𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 18+

48.𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

Hey guys!!
Welcome backkk! ✨💖

Sabse pehle…
Haan, haan, finally aap logon ne woh target complete kar hi diya 😭🔥
Itna time laga diya ki mujhe lag raha tha main next chapter ke saath buddhi ho jaungi.
But anyway… YOU DID IT, so as promised —
Here’s your chapter!

Ab baat karte hain NEXT CHAPTER ke target ki 👀💅

Votes – 320+
Comments – 100+

Aur haan…
Main target drop kar rahi hoon 😭
Par agar is baar bhi achieve nahi kiya na toh…
🔪😌 (samajh jao)

Waise iss chapter mein thoda comedy, thoda drama — ekdum mast vibe hai.
Dive in and enjoy! 🔥

_________________________________________

Author pov

Next Morning — 9:00 AM

The sun spilled its golden light over the grand white sandstone structure of the Rajasthan Secretariat, glinting off the tall glass windows and the polished emblem of the state fluttering proudly above. Outside, the atmosphere was sharp with discipline ,armed guards lined the entrance, officers stood at every checkpoint, and the rhythmic sound of boots echoed across the marble floors.

Inside, on the topmost floor, the Chief Minister’s Office carried an aura of controlled power spacious and refined, with soft beige walls, dark mahogany furniture, and thick curtains that diffused the sunlight just enough to make the room feel both regal and restrained. One wall was filled with framed photographs ,official meetings, handshakes, and headlines declaring Vikram’s victories. Behind his main desk, the state emblem glimmered, watching over the space like an ever-present reminder of authority.

But right now, Vikram wasn’t behind his grand desk. He sat instead on the leather couch by the window, legs crossed, his demeanor relaxed yet commanding. Across from him stood Rajat, flipping through a file, his tone all business.

“Sir, this man—he’s expanding his reach again,” Rajat said, voice tight. “We’ve intercepted calls linking his men to shipments near the border. Drugs, weapons, maybe even something bigger. And some of the ministers—” he hesitated, lowering his voice, “—are either bought or scared. They don’t want to act.”

Vikram leaned back, expression unreadable, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Typical,” he muttered. “Every time we try to clean the filth, someone in power throws mud to protect it.”

Rajat sighed. “If we push too hard, the opposition will make noise. The press is already hinting at internal conflict.”

Vikram’s gaze sharpened. “Let them. Politics isn’t about avoiding noise, Rajat. It’s about making sure your voice is the loudest one in the room.”

There was a quiet pause. The AC hummed faintly. Then Vikram reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a silver cigarette case. With a flick, he lit one, the flame briefly reflecting in his eyes. He drew in a long breath, exhaling slowly as smoke curled upward, blurring the sunlight streaming through the blinds.

Rajat hesitated but didn’t interrupt. They both knew this was Vikram’s way of thinking—smoke and silence before decisions that often changed fates.

But before he could take another drag, a hand suddenly reached out and snatched the cigarette from between his fingers.

Vikram froze, eyes lifting sharply. His jaw tightened, and the faint smirk disappeared, replaced by something far darker. His fingers curled into a fist as his gaze rose to meet her.

Aradhya.

She stood before him in a blue-green saree, the fabric glinting softly under the light, her hair cascading neatly over one shoulder. Ethereal—as always—but her expression wasn’t tender. Her brows were drawn together, eyes narrowed, disapproval burning quietly in them.