it comes to Simran,” Vishnu snaps. “I don’t care if it’s a scarf or a damn paperclip. From now on, every single item that goes near her needs to be checked thoroughly, and then again, if required. No exceptions.”

Abhay nods, his voice calm but firm. “Understood.”

“You’re safe now,” Vishnu murmurs, his voice softer, meant only for me. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The conviction in his words is almost enough to make me believe him, to drown out the images of that bloodstained scarf and the chilling message written on it. Almost. But I know this night is far from over—not for him, not for me. And knowing Vishnu, I can tell that his mind is already working, planning his next move to protect me.

CHAPTER 20

VISHNU

Simran sits beside me in the backseat of the Raptor as we sweep through the bustling city streets. Abhay is driving us back home while the black SUVs of our security team form a protective convoy behind us. My heart still races as I recall Simran’s state at the boutique. The image of her trembling form, when she told me about that blood-stained scarf, is seared into my mind. I should have been there sooner; I shouldn’t have slept in after seeing Dad off at the airport. Every second I was late feels like a moment I could have lost her.

Simran’s tremors haven’t completely subsided, though she’s visibly calmer now as she speaks on the phone with Claire, who reassures her that Veer is safe and sound, and is sleeping. I watch as her shoulders relax just a little, but her fingers still tremble as she ends the call. Her fear is palpable as the blood-stained scarf she received earlier continues to haunt her, just as it haunts me.

The moment she ends the call, I can’t hold back anymore. I pull her onto my lap, and for once, she doesn’t fight me. The fierce, independent woman I know melts into my arms, curling into me like a wounded bird seeking refuge. My hand moves in slow, steady strokes down her back, trying to calm her. She feels so small, so fragile in my arms—nothing like the strong-willed Simran I know. Just the thought of that masked man playing with her mind makes my blood boil.

“Faster,” I growl at Abhay, who’s already pushing the Raptor to its limits.

When we finally reach the apartment, I don’t let go of her. I can’t. She’s still shaking. I lift her effortlessly into my arms, ignoring her faint protests, and carry her straight to the bedroom, my grip tightening around her with each shudder that rocks her body. Claire’s shocked face greets us, her questions almost dying on her lips as she takes in Simran’s state.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Later,” I bark, not pausing to explain. “Run a warm bath for her. Now.”

Claire rushes to the bathroom, and I take Simran into the bedroom. I sit her down on the edge of the bed and crouch in front of her, my hands cupping her face.

“Simran,” I say softly, my voice betraying the anger and frustration boiling inside me. “I’m going to end this soon. I promise, this is the last time he’ll ever get this close to scare you. No more.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. Instead, her tear-filled eyes meet mine, betraying her fear and exhaustion. Claire returns quickly, nodding at me to indicate the bath is ready. I stand and pull Simran back to her feet, my fingers automatically reaching for the zipper of her dress. Her trembling still hasn’t stopped. I can feel her skin ice-cold against mine.

The dress starts to slide down her shoulders as I gently push the straps aside, but before it can fall further, her trembling hand moves to hold it in place against her chest. Just as I’m about to argue, to tell her that this isn’t the time for modesty, her eyes meet mine.