⚠️Trigger warning ⚠️

This chapter consists of the involvement of blood .

I've only posted the pictures because people who had followed me said yes .

As soon as I saw the message, a wave of terror washed over me. My fingers trembled as I dialed Mishti's number again, but there was no answer. Desperation clawed at my throat, making it hard to breathe. Without hesitation, I dialed the landline at our house, hoping for any response.

Bhai came over, concern etched across his face. "Abir, kya hua hai?"

"Mishti," I managed to say, my voice tight with fear. Without wasting another second, I grabbed my car keys and sprinted towards the door. I could hear Bhai calling after me, but his words were drowned out by the roaring panic in my mind.

I threw myself into the car and started the engine, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. I didn't care about the speed; I didn't care about the danger. The only thing that mattered was getting to Mishti as quickly as possible.

The tires screeched as I sped down the road, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. My mind raced with terrifying images, each one worse than the last. I couldn't lose her. Not like this.

As I tore through the streets, dodging traffic and ignoring every speed limit, the message replayed in my mind, taunting me with its brutality. My pulse quickened with every mile, my fear for Mishti's safety driving me to push the car to its limits.

"Hold on, Mishti," I muttered under my breath, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I'm coming. Just hold on."

The city blurred past me in a haze of lights and shadows, my focus narrowing to the singular goal of reaching our home. Every second felt like an eternity, every red light and slow-moving car an unbearable obstacle. But I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop until I had her safe in my arms.

As I approached our street, a new surge of panic gripped me.

What if I was too late? What if the monster behind those messages had already made good on his threats?

No. I couldn't think like that. I had to stay focused, had to believe I could still save her.

The car skidded to a halt in front of our house, and I leaped out, not even bothering to shut the door behind me. I ran to the front door, my heart pounding in my ears, and prayed with every fiber of my being that I wasn't too late.

Kartik screeched his car to a stop, barely taking the time to cut the engine before he bolted out. He saw Abir, who had just exited his own car, a look of sheer panic etched across his face. Karan and Vikram, right on their heels, followed them toward the house.

The sight that greeted them at the entrance sent a chill down their spines. The security guard's body lay motionless on the floor, a pool of blood spreading out beneath him. The two guards stationed at the front door were equally lifeless, their necks twisted at unnatural angles.

Without exchanging a word, the four men hurried inside. Abir led the charge, his face set in grim determination. They reached the lift, and as the doors slid open, a bloody handprint on the mirror inside caused everyone to pause. The sight was a stark, horrifying reminder of the danger Mishti was in.

Gulping down his fear, Abir punched the button for their floor, his mind racing with images of what could be awaiting them. The ride up felt agonizingly slow, each second stretched into an eternity by the oppressive silence.

The doors finally opened, and they stepped out, their footsteps echoing ominously in the corridor. Abir's heart hammered in his chest as they approached the apartment. He fumbled with his keys, his hands shaking, before finally managing to unlock the door.

As they pushed inside, the overwhelming scent of blood hit them immediately. The sight was even worse: trails of blood smeared across the walls and floor, leading towards the living room. Abir's stomach churned, but he forced himself to move forward.

Karan and Vikram exchanged horrified glances, their faces pale. Kartik stayed close to Abir, his own fear mingling with determination. They had to find Mishti. They had to get her out of here.

With every step they took deeper into the house, the tension mounted. Abir's mind was a whirlwind of fear and fury, each breath a struggle as he braced himself for what they might find.

The men moved cautiously through the blood-smeared hallway, their dread intensifying with each step. Abir led the way, his heart pounding so violently that he could hear it in his ears. They rounded the corner to the living room, and what they saw made their blood run cold.

The living room was a macabre scene. Blood was everywhere: splattered on the walls, pooling on the floor, and staining the once-pristine white furniture. The sofa cushions were soaked through, the coffee table was smeared with handprints, and a trail of crimson led from the entrance to the center of the room.

Abir's breath caught in his throat as his eyes followed the trail. On the floor, near the edge of the couch, lay Mishti. Her body was limp, surrounded by a spreading pool of blood. Cuts and gashes marred her skin, and her clothes were torn and soaked through. The sheer amount of blood suggested she had been there for a while, bleeding and suffering alone.

