17. The Monster

A silent billionaire.

A woman trained to kill.

When power marries danger, love turns lethal.

The office was cold today.

Not just in temperature—but in tension.

I walked into the meeting hall, footsteps echoing against marble. Everyone was already there. Voices low. Faces tight. The air carried unease—problems already being dissected before I even took my seat.

I settled at the head of the table, palms pressing against the cold surface, eyes lifting to the reports flashing across the screen. The Rathor Group emblem glowed faintly above it all.

An empire built from scratch—now bleeding again like wounds it had suffered decades ago.

And once more time, we were here to heal it. To revive it. To make it stronger.

“Start,” I said.

Daksh straightened. “The blast occurred yesterday at 8 a.m.,” he said, breaking the silence. “At our car manufacturing factory—established four years ago in partnership with the German automobile tech company, ARIO.”

I didn’t look at him. My gaze stayed fixed on the screen.

Images flashed—twisted metal, shattered walls, flames frozen mid-explosion. Burned vehicles. Destroyed storage units.

“No deaths so far,” Daksh continued. “But eight workers are injured. Three critical.”

The room went still.

That one line—no deaths—was the only thing keeping this from turning into a catastrophe.

Sameer took over. “Severe damage. Production halted. Loss—hundreds of crores.”

“Media?”

“Everywhere,” Reyansh exhaled. “Front-page headlines. Breaking news. Social media is raging—mocking the Rathor Group. Accusations of negligence.”

“Heavy speculation online,” Nishant added, scrolling through his phone. “They’re saying we ignored safety protocols. That this was bound to happen.”

Negligence.

That wasn’t true.

I didn’t react—but the word settled bitterly.

Yes, I had built this empire on blood—but never the blood of innocents.

A month ago, our private seaport had exploded. Sabotage—still under investigation. Hundreds of crores gone in a single night. We still had two operational ports, but losing even one was a serious blow.

This wasn’t coincidence.

Two major hits in thirty days.

“Shares dropped,” Nishant added. “Investors are nervous.”

Of course they were.

Empires don’t fall from damage.

They fall when people start believing they will.

I leaned back slightly. “Medical?”

“Handled. Best facilities,” Kartik said.

“Compensation?”

Daksh nodded. “Double the statutory requirement. Immediate relief announced.”

“This wasn’t an accident,” I said.

Silence followed.

“Two incidents. Same pattern. Someone is testing us.”

“You think it’s coordinated?” Daksh asked.

“I know it is.”

I stood, walking slowly around the table before stopping in front of the screen.

“Someone wants to see how we bleed.”

“I believe that,” Kartik said.

“Kartik, schedule the meeting with our German partners this evening. At the warehouse.”

A brief silence followed.

Kartik frowned. “About Pardeep Mishra—I don’t think he fell.”

“Same,” Daksh added. “It was either murder… or he’s still alive.”

I didn’t respond.

Reyansh spoke next. “The autopsy was done at Vivek Chauhan’s hospital. We can’t trust it. The report says he was drunk, leaning against the railing… and fell.”

“That’s reason enough not to believe it,” I said with a faint smile. “We’ll investigate. And if he’s alive… I want him.”

I turned away.

“Daksh,” I said, “call Velvet Viper. I want her here by evening.”

The meeting ended there. Everyone left the room.

Then the room emptied.

Silence returned—heavier than before.

I sat back, rubbing my temples for a brief second.

Just one.

Losses could be recovered. Reputation could be rebuilt. But control—once questioned—became dangerous.

My phone buzzed again. Another article. Another accusation about how we didn’t value lives.

I ignored it.

The Rathor legacy began forty years ago. I expanded it into multiple sectors, into international markets. Foreign giants now negotiated with us. For twelve years, we operated solely under Rathor Infrastructure and Logistics.

Then came the fall.

We lost everything—but learned the truth.

I took over ten years ago as the new face of the Rathor Group. From that day, every moment of my life—celebrations, relationships, emotions—was sacrificed for this empire.

I cut myself off from my family. I stopped attending functions. I disappeared from photographs. I don’t remember the last time I laughed with my cousins, teased my sisters, played with my brother, or asked my mother how she was.

Not because I didn’t want to.

But because ten years passed… and I forgot how.

I remembered a time when we had no luxury—only a loud, happy family.

Power came with a curse.

At fourteen, I began working inside Rathor Infrastructure—not as an heir, but as a worker. At a small party in Rathor Logistics, I met Daksh Malhotra and Kartik Khurana for the first time.

We were the same age—fourteen, drowning in oversized suits, pretending to be important while secretly eyeing the dessert table. None of us knew what we were doing, but we acted serious enough to fool absolutely no one. Funny how that awkward first meeting turned into something that never really ended.

