Page 51 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

Ten hours.

That’s how long it had taken Vikram to fly from London to Dehradun on his private jet. And that didn’t include the refuelling stop in Dubai. He had barely slept throughout the travel. He exhaled heavily as restlessness clung to him like a second skin. But now, he was finally home.

The jet door opened, and he stepped out, descending the narrow stairs with his sleeves rolled up, hair tousled, and laptop bag slung over one shoulder. The cool and crisp mountain air hit his face, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning inside him… the fire of missing her.

As he stepped onto the tarmac, his phone buzzed in his pocket with multiple notifications.

‘Emergency SOS from Mahika. GPS location shared.’

‘Stuck on an isolated road. GPS enabled. Need help.’

Vikram froze as he read the notification. The blood in his veins turned to ice. What the fuck?

He dialled her number, but the call went straight to an automated message that the number was out of network coverage. His jaw tightened.

Swearing under his breath, he opened the tracking app he had for all her devices. The car’s location showed that it hadn’t moved and was stuck in the same spot for far too long. The app had even sent him alerts twice, but he hadn’t checked his phone.

“Shit!” He didn’t pause to think. He spun towards his driver, who had just pulled up beside the jet in a sleek black BMW M8.

“I’m taking the car,” Vikram snapped, already yanking open the driver’s side door. “You take the luggage home.”

The driver blinked. “Sir, is everything—”

Vikram was already inside, slamming the door shut. “Take the luggage home,” Vikram barked through the glass.

He started the engine. The tires screeched as the BMW peeled out of the private airstrip like a cannonball.

He didn’t care that it was nearly midnight.

He didn’t care about winding roads and the jet lag.

All he could think about were the notifications he had just read.

That was Mahika’s car, and she was in danger.

He called Max. The call connected on the third ring.

“Sir—”

“Where the hell are you?” Vikram cut in, not giving him a second.

“I’m on leave, sir. I told Mahika ma’am, and she—”

“I told you to be there for her. Always. Especially when I’m not around! And you went on a fucking leave? She drove the car alone, and now she’s stuck somewhere, Max!”

“Sir, what… what happened?” Max stammered, panic creeping into his voice.

“What happened is that you screwed up. Big time.”

Vikram ended the call and slammed his foot on the accelerator like he was flying a damn plane.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Mahika stranded somewhere, alone in a car, in a situation bad enough to make her send an SOS alert from her phone.

He knew that his Mahika was no fragile damsel.

For her to send a message like that, it had to be something catastrophic.

And that scared the shit out of him. His entire body felt strung tight, every nerve buzzing with anxiety.

He kept glancing at the navigation screen, his eyes locked on the blinking blue dot that marked her car’s last location. It hadn’t moved.

What if she was hurt? What if she—

No. He slammed the thought down right then and there. He wasn’t going to let fear take control. Not when she needed him. Not while he was still breathing. Every second stretched like an eternity, and he promised himself that from now on, she would always be protected.

Yes. He would make sure she was safe. Always. Forever.

This was what it felt like falling in lo—

No. Fuck. No.

He pushed the thought aside before it could take shape and clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. His jaw was locked so tight it ached. Whatever was stirring inside him, he refused to give it a name. He shoved it down and focused on what mattered. Getting to her. Right now.

“Please be okay, Momo,” he muttered under his breath. “Please... just be fucking okay.”

The GPS chimed from the dashboard.

Your destination is at 400 metres... 200 metres...

And then his anger shot through the roof as the sight in front of him made his blood boil. Mahika’s car sat lifeless on the road, hazard lights blinking weakly like a dying pulse.

Surrounding the vehicle were six bulky men who were laughing and leering at her.

One of them was peeking into her window, while the other yanked hard at the door handle, trying to rip it open.

And the third one dragged a knife slowly across the glass like it was a game.

The others stood back, grinning, feeding off each other’s filth.

Something inside Vikram snapped, and he saw red.

It was the kind of anger that burned and detonated through every fibre of his being.

He slammed the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt, tires screaming, gravel exploding under the sudden stop.

The door flew open, and he was out before the car had even fully stopped.

He charged forward like he was a human weapon and a goddamn storm rolled into one.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” he roared, his voice cutting through the night.

One of the bastards turned, startled. “Who the hell—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Vikram’s fist connected with the man’s jaw with such force that he flew back and crashed into the gravel like a rag doll.

The second one lunged forward, swinging blindly, but Vikram caught him mid-motion and smashed him face-first onto the burning metal of Mahika’s bonnet.

The sickening crack of bone meeting the metal echoed in the dark.

“How dare you even look at my wife, you fucking animal! You get off on scaring women?” Vikram growled in a voice that was both icy and lethal.

His knee slammed into the man’s groin, knocking the air out of him, and then a brutal punch landed square on his ribs.

“You enjoyed scaring my wife, huh?” Vikram snarled, punching again. “You want to know what real fear feels like?”

Suddenly, the others grabbed Vikram, trying to punch him, but he roared again, shaking them off like a beast unleashed.

One of them managed a wild swing at Vikram’s face, but he ducked expertly.

He then turned and spotted a wooden log near the roadside.

In one smooth motion, he grabbed it and swung hard.

It cracked against the bastard’s head and landed on the road.

The man fell back, his eyes wide with terror.

“I am going to kill you all,” Vikram snarled. His voice was calm, cold, and burning with fury.

That was all it took. They ran for their lives, but Vikram wasn’t done.

He chased after them like a predator and pounced on the slowest one, tackling him into the dirt.