Kartik gasped, his hand flying to his mouth as he staggered back a step. Karan and Vikram, momentarily frozen by the horror of the scene, quickly sprang into action. Karan dropped to his knees beside Mishti, checking for any signs of life.

"Mishti!" Abir cried out, his voice breaking. He rushed to her side, dropping to the floor and lifting her into his arms. Her body was alarmingly cold and unresponsive. Tears streamed down his face as he called her name again and again, his voice a desperate plea.

Karan pressed his fingers to Mishti's neck, searching for a pulse. His face was a mask of concentration, but the look in his eyes when he finally pulled away was one of despair. "It's faint," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to get her to a hospital, now."

Abir nodded frantically, his tears mingling with the blood on Mishti's face as he cradled her. Kartik grabbed his phone and called the hospital to prepare , his hands shaking so badly he could barely dial the numbers.

Vikram sat on the driver seat as he was speedy drove towards the hospital. The moments stretched on painfully, each second feeling like an eternity. Abir held Mishti close, whispering words of love and encouragement into her ear, praying she could hear him.

"Hang on, Mishti," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "Please, hang on. We're going to get you help. You're going to be okay. Please, don't leave me."

As they reached the hospital , nurses and doctors quickly came up with the stretcher as abir delicately placed mishti.

Abir found himself pushed to the side, helplessly watching as they worked to stabilize Mishti.

Every moment felt like a nightmare from which he couldn't wake. The image of Mishti's broken, bloodied body was seared into his mind, a haunting reminder of how fragile life truly was.

The hospital was a blur of activity as paramedics rushed Mishti through the doors, her life hanging by a thread. Abir, Kartik, Karan, and Vikram followed closely, their hearts heavy with fear and desperation. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered as they moved down the sterile hallways, the smell of antiseptic sharpness in the air.

"She needs immediate surgery," the doctor announced as they reached the emergency room. "Her injuries are severe, and she's lost a significant amount of blood. We need to take her to the operating theatre right away."

Abir's eyes were fixed on Mishti's pale face as they wheeled her away, a sense of helplessness washing over him. The doctor turned to the group, his expression grave. "We're going to need a lot of blood. Do any of you know her blood type?"

"AB negative," Abir said immediately, his voice trembling. "Please, do whatever you can to save her." " Just save her doctor please "Abir said while folding his hands.

The doctor nodded. "We'll need to test for matches among you and possibly reach out to the blood bank. Please, come with me."

As they moved towards the lab, Abhimaan, Ishaan, and Tara burst through the hospital doors, their faces etched with worry. Abir glanced up, his eyes meeting Abhimaan's. The two brothers exchanged a silent, anguished look, understanding the gravity of the situation without needing words.

"Abir," Abhimaan called out, rushing to his side. "What happened? How is she?"

Abir shook his head, his voice breaking. "She's in surgery. She's lost so much blood. They need more. We need to help her."

Ishaan and Tara stood behind Abhimaan, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear. Tara stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Abir's shoulder. "We'll do whatever it takes. We're here for her."

The family followed the doctor to the lab, where they were quickly tested for compatibility. Abir's mind was racing, flashes of the horrifying scene at their apartment replaying in his mind: the blood-soaked living room, Mishti's lifeless body in his arms, the coldness of her skin. He clenched his fists, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.

Minutes felt like hours as they waited for the results. The tension was palpable, each passing second a cruel reminder of how precarious Mishti's situation was. Finally, the doctor returned, holding a clipboard.

"We have a match," he said, looking at Abhimaan. "We can use your blood. We need you to come with us immediately."

Abhimaan nodded, his face determined. "I'll do it. Just save her."

As Abhimaan was led away, Abir leaned against the wall, his legs feeling weak. Kartik and Karan stood nearby, their faces reflecting the same mix of fear and hope. Naira and Ishaan tried to offer words of comfort, but the weight of the situation made it difficult to find solace.

Abir's mind drifted back to the moments before they arrived at the hospital. The memory of Mishti's bloodied, lifeless form was seared into his consciousness, a haunting image that he couldn't shake. He remembered the way her body felt in his arms, so cold and fragile, and the helplessness he felt as he whispered desperate promises of love and safety.

