**Shubman's POV**

The night was thick with silence, the kind that seemed to hum, pressing against the walls. Shubman sat in the corner, his tall frame shrouded in shadows. The pale moonlight slanted through the narrow window, bathing the room in a silvery glow. Across from him, Ishan sat on the edge of the bed, his wrists freed but his eyes still burning with restrained fury. Shubman could feel it, the tension rippling between them like an electric current.

But this wasn't what bothered him the most. No, it was the unfamiliar knot in his chest-a strange sensation he couldn't shake since the moment he'd laid eyes on Ishan.

Shubman had been through this routine before. Kidnappings, deals, debts paid with people rather than money. It was never personal, never supposed to be personal. Yet, sitting here, watching Ishan's every movement, he knew that something about this was different. There was an invisible line between them, drawn by something beyond their control, something far more dangerous than either of them realized.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" Ishan's voice cut through the quiet, sharp but laced with something more-confusion, curiosity maybe. His gaze was direct, unnervingly so.

Shubman tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Just making sure you don't try anything stupid."

Ishan scoffed, leaning back against the headboard, his arms crossing over his chest. "Right. Because I'm such a threat to you." The sarcasm dripped from his words, but there was an edge of bitterness that Shubman didn't miss.

Shubman didn't respond, choosing instead to watch him in silence. Ishan's wit was like a defensive shield, something that intrigued him more than it should. Most people in Ishan's position would've been terrified, frozen with fear, but not him. The defiance in his eyes was sharp, alive, and it made Shubman's pulse quicken in a way that unnerved him.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice low but firm. "You don't get it, do you? You should be scared. Things aren't as simple as you think."

Ishan raised an eyebrow, his expression challenging. "Then enlighten me. Who are you really? What do you want from me?"

Shubman felt the weight of those words, the questions sinking deep into his chest. Who was he? He hadn't asked himself that in years. Not since... No. He shut the thought down as quickly as it surfaced. The past wasn't something he ever allowed himself to dwell on.

"What I want," he said, his voice almost a whisper, "is none of your concern."

But even as he said it, he knew that wasn't entirely true. There was something he wanted now, something he couldn't put a name to. And that want had everything to do with Ishan.

Ishan's eyes were searching his face, reading between the lines of Shubman's cold exterior. "You don't seem like the type who enjoys playing the villain," Ishan said after a pause, his voice softer, more thoughtful. "So why are you doing this? What's in it for you?"

Shubman clenched his jaw. There were so many answers to that question, none of which he was ready to reveal. He stood up abruptly, moving to the window and staring out into the darkness. His tall frame cast long shadows on the floor, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face. He didn't have to answer Ishan's question. Not yet.

The silence stretched between them again, heavy and filled with unspoken tension. Shubman could feel Ishan's gaze on his back, could sense the wheels turning in his head as he tried to piece together the puzzle.

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?" Ishan finally said, his tone more resigned now, though the spark of defiance still lingered.

Shubman turned back toward him, his expression unreadable. "Not yet."

There was a beat of quiet before Ishan let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Right. 'Not yet.' Let me guess-this is where you keep me locked up in this room until you decide what to do with me?"

Shubman shrugged. "Something like that."

Ishan sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. He stood up from the bed, pacing the small room, his energy restless, crackling like static in the air. "You don't have to do this, you know. Whatever mess you're in, there's got to be another way."

Shubman's jaw tightened. There was no other way. He had made choices long ago that had led him down this path-choices that had cost him everything. And now, here he was, trapped in a life he had never truly wanted. But Ishan didn't need to know that. Not yet.

"You don't know anything about my mess," Shubman replied, his voice colder than he intended.

Ishan stopped pacing and looked at him, his eyes narrowing. "Maybe not. But I'm starting to get the feeling that you don't either."

That struck a nerve, and Shubman's temper flared, though he kept it buried deep. "You talk too much."

Ishan grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward, but it was loaded. Shubman leaned against the wall, watching as Ishan paced again, his eyes darting from the locked window to the bolted door. He was planning something-Shubman could see it in the way his movements had grown more deliberate.

"You're not going anywhere," Shubman said, his voice firm.

Ishan's gaze snapped to him, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them palpable. Then, Ishan's lips curled into a smirk. "We'll see."

Shubman knew better than to underestimate him, but the truth was, part of him didn't want to. There was something about Ishan's rebellious streak that sparked something in Shubman-a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. He was drawn to it, to him, despite knowing how dangerous that attraction could be.

