The late-afternoon sun filtered through stained-glass windows, throwing blood-red light across polished marble floors. Harshita Mehra adjusted the strap of her bag, keeping her head low as she stepped into the grand halls of Blackthorn Academy — a place that smelled like old money and secrets.
New name. New life. New rules.
She had left behind the chaos of her family’s mafia empire in Delhi — trading bloodstained privilege for invisibility. No more bodyguards, no arranged marriage, no expectations. Just books, quiet, and a future that didn’t have her hands dipped in someone else’s war.
Or so she thought.
“Watch it,” a sharp voice cut through the hallway as her shoulder brushed against someone. Her books scattered, and her heart stopped.
The first thing she noticed was the scent — expensive cologne and danger.
The second was his eyes.
Veer Rathore.
He was every warning she’d ever heard wrapped in a tailored uniform and a cold smile. Jet-black hair, sharp jaw, and the kind of gaze that could cut steel. The hallway went silent. People moved out of his way like shadows fleeing from light.
He crouched, picking up a book — "Crime and Punishment."
A slow, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “How fitting.”
Harshita didn’t reply. Didn’t blink.
She reached out for the book, their fingers brushing. The spark that jolted through her wasn’t warm. It was fire meeting gasoline.
“New girl,” he murmured, his voice rich and low. “You hiding something, or just playing dress-up in a school full of wolves?”
She snatched the book from him, standing tall. “I don’t play with wolves. I bury them.”
For a second, something flickered in Veer’s eyes. Surprise? Interest? Possession?
Then he stepped closer — invading her space like he owned it.
“No one comes to Blackthorn clean, Harshita. Especially not girls with haunted eyes and mafia tattoos hidden beneath their sleeves.”
Her blood turned cold.
How did he know?
He leaned in, whispering just enough for only her to hear:
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
Then he walked away.
Just like that.
Like a storm passing, leaving everything unsettled.
Harshita stood frozen. Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear… but from something worse.
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