"Please, Mishti," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. "Please, come back to me. I can't lose you. Not like this."

The hours dragged on as they waited for news from the operating theatre. The sterile white walls of the hospital seemed to close in on them, the oppressive silence punctuated only by the occasional beep of medical equipment and the muffled voices of the staff.

Finally, the doors to the operating room swung open, and the doctor emerged, his face a mask of professional calm. Abir, Kartik, and the rest of the family rushed forward, their hearts in their throats.

"She's stable for now," the doctor said, his tone cautious. "We've managed to stop the bleeding and replace the lost blood, but she's still in critical condition. The next 24 hours will be crucial."

A collective sigh of relief swept through the group, but the tension didn't fully dissipate. Abir felt a mixture of hope and fear, knowing that while Mishti had survived the initial ordeal, the fight was far from over.

As they settled into the waiting room, Abir couldn't help but replay the events in his mind, the image of Mishti lying in that pool of blood a constant torment. He held onto the hope that she would pull through, that they would have the chance to rebuild their life together, but the fear of losing her lingered, a dark shadow over his thoughts.

"Hang in there, Mishti," he whispered to himself. "We need you. I need you."
____________________________________

Abir stormed out of the hospital, his face a mask of grim determination. Karan and Vikram followed closely behind, their expressions mirroring the fierce resolve in Abir's eyes. Abhimaan and Ishaan, seeing the urgency in Abir's stride, quickly caught up, while Ahaan and Kabir stayed behind at the hospital, ready to assist with anything needed.

Abir wasted no time as he climbed into his car, his mind a whirlwind of rage and sorrow. The drive to his penthouse was a blur, his thoughts consumed by the image of Mishti's bloodied body. The car screeched to a halt in front of the building, and Abir leaped out, barely waiting for the others to catch up.

As they reached the penthouse, the sight that greeted them was horrifying. Blood was splattered across the living room floor, walls, and furniture, painting a grotesque picture of violence and pain. Abir's heart clenched painfully, tears of anguish streaming down his face.

Police officers and chief Commissioner Virat Shekhwat who was also abir's friend were already on the scene, their faces somber as they combed through the apartment for evidence. One of the officers approached Abir, recognizing him immediately.

"Mr. Rajvansh, we need to ask you some questions," the officer said, his tone professional but gentle, aware of the distress Abir was in.

Abir nodded, barely able to tear his eyes away from the blood-stained room.

"Who did this?" he demanded, his voice choked with emotion. "Who hurt her?"

The officer shook his head. "We're still investigating. All the security cameras in the building were tampered with, so we don't have any footage yet."

A spark of hope ignited in Abir's chest. "Wait," he said, turning to face the officer fully. "I have a secret camera installed in the house. It's hidden and might have caught the culprit. Follow me."

He led the police to a discreet corner of the living room, where he pulled back a decorative panel to reveal a small, concealed camera. The officer's eyes widened in surprise and appreciation.

"Good thinking, Mr. Rajvansh. We'll get the footage from this camera immediately."

Abir watched as the police extracted the camera and began to access its recordings. His mind raced with a mix of hope and dread. He needed to know who had done this to Mishti, but he also feared what he might see.

As the footage began to play, Abir's heart pounded in his chest. The room fell silent, all eyes glued to the screen. The camera had a clear view of the living room, and it wasn't long before the door burst open and a figure stepped inside.

Gasps filled the room as the assailant came into view. The man was clad in black, his face obscured by a mask. He moved with cold precision, his actions deliberate and merciless. Abir's fists clenched in fury as he watched the man attack Mishti, leaving her to bleed out on the floor.

"Pause it there," the officer instructed, scrutinizing the figure closely. "We need to identify this man as quickly as possible."

Abir's eyes never left the screen, his mind replaying the scene over and over. The rage he felt was almost unbearable, but beneath it was a deep, aching sorrow for Mishti and the suffering she had endured.

"Vishal Raghuvanshi" abir spoke with his voice full in rage as he stormed out of the penthouse.
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Trouble-trouble !

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Author T