Our lives kept overlapping—same school, same university, same circle. Their parents worked in our logistics division—Kartik’s father was a manager, Daksh’s parents were in HR and management. Somewhere along the way, we stopped being just classmates and became something closer.

At eighteen, everything changed. Rathor began to fall—one incident after another, enough to harden anyone. My brothers stepped into the business and saw the world for what it truly was. It forced them to grow up faster than they should have. The boys who once avoided the company floors now stood beside me, holding everything together.

But I’m glad they still had something I didn’t. They showed up at family functions, celebrated festivals, met their friends on quiet evenings. They stayed connected to life. Unlike me—trapped in a silent penthouse, spending what little free time I had staring out of glass walls at a world I no longer belonged to.

And maybe that’s why I changed the most. I became something else—something sharper. That betrayal didn’t break me; it rebuilt me. It stripped away softness, carved out hesitation, and left behind something far more dangerous.

If anyone tries to take me down again, I will destroy them.

Piece by piece.

I am not the Ranbir Singh Rathor I was ten years ago.

I am the monster now.

And monsters don’t fall.

I made my way to the warehouse, driving through the city with the weight of the day pressing down on me—tension heavy on my shoulders.

But for a moment, my mind drifted—uninvited—to the penthouse.

There was something about Trishika that wouldn’t leave my head. Her softness. Her unpredictable moods. The way she could look fragile one second—tears falling like a child’s—and then answer back with sharp, effortless sarcasm the next. It felt familiar. Too familiar. Like I had seen something like this before… lived it before.

I don’t have space for people like her in my life again. People like her get hurt around men like me. I wanted her as far away from my reach—my gaze—as possible. So we could both live in peace. I had made that mistake once. I wasn’t going to repeat it.

That’s why I had been ruthless with her in the penthouse. Deliberately. To push her away.

But I wasn’t that far gone. Not the kind of man who would cross a line when a woman was already vulnerable—

When she was on her period.

I have sisters too.

Some lines don’t disappear.

So I hoped she liked the necklace.

I would never say it out loud—never say sorry—but the guilt sat there, quiet and heavy.

Because the things I said to her…

They came out of anger.

And I knew I shouldn’t have said them.

After receiving the news of the loss, only sex can relieve me a little.

That habit of mine—

a disgusting one—I tried to silence it by turning to Shanya.

Unfortunately, for just a second, I had thought she was a good girl but she was good and disciplined only on the bed.

Last night, I was almost in the mood to fuck her.

She had beautiful green eyes.

A body that drew attention without effort.

Soft thighs, pale as snow.

I wanted to explore every inch of her, convinced that even this suffering—she would enjoy.

The thought slipped away as the sharp blare of car horns and the rush of the road pulled me back to reality.

At a traffic signal—leaves fell on the windshield from nearby trees, horns blaring in restless impatience.

A car driving on the wrong side almost hit a woman. Most people would curse and move on.

But she stepped in—and that’s what made her different from others.

“Are you blind?” her voice cut through the noise—sharp, not loud, but precise enough to silence the man instantly. “Or do you just think rules don’t apply to you?”

The driver muttered something defensive.

She took one step closer. “Next time you drive like this, make sure you hit something strong enough to stop you.”

The driver got out of the car in anger, rushing toward her.

I watched from inside my car, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel. I was about to step out to protect her—but my mind shifted. Did she need my help? Of course not.

She hit the man so brutally across the face that he crashed to the ground, his nose starting to bleed. In embarrassment, he quickly got back into his car and drove away. Then she walked away too, disappearing between the cars.

My attention stayed fixed on her instead of the signal turning green.

Her courage, her skill—she made herself independent. That’s why she is Velvet Viper.

I reached the warehouse on time. There was so much going on in my mind that I needed to control. Even before, enemies had tried to destroy us. Rival companies had beaten us, but we stood strong and handled the storm. But what about what was happening in my heart? A mix of feelings distracting me—even in this situation, my heart was… giggling.

Walking through the corridor, I could feel she was already here before me. She was in traffic with me, yet she arrived here like she teleported.

Daksh caught up with me in the corridor. “Sir, Reyansh and Sameer went to the on-site location. Kartik will be here in thirty minutes. Nishant’s still in a meeting.”

I nodded.

“We need to do a press conference for this.”

“Yes. Arrange it.”

I walked into the meeting room, and as per my instincts, I was right. Danger doesn’t always come immediately—it gives hints before it arrives. I was right about her… but failed to detect the danger coming to my company.

She was sitting on the sofa, head tilted back, watching the news on the screen—flames, destruction, my empire being discussed like a failing headline.

She didn’t turn when I entered. She didn’t even acknowledge me.