The problem was, it wasn't just physical. Sure, Ishan was attractive in an unconventional, boyish way-his messy hair, his sharp eyes, the way his expressions shifted from annoyance to amusement in the blink of an eye. But it was more than that. It was the way he carried himself, the way he refused to be a victim, even in a situation where most people would have broken down.

Shubman hadn't planned for this. He wasn't supposed to get involved. But as he stood there, watching Ishan's every move, he realized it might already be too late.

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted the moment. Shubman's eyes darkened as he moved swiftly toward it, his hand reaching instinctively toward the concealed weapon at his hip.

"What is it?" Shubman barked, his tone sharp.

One of his men entered, keeping his head low. "We have a problem."

Shubman's eyes narrowed. "What kind of problem?"

The man hesitated, glancing briefly at Ishan before leaning closer to whisper, "There's been movement. They're looking for the kid. If we don't move soon, they'll track us."

Shubman felt the weight of the words settle in his gut. Things were starting to spiral out of control faster than he'd anticipated. He turned back to Ishan, who was watching him with narrowed eyes, clearly aware that something was up.

"We're leaving," Shubman said curtly, moving to gather his things.

Ishan frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you mean 'we're leaving'? Where the hell are you taking me now?"

"Somewhere safer," Shubman replied without looking at him. "Things are about to get complicated."

Ishan snorted. "Right, because this hasn't been complicated enough already."

Shubman shot him a glare but didn't bother responding. He could feel Ishan's frustration simmering, but there was no time to explain. Whoever was after Ishan wasn't going to stop until they found him, and Shubman had no intention of letting that happen.

As they moved quickly out of the room, Ishan shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. "So, who's after me now? Can't keep up with all the people trying to ruin my life."

Shubman didn't answer. He kept his hand on Ishan's arm, guiding him through the narrow hallways of the safe house as they made their way toward the exit. But his mind was racing. Ishan had no idea just how deep this went. And Shubman wasn't sure he was ready for the truth either.

They reached the car outside, and as Ishan climbed in, Shubman couldn't help but glance at him again. There was something about the way he looked in the moonlight, his features softened but his eyes still sharp, that made Shubman's chest tighten.

He was in deep now. Too deep.

And there was no turning back.

---

The car's tires crunched against the gravel as they pulled into the parking lot of a rundown motel, its neon sign flickering in and out, casting erratic shadows across the cracked asphalt. Ishan's eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the sight of the dilapidated building, its once bright paint now peeling and faded.

"This is it?" Ishan asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "We're staying here?"

Shubman cut the engine and glanced over at him, his face as unreadable as ever. "It's quiet. Cheap. We'll be safe for the night."

"Safe, maybe. But what about... sanitary?" Ishan mumbled, eyeing the grimy windows and flickering sign that read "Vacancy." His usual sarcasm faltered as he imagined what might be crawling in the bedsheets.

Ignoring him, Shubman got out of the car, his tall frame casting a long shadow under the pale moonlight. Ishan watched him move, the casual confidence in his steps, the way his broad shoulders shifted under his jacket. There was something infuriatingly hot about how Shubman always seemed so in control, so calm, even in the most chaotic situations.

Shubman approached the front desk, and Ishan followed reluctantly, trying not to trip over a crack in the pavement. The clerk barely looked up as Shubman dropped some cash on the counter.

"One room," Shubman said, his voice low, almost a growl.

The clerk slid the key across the counter without a word, muttering, "Only one room left. One bed."

Ishan froze for a second, eyes darting between Shubman and the clerk. "Wait. One bed?"

Shubman didn't flinch. "It's fine."

"Fine?" Ishan echoed, his voice pitching slightly higher than usual. "You don't think that's going to be a little awkward?"

Shubman finally turned to look at him, his dark eyes locking onto Ishan's, completely unfazed. "It's just one night."
Ishan blinked, mouth opening to argue, but no words came out. Shubman's calm, matter-of-fact tone left him with nothing to say. He wanted to protest-hell, he should protest-but instead, he found himself trailing behind Shubman as they headed to the room.

The room was as grim as expected. A small, dingy space with threadbare curtains, a buzzing overhead light, and a single bed that looked like it hadn't seen clean sheets in years. Ishan glanced at the bed, then back at Shubman, who was already tossing his bag onto the floor like it didn't matter.

