CHAPTER 3 – BLOOD IN THE DAYLIGHT

Mumbai looked different from behind bulletproof glass.

Ananya sat stiffly in the back seat of the black sedan, her hands folded tightly in her lap as buildings slid past the tinted windows. The city she had known her whole life—crowded buses, roadside chai, noise and color—now felt distant, muted, like a memory viewed through water.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

She knew that the moment Meera had entered her room at noon with a calm but urgent expression.

“Get ready,” Meera had said. “You’re going out.”

Ananya had stared at her in disbelief. “Out where?”

“To a charity event,” Meera replied. “With Mr. Malhotra.”

That had been the first shock.

The second was the outfit laid out on her bed—not something extravagant, not a gown meant to show her off like a trophy. A simple navy-blue saree. Elegant. Understated. Serious.

A queen’s armor disguised as silk.

Now she was here, moving through the city inside a moving fortress of steel and shadows.

Across from her, Veer sat with his gaze fixed on a tablet, reading reports, face unreadable as ever. He wore a charcoal-black suit today, crisp, severe, ruthless in its simplicity. He didn’t look like a gangster.

He looked like the kind of man people trusted with billion-rupee deals.

Ananya studied him from the corner of her eye.

“You didn’t tell me we were going out,” she said.

He didn’t look up. “You didn’t ask.”

She scoffed. “Do I need to ask permission to breathe too?”

His lips twitched faintly. “Not yet.”

That single word—yet—made her stomach tighten.

“Why am I coming?” she asked.

“This is a public event,” he replied. “My wife is expected to be at my side.”

The word still felt strange.

“My wife.”

A role she had never auditioned for.

“And if I refuse?” she asked quietly.

Only then did he look up.

“You won’t,” he said.

Not as a threat.

As a certainty.

---

The venue was a grand five-star hotel near Marine Drive. Cameras flashed the moment the car pulled up. The press gathered like sharks sensing blood.

Ananya stiffened instinctively.

Veer stepped out first.

The effect was immediate.

Voices rose. Flashbulbs exploded. His name rippled through the crowd like electricity.

Then he turned back and held out his hand.

To her.

Ananya froze for a moment.

So many eyes.

So much judgment waiting to be born.

She placed her hand in his.

His grip was firm—not possessive, not gentle.

Steady.

As if daring the world to challenge the sight.

The whispers started instantly.

“Is that—?”

“Veer Malhotra’s wife?”

“When did he even marry?”

They walked forward together, entering the lion’s den of cameras and questions.

Ananya kept her chin lifted, heart hammering.

For the first time since her world had shattered, she was not hidden behind walls or confined to silent rooms.

She was being seen.

And that terrified her more than the dark ever had.

---

Inside the hall, polished marble floors gleamed under chandeliers. Politicians, business tycoons, socialites—faces that smiled too easily and hid too much.

Hands reached out to Veer constantly.

“Saw your company numbers this quarter, impressive.”

“We need to talk about your shipping routes.”

“Glad you could make it, Malhotra.”

Veer handled them all with lazy precision.

And Ananya… remained at his side.

Introduced only when necessary.

“This is my wife,” he would say.

Nothing more.

No details.

No softness.

Just the title.

Some women looked at her with open curiosity. Others with envy. A few with shock.

Ananya felt like she was walking through a dream made of glass—one wrong move and everything would shatter.

“You’re nervous,” Veer murmured quietly as he guided her toward a more secluded corner.

“I’m surrounded by people who smile like knives,” she whispered back. “What do you think?”

His gaze flicked across the room instinctively.

“Stay near me,” he said.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

And strangely… she didn’t resist it.

---

The problem announced itself as laughter.

Sharp.

Mocking.

Too loud to be accidental.

Ananya felt Veer tense beside her before she even saw who it came from.

A group of men stood near the bar.

At their center was a man in a white suit, hair slicked back, eyes full of amusement as they landed on Veer.

And then on her.

Something cold slid into her chest.

“Ah,” the man said loudly. “So the rumors were true. You finally married, cousin.”

Cousin.