Just sat there, legs crossed, watching the screen like she was evaluating a problem—not reacting to it.

I walked toward her.

In the middle of a crisis like this… I thought talking to her would calm me. Because I was craving her attention—to look at me.

“Enjoying the show?” I said, standing close beside her. I felt strangely happy being this close to danger.

A soft laugh left her lips.

“You call this a show?” she said, finally glancing at me. “Looks more like your empire falling apart.”

My jaw tightened slightly. She was really mocking me.

“Be careful,” I said calmly. “You’re standing inside that same empire.”

She smiled—slow, unimpressed.

“That’s the problem,” she replied. “You built something this big… and still couldn’t protect it.”

I let out a quiet breath. “It’s under control.”

“Is it?” she stood up, eyes flicking back to the screen. “One port. Now a factory. What’s next?”

Silence stretched for a second.

She shifted a little closer to me. A long hooded coat framed her figure, shadowing her face just enough to keep it half-hidden. High black heeled boots, black pants, a fitted black shirt—everything about her was deliberate, controlled. Her hair fell in soft bangs across her face, the rest cascading down almost to her thighs. Her lips were red, faintly shining, but it was her eyes that held me—dark, steady, impossible to ignore.

“You’re assuming too much,” I said.

“And you’re ignoring too much,” she shot back instantly. “Maybe you are turning weak. Unable to see…”

Her words landed deep. She was right—I was unable to look away from those dark eyes. My heart raced, not from anger, but from this moment itself.

“Careless,” she added quietly and laughed.

She wasn’t mocking just to insult.

She was provoking.

Pushing.

“You think I don’t know that?” I asked, my voice lower now.

I stepped closer, closing the distance completely. I lifted my hand and moved the strand of hair falling near her ear, tucking it behind.

“Listen to me carefully. That’s why I hired you—to kill the enemies coming in my way,” I said. Her laughter dropped, but her smile didn’t fade completely. Still—I could see it weaken.

I grabbed her by the waist and turned her toward the mirror in front of us. We both faced our reflection—my hands still on her waist. I leaned closer to her ear and whispered,

“To kill a woman who keeps distancing herself from me… keeps mocking me… keeps ignoring me.”

Her jaw dropped. The smile vanished. I could see her mind struggling to process it, her heartbeat rising fast enough that I could almost hear it. She tried to break my grip, trying to remove my hand from her waist—but it was too tight. She wouldn’t succeed.

“Just a few more seconds,” I said with a low, amused laugh.

I could see droplets of sweat on her face. Her hands were soft—how lucky the guns were that she held them in those hands. Pink, trembling slightly. I had no intention of removing my hand from her waist. It was so thin… perfect to hold. And yes—it would be beautiful to see.

Her signature perfume—rose—filled my senses, blending with mine until it felt like the scent belonged to both of us. Like I was standing in a garden made only of roses—with her at the center of it. Of course, there would be no one else there. Even in heels, she looked small in front of me—light enough to lift with one hand… if she didn’t decide to scratch my face with those sharp nails of hers. She probably had weapons hidden across her body. And the thought of discovering them, one by one, with my own hands… was far more distracting than it should have been.

“What are you doing?” she gritted her teeth. “Leave my waist!” she shouted. Her voice rose high—I was hearing it like this for the first time.

She slid her right hand under her sleeve, pulling out a hidden knife from her wrist, and swung it at me.

I caught it mid-air with my left hand—easily—because my right hand was still gripping her waist. I saw her face turn pale in surprise. Shock. Disappointment.

I twisted the knife out of her hand and threw it away. Then I turned her back, pressing her against the mirror.

“Don’t ever try to provoke me again,” I said.

I could see the anger in her eyes—burning, alive, waiting for revenge. Fighting an assassin is never easy. They are deadly. But this wasn’t my first time. I had been targeted before. I learned their movements, their thinking—the way they plan, the way they survive.

But this was the first time… I felt something else for one.

Maybe I needed to watch her more closely. Understand what went on in her mind.

And I liked that.

I walked out of the room without looking back. I knew she was furious—that her target was still alive after her attack.

I called out to the guards loudly. Daksh and Kartik came toward me.

“Give her water,” I said with a slight laugh.

“What happened, sir?” Kartik asked, trying to peek inside the room from behind me.

“Some interesting conversation,” I replied, walking toward my office to check some files before the next meeting with her. I hoped she calmed down by then.

My heart was still giggling so badly… I couldn’t stop it.

After half an hour, we gathered in the meeting room—for her.

Daksh stood near the screen, Kartik leaning against the table, files already arranged.

Something was stirring in my head.

The man who had hired a sniper to shoot my brother  was the same one who had blasted my seaport and now, it felt like he was behind this incident too.

