His Grumpy Wife

you did the right thing

tw: mention of torture

Aniket's Pov

The notification brought a surge of happiness as it carried news from the person I had hired to track down Alisha's culprit. The investigator had successfully located the individual and was en route to our office's godown. The sense of relief and anticipation swept through me, knowing that the pursuit for justice and answers was progressing. The unfolding events hinted at a turning point in the quest to unveil the truth behind Alisha's ordeal.

Upon reaching the location, the unexpected sight of Rohan, an uncle and one of my father's most trusted individuals in the company, left me taken aback. As I approached him, the fear and guilt in his eyes were unmistakable. It was evident that he was aware I knew the reason for his captivity. The atmosphere crackled with tension, and the revelation of his involvement in the situation raised more questions than answers. The once trusted figure now stood in a different light, and the confrontation that loomed promised to unravel the intricacies of a hidden truth.

: (

Aniket stormed towards Rohan, fury contorting his features. With a thunderclap crack, he delivered a stinging slap that sent Rohan, chair and all, crashing to the floor. The chair splintered on impact, its shattered remains mimicking the wreckage of Rohan's composure.

Aniket's men, burly figures with eyes as cold as steel, hefted Rohan back onto the chair, his head lolling like a broken doll. A rasping breath escaped Rohan's lips, laced with pain and defiance.

"Curious?" Aniket snarled, voice dripping with venom. "Curious about Alisha? Is that your pathetic excuse? Don't you dare play innocent with me, Rohan! I know what you were doing to her, the games you were playing. And I won't stand for it!"

His fist shot out, a blur of bone and muscle connecting with Rohan's jaw. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room, punctuated by Rohan's choked gasp. But Aniket wasn't done. Punch after the punch rained down, each blow a hammer blow against Rohan's pride and defiance.

Aniket's rage pulsed through the room, each breath a hot ember threatening to ignite. He loomed over Rohan, the fallen chair like a discarded toy beside him.

"Curious?" Aniket's voice was a low growl, each word laced with venom. "Curious about what? About how her tears taste? About how her screams would echo in this darkness?"

Rohan, slumped against the wall, his face a canvas of pain, met Aniket's gaze with defiance. "I never meant to—"

But the words were drowned in another blow. Aniket's fist, a bludgeon of fury, found purchase on Rohan's ribs. The air wheezed from the victim's lungs, replaced by a guttural gasp. The scene twisted into a grotesque dance of violence, Aniket's blows landing with a sickening thud against flesh and bone.

"Intentions? Curiosity? You call that what you did to Alisha? Curious, were you, about the taste of her fear, the sound of her tears?" Each word was a jab, a punch to the gut, punctuated by the slam of a fist against the table.

Rohan flinched, but met Aniket's gaze with a defiant flicker in his own eyes. "I made a mistake," he rasped, voice thick with pain. "But I didn't hurt her, not truly."

The flicker was snuffed out in an instant. Aniket's hand, swift as a viper, whipped across Rohan's face, a crimson bloom blossoming on his cheek. The chair rocked back, held steady only by the men's grip.

Men, Aniket's loyal shadows, scurried to obey, hauling Rohan back onto the chair with rough hands. His head throbbed, his vision blurring at the edges. Aniket's voice, when it came, was a low growl, laced with barely controlled rage.