Ananya’s breath caught.

Veer’s jaw tightened. “Arjun.”

Arjun Malhotra smiled wider. “Such a quiet wedding. I’m hurt I wasn’t invited.”

“You weren’t wanted,” Veer replied evenly.

Arjun’s gaze drifted back to Ananya.

“Beautiful choice,” he said, eyes roaming without shame. “Innocent. Soft. I didn’t take you for the domestic type.”

Veer stepped half a pace forward.

“That’s enough,” he said.

Arjun laughed. “Relax. I’m just congratulating you.”

Then his voice lowered.

“Or should I be congratulating her on surviving her first week with you?”

Ananya’s pulse spiked.

“Don’t,” Veer warned softly.

Arjun tilted his head, eyes glittering. “You know, people talk. They say your wife is your new weakness.”

An eerie silence formed around them.

Veer’s expression didn’t change.

But Ananya felt the shift—the tightening of air, the invisible line drawn.

“She’s not a weakness,” Veer said. “She’s a wall.”

Arjun raised a brow. “Walls fall.”

For a moment, Ananya truly believed someone was about to die in the middle of a charity hall.

She didn’t know how she found the courage to speak—but she did.

“I didn’t come here to be used as an insult between two men measuring their egos,” she said clearly.

Both of them looked at her.

Arjun’s smile widened with surprise.

“Well, well,” he murmured. “She bites.”

Veer’s gaze flicked to her sharply.

“You should go back to the table,” he said.

“I won’t be polite and pretend I don’t exist,” she replied.

Something dangerous—and something approving—flashed in his eyes.

Before he could respond, chaos erupted.

A scream pierced the hall.

Then another.

Then the glass doors burst inward.

Men in masks stormed in, weapons raised.

Gunfire exploded.

People screamed.

Panic shattered the room in seconds.

Veer grabbed Ananya instantly, pulling her into his chest as bullets cracked into marble and glass.

He moved with terrifying precision—dragging her behind a stone pillar as his guards rushed in from all sides.

“Don’t move,” he ordered sharply, one arm wrapped protectively around her head.

She shook violently, unable to breathe through the terror.

Screams echoed. Someone fell near the bar. Blood spread across white marble like spilled paint.

“Arjun—” one of the gunmen shouted.

And then—

Silence.

The attackers were neutralized as fast as they had entered.

Bodies lay sprawled.

Blood. Broken glass. Smoke.

Veer tightened his grip on Ananya when he realized she was shaking uncontrollably.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly.

She did.

“Breathe,” he said. “In. Out.”

She tried.

Her body obeyed him before her mind could.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

Security flooded in.

And somewhere in the wreckage of the removed attackers—

Arjun Malhotra was gone.

---

Later, in the safety of the car, Ananya’s hands were still trembling.

“So,” she whispered, staring at the blood on her fingertips that wasn’t hers. “This is your world.”

Veer didn’t answer immediately.

“Yes,” he said finally. “And now… it’s yours too.”

She swallowed hard.

“You saved me,” she said.

He looked at her then.

Truly looked.

“You were never in danger,” he said quietly.

She laughed weakly. “I almost got shot.”

“No,” he corrected. “They weren’t aiming at you.”

A chill went through her.

“They came for Arjun,” she realized.

Veer’s eyes darkened.

“Yes.”

“And I was just… collateral?”

The silence that followed was answer enough.

For the first time since she had entered his life, Ananya understood the full weight of what being Veer Malhotra’s wife truly meant.

Bulletproof glass.

Invisible enemies.

Blood before dessert.

And love that could get you killed before it ever had a chance to grow.

---

That night, Ananya stood by her bedroom window, staring at the city lights.

Now she knew.

This was not a story of romance.

This was the story of survival.

And somewhere down the corridor, Veer stood in his study, replaying the way she had stood her ground in front of Arjun… the way she had spoken without fear… the way she had trusted him when the gunfire began.

For the first time, the Devil King felt something dangerous settle into his chest.

Not desire.

Not possession.

Something far more lethal.

Concern.

---

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