Ch:-4

The rest of the gang rushed over. Their laughter was gone now—replaced with tension & cruelty.

Kanika tried to fight as they pushed her down & retied her—this time tighter, rougher. She kicked, thrashed, even bite–but she was outnumbered. Her fists were strong, but not strong enough for five.

Still, she fought.

A thief shouted, "Hold her still, dammit!"

Another snatched her bangles, tearing them off her wrist.

A third ripped the golden rings from her fingers.

Kanika growled, "You'll regret this. Every last one of you."

They just laughed.

"Regret? You won't even live long enough to hear an apology, princess."

One man leaned in & tried to pull the delicate rosy chain from her neck—thin but shining even in the dim light.

Kanika's body tensed.

Her eyes–sharp, blazing–met his.

"Don't. Touch. That. Chain."

The man paused

For a moment, he saw not a bound girl–but a queen in spirit.

He chuckled darkly. "What's this? A trinket from your lover?"

Kanika's voice cracked like fire. "it belonged to my mother. And I swear on her ashes, if you touch it–your hands won't stay attached to your body."

The thief pulled back with a mocking bow. "Oooh, so fierce."

Another laughed. "Look at her–bleeding, bruised & still barking like she's got an army behind her."

The third gripped her by her hair & forced her head up.

"You're nothing now, princess. No crown, no guards. Just a scared little girl."

Kanika didn't flinch.

"I'd rather die than be scared of cowards like you."

Just then, a deeper voice echoed through the clearing.

"Then grant her wish."

The thieves turned. Their leader had arrived. Dressed in a thick cloak, a large scar cut across his left cheek, cold eyes, no soul behind them.

"She's a risk." he growled. "Too loud. Too proud. Kill her."

One of the men nodded & stepped forward, drawing a curved dagger.

Kanika closed her eyes briefly—her breath steady.

But in her heart, she whispered to her mother, "I'm not done yet."

The thief raised the dagger, gleaming under the dull flame. Kanika didn't look away–her stare defiant to the end.

Suddenly—

A deafening, thunderous voice cut through the air.

"Lay your filthy hand on her... and you're dead."

Everything froze.

The dagger stopped midair. The thieves turned sharply, startled.

From the shadows of the jungle, he emerged.

Tall. Cloaked in black. His face partially covered with a dark scarf. Only his eyes visible—sharp, cold & calculating. A sword rested on his back, but his hands were empty. Still, he moved like he didn't need a weapon to end lives.

His voice–low, rough, deep as the night sea, rolled again:

"I won't repeat myself."

One of the thieves scoffed. "Who the hell are you?"

Another charged with a yellow, "Get him!"

Before the man could even finish his shout, the mysterious stranger twisted his arm, slammed his face into a tree, & let him fall like a rag doll.

A second thief lunged—the stranger dodged with liquid grace, spun behind him, & slammed the hilt of his knife into the man's spine. He collapsed, groaning.

One after another, they attached. Each one got struck down with flawless precision. Not a single kill–just brutal, humiliating defeats.

Within minutes, all five were on the ground, wounded & whimpering.

Kanika watched in awe, bloodied but wide–eyed. She had never seen someone fight like that—calm, efficient, terrifying silent.

The man turned, walked towards her & kneeled.

Without a word, he gently cut the ropes binding her wrists & ankles.

Kanika sat upright slowly, her breathing shaky, her hands trembling.

He didn't touch her, didn't bow–he just stood in front of her, between her & the thieves, like a human shield.

Their eyes met.

Hers were fierce, proud–his, unreadable, like an ancient storm.

Then he spoke.

"Only you have the right to punish them."

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