Page 89 of Knot Their Arrangement

Maharaja's screams pierce the night, Hindi curses mixing with pure animal terror as the flames begin their hungry consumption.

The masked figure rises smoothly to their full height, completely unbothered by the inferno they've just created. Their head turns with mechanical precision until their glowing gaze fixes directly on me.

I'm next.

The realization hits me with the force of another car crash. My legs lock up as I try to step backward, nearly sending me sprawling back onto the asphalt. Now I understand why my goddess kept me here – not to witness an rescue, but to see my death approaching in a mask of red and blue.

The fire reflects off their mask, creating dancing patterns that make the electronic smile seem to twist and writhe. This is no random accident, no chance encounter on a rainy night.

This is an execution, and I've just witnessed the first act.

Maharaja's screams continue to fill the air, but they're growing weaker, more desperate. The flames climb higher, turning his precious car into a funeral pyre. The heat reaches me even at this distance, a preview of what awaits if I don't move.

Run.

The command comes from somewhere deep inside, some primal part of my brain that recognizes death when it sees it. This isn't like the threat of Maharaja's abuse or my father's arrangements. This is something far more immediate, far more final.

The masked figure takes a step toward me, their movement unnaturally smooth despite the uneven ground. Each step covers more distance than should be possible as if they're somehow bending space to close the gap between us faster.

Everything I've survived –the arranged marriage, the escape, the abuse, the crash– all of it was leading to this moment. My goddess wasn't testing my compassion by making me stay.

She was showing me what awaits if I don't run now.

The sirens still wail in the distance, but they sound farther away now as if the very mist is pushing them back. No help will arrive in time. No one will witness what happens here except the trees, the rain, and the masked executioner who's decided I need to join Maharaja in his fiery grave.

The glowing X patterns of their mask seem to bore into my soul, promising an end that will be neither quick nor merciful. Whatever –whoever– this is, they're not here to save me.

They're here to ensure no witnesses remain, no loose ends that could unravel whatever plan this is part of.

Run, you fool.

This time, my body obeys the command.

Survival instinct finally overcomes terror, sending adrenaline coursing through my veins like liquid lightning. My legs unlock, my muscles remember their purpose, and everything in me prepares for flight.

Because that's what I am now:

Prey.

15

FIGHT THROUGH THE DARKNESS OF DREAD

~KAMARI~

Faster. I need to run faster.

My feet pound against the forest floor, each step sending shockwaves of pain through my already battered body. Adrenaline courses through my veins like liquid fire, pushing me forward even as fatigue threatens to bring me down.

The saree that once symbolized tradition and propriety now becomes a hindrance to survival.

Wet silk catches on branches, threatens to tangle around my legs with every stride. But I can't stop to adjust it – can't risk even a moment's pause.

Not with death wearing a glowing mask somewhere behind me.

How many dark romance novels had I devoured where the heroine fled through woods like these? How many times had I swooned over the descriptions of pursuit and capture, finding excitement in the dance between predator and prey?

What a fool I was.

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