Book 4 in the Proposal Series.
YUGANTIKA IYENGAR
"You cannot fight your doom. It will fucking destroy you, Pookie."
She laughed, wrecking it deep within her guts. A voice that could slice through all the weak hearts. "No one can bring doom on me."...
A/n: If you have not read my previous book of this series, there are references you may not understand. If time allows, do read my other book 'The Proposed Fling.' It is the book #3 of the Proposal series. 'The Proposed Rival' is the next book of the same series.
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The crimson filth traveled in a sleek path, reaching him and latching itself around his feet. His tom fords turning sticking, slimy with the time as he stood leaning against the old iron barrelling. Eyes hooked on his men who had their fun knocking, punching, and kicking on the DIY punching bag delivered to his warehouse this morning.
It was a parcel overdue.
This day was overdue.
With arms crossed, he watched them get frustrated as their knuckles soaked with blood. Some belonged to them while the rest was what turned the once jute brown jute in a bloody pile. He moved his feet away, grimacing as the dirty soul stared back at him.
Another sacrifice for the day. He scoffed and tried to wipe some with the dried ground.
"Are you tired, boys?" He asked glaring at his guest. Hearing huffed breaths and panting after a rigorous session of practice. "Don't stop. Not if you want the whole day off."
They grunted in response, taking a shift harsher than the last one as there was no more whimper left in the air.
There were only hiccups, slow, deranged, and shit-scared swallows left.
His phone chimed with the alert he had set. "Stop."
His command was heard and the men stood back and quick to form a file as he walked out of the place he held for the past two hours.
"Drop the bag." He asked his trusted guard who was quick to get in motion. The hook that held the sack levered down and Vishnu stabbed the bag open. Cutting half through, a messy form of entangled limbs and mass fell, and the smell of rotten blood filled the air.
A sharp yelp resonated making Tushar snort a chuckle.
"I thought you had lost your voice, Kailash." He mused and took a step forward only for the timid man to shuffle like a lab rat. "Lucky you it came back, otherwise my men would have to work more to make you scream."
"S...sir, please...let me go." Kailash, his guest for the last 18 days whimpered noisily.
"Don't beg. You are older than me. It doesn't look good." Tushar clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "Is she dead?"
"Yes, boss." Vishnu's eyes never faltered as he kicked the form. His skin did not recoil hovering over her crushed nose. Tushar should applaud the man for making out its location after the condition she was brought to.
An outsider would find her a bundle of mass and blood, no human.
"Good. Feed her to street dogs at the back. They were left hungry for a while." Two men brought a plastic bag and disposed of the body in it, carrying the mess towards the exit.