A pattern.

I believed he was behind all of it.

My known enemies—Aakash Singhania and Vivek Chauhan—weren’t directly involved in the last two incidents. We had destroyed each other’s businesses before—played our own version of war for years. Aakash had been my enemy for almost a decade.

But this…

This felt different.

For now, he was targeting only those units—the ones newly established through foreign alliances.

I had to find him before he struck again.

“As you can see, we’ve suffered a major loss,” Daksh began, scrolling through the red file in his hand. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion. He was the first to receive the news—and he hadn’t slept since. “So we want to hire you as our personal assassin. We’re willing to give you everything you ask for—if you take our contract.”

“Like what?” she said, smiling at him.

That smile wasn’t soft.

It was sharp enough to make a man uncomfortable.

Her fingers tapped lightly on the glass table—creating a slow, rhythmic sound. Her nails were sharp enough to leave marks even on polished surfaces.

“You want, I can even give you my life—in exchange for more money and luxury,” she added.

“As an assistant, you already give your life every time, don’t you?” I said calmly.

“We’ll give you more money… and anything else you might want,” I added.

Her gaze shifted to me.

And then—her smile faded the moment our eyes locked.

A death glare.

She still hadn’t recovered from what happened half an hour ago.

Kartik stepped in smoothly. “You’ll have full operational freedom. Any kind of weapons you want—we’ll provide them as per your demand.”

That made her smile again.

When it comes to paperwork and documents, Daksh is always ahead. A genius. Calm. He rarely gets involved in fights—his strength lies in precision and strategy. Handling real work on paper comes naturally to him.

Kartik, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. A brilliant fighter—his aim never misses. Quick, ruthless, and efficient when it comes to removing someone from the way. Brutal by nature, with a temper that’s hard to control.

Both are dangerous in their own ways.

Kartik’s words made her smile again.

“I don’t like bargaining,” she said.

“You won’t need to,” I replied. “You’ll get our men too. And they follow your command—only within the mission scope.”

She considered that.

“Trained?” she asked.

“Enough to make their presence worth it for you,” Kartik answered.

A small huff of amusement escaped her. “Good.”

Daksh continued, “Resources, intel, movement—everything will be routed through us.”

“And if your intel turns out to be wrong?” she challenged.

“Then take our contract,” I said, “and prove us wrong.”

That made her pause.

Just for a second.

“I’d really enjoy doing that,” she said, leaning back in the chair—mocking again.

That’s when I noticed it.

A tattoo.

Just above the collar of her shirt, a snake tattoo stretched upward along her neck to her chin—a viper.

A quiet symbol of what drove her to fight.

“What do we consider this then? Are you in?” Daksh asked.

“Well,” she said, glancing between all of us, “there’s no stepping back now.”

“Then read this and sign,” Daksh said, sliding the red file toward her.

She took her time, reading every line carefully. After a moment of silent approval, she signed.

“Thank you,” Daksh said.

She stood, turned, and walked toward the door—but just before leaving, she looked at me.

Just once.

Then she walked out.

The boardroom inside the warehouse was silent when I entered.

Not the comfortable kind—

The kind that waits.

A long table cut through the room, screens glowing faintly with falling graphs and damage reports. Daksh, Kartik, Sameer, Nishant, Reyansh—already in place. No one spoke. No one needed to.

Loss doesn’t knock.

It walks in and takes a seat.

The door opened.

Dr. Lukas Reinhardt stepped in.

Tall, blue-eyed—he looked younger than the last time I had seen him. The wrinkles beneath his eyes were gone, even the grey at his roots had disappeared, but his presence remained the same. His face held no expression—just control, and a quiet awareness of the consequences this meeting would shape.

We shook hands.

“Mr. Rathor,” he said evenly, “this incident has cost both our companies.”

“It has,” I replied. “Which is why we fix it—together.”

The screens lit up—images of destruction, numbers bleeding red, headlines already turning this into a failure.

He watched everything in silence.

Then finally—

“ARIO will continue this partnership,” he said, “but only if Rathor Group can guarantee stability. Another incident like this—”

“—won’t happen,” I cut in.

The room went still.

“This wasn’t negligence,” I continued. “It was interference. And whoever did this targeted your company as much as mine.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“We don’t step back under pressure.”

A pause.

“We remove it.”

Something shifted in his expression. Not approval. Understanding.

“Very well,” he said. “But we does not invest in uncertainty.”

I gave a faint smile.

“Neither do we.”

The deal stood.

When they left, silence returned. I didn’t sit for long.

“We need to find who’s behind this,” I said, my voice low but clear.

Because whoever touched the Rathor Group—

Had just declared war.

And I don’t lose wars.