THE DEVIL'S GAME

The air inside Velvet Noir was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, whiskey, and the underlying tension that came with dangerous men in power. The soft hum of music blended with the low murmurs of the elite, but Aarohi Mehta’s focus was locked on only one man.

Rudra Rathore.

He leaned casually against the bar, the dim light casting sharp shadows across his chiseled features. He wasn’t dressed in the flashy arrogance of the usual crime lords—no gold chains, no exaggerated display of wealth. Just a simple black shirt with the top two buttons undone, a glass of whiskey resting between his fingers, and a presence that was commanding without effort.

His dark eyes flicked toward her, holding a silent challenge.

Aarohi kept her steps measured, confident. The recorder hidden in her coat pressed against her ribs—a reminder of her mission. She wasn’t just here for a drink. She was here to bring him down.

But as she approached, she realized something unsettling—he was expecting her.

---

A GAME OF POWER

"Detective Mehta," Rudra greeted, his voice a deep, slow drawl. He didn’t sound surprised. He didn’t even look amused. Just… intrigued.

Aarohi stiffened. He knew who she was.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage," she replied smoothly, sliding onto the barstool beside him. "I wasn’t aware my reputation reached the underworld."

Rudra took a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving hers. "Oh, it does. After all, you’ve spent the last three years chasing my shadow. It would be rude if I didn’t at least remember your name."

Aarohi clenched her fists beneath the table. Cocky bastard.

"How thoughtful of you," she said, voice edged with sarcasm.

He smirked. "The question is, what brings Mumbai’s best detective to my club tonight? You’re either here to arrest me…" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something more dangerous. "Or to play."

Her heart pounded, but she didn’t let it show. He was testing her.

So, she played along.

"Maybe I just wanted a drink," she said coolly, waving at the bartender. "Whiskey, neat."

Rudra’s smirk deepened. "Whiskey? Interesting choice."

"Why?" Aarohi arched a brow.

He leaned back, tapping his glass. "Because whiskey is like power. It burns at first, but once you get used to it, you start craving the fire."

Aarohi let out a soft chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "And you, Mr. Rathore? Do you crave the fire, or do you just like watching others burn?"

The amusement in his eyes darkened. "Careful, detective. Playing with fire might get you burned."

"I don’t burn that easily," she shot back.

Silence settled between them. Not awkward—but charged. A silent battle, both refusing to look away first.

But he wasn’t the only one who knew how to play mind games.

Aarohi pulled out her phone, pretending to check messages, but in reality, she pressed a button on the hidden recorder. She needed evidence.

And she needed him to talk.

---

THE FIRST MOVE

"You and I both know what you are, Rudra," Aarohi said, voice dropping to a whisper. "A man with too much blood on his hands to ever be clean."

Rudra’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was something more in his gaze now. Something calculating.

"That’s bold of you to assume, detective," he mused, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Have you ever seen me kill someone?"

"No," she admitted.

"Then you don’t have proof."

Her jaw tightened. He was right. He was too smart to leave behind evidence, and too powerful for anyone to testify against him.

"But you and I both know the truth," she said, tilting her head. "You don’t need proof to recognize the devil when he’s standing right in front of you."

For a fraction of a second, something flickered in his eyes. Something unreadable.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"Maybe," Rudra admitted, finishing his drink. "But tell me, Detective Mehta… if I’m the devil, why did you come to my world willingly?"

Aarohi’s breath hitched.

Because I need to destroy you.

Because this isn’t just about justice. This is personal.

But before she could respond, her phone buzzed.

A message from Saanvi.

"Get out. Now. It’s a setup."

Aarohi’s blood ran cold.

She looked up at Rudra—and realization hit her like a bullet.

He knew. He knew she was recording. He knew she was here to trap him.