The abandoned warehouse smells of rust and gunpowder, rain slashing on the broken windows like knives.

Nick Darklore, the man the world feared, the leader of an empire that stretched from the docks of Sicily to the high-rises of Mumbai, was on his knees. His white shirt was ruined, soaked with the crimson rain that came from a jagged gash on his forehead. He didn't look like a king anymore. He looked like a man waiting for the blade to fall.

“So this is the mighty Nick Darklore....pathetic on his knees.” he sneered, eyes glinting with jealousy and satisfaction.

“Victor...you'll pay for this” Nick coughs blood, hands clenched, the concrete floor beneath him, knuckles white, trying to push off.

Maya Khan, who was held by two men gripping her arms enough to leave bruises.Her hair messy falling over her face, but her eyes burned with desperation.

“Mujhe jane do! Let me go to him.” she screamed. “Stop! Please don't do this is infront of her”

Sixteen-year-old Mahnoor groans as her eyes flicker open, the cold warehouse floor presses against her cheek The smell of blood and rain thick in the air. Her head throbs, her wrist raw from the ropes. She blinks, straightens slightly, and then—

She sees them.

Her father bleeding, her mother screaming in desperation. Two more men loom over her, their shadows swallowing her. One nudges her with his boot. “wake up, little kiddo. You don't wanna miss the show”

Both men laughs.

Her breath catches, her body jerks against the rope as Viktor steps into view, his polished shoes clicking against the concrete. The moment she realizes what's happening, she screams. "Mumma!"

The henchman yanks Maya's hair back, exposing the knife at her throat.

Viktor crouches beside Nick, speaking coldly. “Any last words, old friend?”

Nick's voice is a bloody cough. “You'll choke on my daughter's revenge. ”

Viktor laughs. “Look who's saying what”

Nick turns his face to the broken window, to his daughter, jaw clenched but eyes filled with love. “Close your eyes, Piccolina”

Mahnoor's heart stops.

“No.. No! Let me go to them” she cries, trying to get free from the ropes.

Maya sobs, threshing against the man holding her.

“Please” she begs, her voice breaking. Viktor's polished shoes step toward her mother, her emerald sari torn, her lips split, but she spits at his feet.

“You'll burn for this, you bastrd.” Maya snarled.

Viktor laughs, a cruel and amused sound. “You first.”

He raised the gun and—

BANG.

Mahnoor screamed, the sound tearing from her lungs until her throat felt raw as her mother crumples against the concrete floor.

Nick roars, surging again at his restraint. “Maya!”

But the henchmen knees him in the spine, forcing him down.

Viktor tsks, turning the gun on Nick.

“Look at her, old friend. The last thing you will see is your wife's corpse.”

Then Bang.

Silence.

Then Mahnoor's wail— guttural, shattered as she lunges against the ropes.

Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she stares at their bodies. Her mother's hand is still outstretched, as if reaching for her even in death. Her father's eyes are closed forever, frozen in fury, his fingers curled into fists.

Blood pools around them, absorbing into the cracks of the concrete, staining the fabric of her mother's sari a darker red. Her tears blur the vision and the scene, but something shifts inside her.

Every drop of blood, every bruise, every broken bone Viktor will pay for it all.

She imagines his face when she finds him, the way his smirk will vanish when she'll press a blade to his throat.

The way he'll beg just like her parents did, and then— she'll make sure he suffers longer.

The ropes fall away from her wrist. She doesn't wipe her tears, she lets them dry on the skin, a reminder.

This is where the girl dies.

And the viper rises.

Her last thought?

She'll burn it all. She'll rebuild herself from the shards. Sharper. Deadlier.

Across the oceans, warehouse cameras flickeres, their lenses capturing every second— the gunshots, the blood, Mahnoor's scrambled form.

In a dimly lit room, miles away, a teenage boy leans into the grainy footage, his mismatched eyes reflecting the screen's glow. A gloved hand adjusts the feed.

His fingers hover over the keyboard, freezing the frame on Mahnoor's face. A slow smile curls his lips.

“Patience, little queen.” he whispered into the dark.

Behind him a voice cracks through a radio. “Clean-up's done. The girl is safe.”

The boy doesn't answer. He just watches. And waits.

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Heyooo guys, this was the prologue. It was emotional and painful🤧 I know. But this is only the start. Tell me your thoughts about this in comments. I'd love to know.

I'm currently writing the first chapter, so I'll upload it tomorrow.

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Thank you for reading💋

Stay tuned for the next chapter.