His body moved on pure instinct. He no longer heard anything.

He no longer thought. All he could see was Mahika in that car. Alone and scared.

That thought fuelled every blow that came after.

His knuckles were cracked, and his breathing was ragged and feral.

Another man tried to crawl away from him, his face smashed, whimpering like a wounded animal, but Vikram was in no mood to spare them.

He grabbed him by the collar and dragged him across the dirt like dead weight.

“Please. Let me go,” the man begged, his voice shaking, and his mouth filled with blood and spit.

Vikram didn’t listen. He slapped the man hard across the face.

“You picked the wrong car, and the wrong woman, asshole.” He stared the man down, his eyes blazing with fury.

“Fucking look at me. Remember this face. If you so much as breathe near her again, I’ll make sure you never take another breath. ”

He stepped closer, crouching near the other man on the ground, his voice razor sharp, “Dare to mess with my wife again and see what happens to your life.”

Then he drove his elbow into the man’s gut, followed by a crushing punch to his face.

Pain shot through Vikram’s own hand and wrist, but it only pushed him to hit harder.

His rage had turned into fuel, powering every blow.

He didn’t even notice the chaos around him until piercing sirens cut through the night.

Even then, he didn’t stop. Several police officers rushed forward and wrenched him back, prying his fist off the man’s collar. His knuckles were bloodied, and his eyes wild with fury.

“Step back!” one officer barked.

Vikram’s chest heaved with every uneven breath.

His blazer lay discarded on the ground, soaked and trampled.

His shirt was untucked, several buttons were ripped open, and his tie hung loosely around his neck.

Blood streaked his face and jaw. His hands were worse—knuckles split open, skin torn, the cuts fresh and raw.

He looked like a man who had walked through war.

“They attacked my wife,” he said through gritted teeth, nodding towards the car. “You’d better take every single one of them in tonight.”

The officer nodded sharply. “We will. And sir… this wasn’t random. We found this on one of them.” He held up a small black device. “A network jammer. That’s why her phone had no signal.”

Vikram went still. His jaw clenched as his eyes darkened.

“Investigate this. Thoroughly,” he said, each word razor-sharp. “I want names. And if someone put them up to this…” He stepped forward, dropping his voice to a low, dangerous whisper. “Find them before I do.”

“Yes, Mr. Khurana.”

But Vikram barely heard the officer. His gaze was locked on the car…

on her… on his wife. Mahika sat inside the car, still curled into the driver’s seat, as if bracing for impact.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself like a shield.

Tears streaked her face, and her lips were trembling.

Her wide, terrified eyes were fixed on something distant… somewhere he couldn’t reach.

His bloodied hands balled into fists as he took a slow, measured step forward.

The female officer knocked gently on the window. “Ma’am, you’re safe now. Please open the door.”

Mahika didn’t move.

“Ma’am,” the officer said again, her voice softer this time. “Your husband... he’s here. You can come out.”

And then, slowly, like she was waking from a nightmare, Mahika turned her head. Their eyes met, and the world seemed to stop. She opened the door with shaky hands. Her legs wobbled as they touched the ground, but then she looked straight into his eyes and ran towards him.

Vikram caught her mid-sob, her body crashing into his with a desperation that hit him straight in the gut. His arms locked around her, one hand gripping her waist, and the other cradling the back of her head as if he’d never let her go.

She buried her face in his chest, her body trembling, her voice breaking. “I thought… they were going to… I tried to call, Vicky… I couldn’t—”

“Shhh. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I’m here now.” His lips brushed the crown of her head, kissing her again and again as he whispered, “Stop crying, baby. I’ve got you.”

Her intense sobs tore through her, and his grip only grew tighter.

“I should’ve come sooner.” His voice was rough, each word sharp with guilt and anger.

She let go and crumpled against him. “I just kept thinking... what if they broke the glass or the door? What if—”

His voice was quieter than a whisper, but it carried more weight than a scream. “I would’ve killed them. Every single one of them.”

She looked up, her eyes searching his. His face was a mess of blood and bruises, a mask of exhaustion… but his eyes, despite everything, were focused intently on hers.

Her fingers clung to his torn shirt. “You’d do that for me?”

“I’d burn the world down for you,” he said simply, “and then build you a safer one.”

“You were in London… and still, you came. How?” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

He held her face as if she were his lifeline.

“I just... felt I had to be here. So, I flew in early. And when I landed…I ran every red light to get here.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” She broke down, tears welling in her eyes.

“I’ll always be here for you, Momo,” he promised, his voice ringing with sincerity. “You’re my baby dragon. You are off-limits.”

He leaned in and kissed her temple to reassure her that she was safe. He didn’t move away. “You’re safe now. I promise.”

She cried silently in his arms, shaking, but she didn’t let go. And neither did he. Without another word, he bent down and lifted her into his arms. She didn’t put up a fight. She clung to his neck as if it were the only place in the world she could trust.

He walked her to the car and opened the passenger door. Gently, he settled her into the seat, then grabbed the blazer from the back and wrapped it over her shoulders. Sliding into the driver’s side, he started the engine and pulled onto the road.

When his bruised, bloodied hand closed over hers and held on tight, a sudden realisation washed over him.

This thing between them felt like an entangled vow.

It was laced with unspoken feelings, buried history, and something dangerously close to fate.

A wordless commitment of what was to come.

He hadn’t said it out loud, but he knew he’d always keep this promise.

And for someone who always said too little, he’d just spoken more than words ever could.