"This place is... quaint," Ishan muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Shubman shrugged, unbothered. "Better than the alternative."

"Which is?"

"Being found."

Ishan let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "Right. Of course."

He flopped down on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly on the uncomfortable mattress. He glanced up at Shubman, who was already unbuttoning his shirt, clearly ready to call it a night.

Ishan's breath hitched for a moment, eyes glued to the sight of Shubman's broad chest as he peeled the fabric away. Muscles rippled beneath his skin, lean but strong, and a light sheen of sweat clung to his collarbone from the long drive. Ishan tore his gaze away, his face heating up.

"Gonna take a shower," Shubman muttered, his voice low as he tossed his shirt aside and moved toward the small bathroom.

Ishan nodded, a little too quickly. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

The bathroom door creaked as it closed, and soon the sound of running water filled the room. Ishan stared at the wall, trying very hard not to think about what was happening on the other side of that door. His mind betrayed him, imagining the water cascading down Shubman's sculpted back, soaking into his dark hair, his skin glistening in the steamy haze.

Ishan groaned softly, burying his face in his hands. Focus, Ishan. Don't be an idiot.

Minutes passed, and the shower continued. Ishan stood up, pacing the small room in an attempt to shake off the awkward tension building inside him. He glanced at the bed, then at the floor. There was no way he was sleeping on that lumpy mattress next to Shubman. But the floor? Even worse.

The bathroom door suddenly creaked open, and Ishan spun around, eyes widening at the sight before him. Shubman stood in the doorway, a towel slung low around his hips, his hair damp and slicked back, droplets of water sliding down his chest.

Ishan's throat went dry. "You-uh... done?"

Shubman nodded, running a hand through his wet hair. "Bathroom's free."

Ishan swallowed hard, trying not to let his gaze linger too long on Shubman's bare skin. "Great. Thanks."

He bolted for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a little more force than necessary. Leaning against the sink, Ishan stared at his reflection in the mirror, his heart pounding. Get a grip, man.

Splashing cold water on his face, Ishan took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. But no amount of cold water was going to erase the image of Shubman standing there, all six feet of him, looking like he'd stepped out of some kind of dark fantasy.

This is bad, Ishan thought, shaking his head. Really bad.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, Shubman was already in bed, the blanket pulled up to his waist as he scrolled through something on his phone. Ishan hesitated, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"I'll, uh... sleep on the floor," Ishan offered, scratching the back of his neck.

Shubman didn't even look up. "Don't be stupid. There's enough space."

Ishan stared at the bed, then at Shubman, who wasn't giving him much of a choice. With a resigned sigh, he crawled into the other side of the bed, keeping as much distance between them as possible. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and he turned onto his side, facing away from Shubman.

The silence was suffocating. Ishan could hear the faint rustling of the blanket as Shubman shifted, his steady breathing filling the room. Every nerve in Ishan's body was on high alert, hyper-aware of the fact that Shubman was only inches away.

Minutes passed, and Ishan's mind raced. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will himself to sleep, but it was impossible. The heat of Shubman's body beside him, the scent of him-clean, with a hint of soap-kept pulling Ishan back into his thoughts.

Just when he thought he'd lose his mind, Shubman's deep voice cut through the darkness.

"You're fidgeting."

Ishan froze, his heart skipping a beat. "I'm not."

"You are."

Ishan turned slightly, just enough to see Shubman watching him from the corner of his eye. The moonlight from the window cast shadows across Shubman's face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the calm intensity in his gaze.

"I'm not used to... this," Ishan muttered, his voice softer than usual.

Shubman's lips twitched, almost like he was amused. "Relax. I'm not going to bite."

Ishan huffed out a laugh, but it was strained. "Yeah, well... good to know."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with something neither of them was ready to acknowledge. Shubman's eyes lingered on Ishan's face, studying him in the way that always made Ishan's skin tingle.

"Get some sleep," Shubman said finally, his voice low.

Easier said than done. Ishan turned back onto his side, heart still pounding. But this time, he let the closeness settle in, his body slowly relaxing as exhaustion began to pull him under.

Maybe, Ishan thought, his eyes growing heavy, just maybe, this isn't so bad.

As sleep began to claim him, he could feel the faintest brush of Shubman's arm against his, the warmth of his body radiating through the sheets. It was nothing, just the smallest touch, but it sent a shiver down Ishan's spine, one that he didn't quite understand.

Whatever was happening between them, it was only beginning.