Page 111 of Entangled Vows
The officer nodded sharply. “We will. And sir… this wasn’t random. We found this on one of them.” He held up a small black device. “A network jammer. That’s why her phone had no signal.”
Vikram went still. His jaw clenched as his eyes darkened.
“Investigate this. Thoroughly,” he said, each word razor-sharp. “I want names. And if someone put them up to this…” He stepped forward, dropping his voice to a low, dangerous whisper. “Find them before I do.”
“Yes, Mr. Khurana.”
But Vikram barely heard the officer. His gaze was locked on the car… on her… on his wife. Mahika sat inside the car, still curled into the driver’s seat, as if bracing for impact. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself like a shield. Tears streaked her face, and her lips were trembling. Her wide, terrified eyes were fixed on something distant… somewhere he couldn’t reach.
His bloodied hands balled into fists as he took a slow, measured step forward.
The female officer knocked gently on the window. “Ma’am, you’re safe now. Please open the door.”
Mahika didn’t move.
“Ma’am,” the officer said again, her voice softer this time. “Your husband... he’s here. You can come out.”
And then, slowly, like she was waking from a nightmare, Mahika turned her head. Their eyes met, and the world seemed to stop. She opened the door with shaky hands. Her legs wobbled as they touched the ground, but then she looked straight into his eyes and ran towards him.
Vikram caught her mid-sob, her body crashing into his with a desperation that hit him straight in the gut. His arms locked around her, one hand gripping her waist, and the other cradling the back of her head as if he’d never let her go.
She buried her face in his chest, her body trembling, her voice breaking. “I thought… they were going to… I tried to call, Vicky… I couldn’t—”
“Shhh. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I’m here now.” His lips brushed the crown of her head, kissing her again and again as he whispered, “Stop crying, baby. I’ve got you.”
Her intense sobs tore through her, and his grip only grew tighter.
“I should’ve come sooner.” His voice was rough, each word sharp with guilt and anger.
She let go and crumpled against him. “I just kept thinking... what if they broke the glass or the door? What if—”
His voice was quieter than a whisper, but it carried more weight than a scream. “I would’ve killed them. Every single one of them.”
She looked up, her eyes searching his. His face was a mess of blood and bruises, a mask of exhaustion… but his eyes, despite everything, were focused intently on hers.
Her fingers clung to his torn shirt. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’d burn the world down for you,” he said simply, “and then build you a safer one.”
“You were in London… and still, you came. How?” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.
He held her face as if she were his lifeline.
“I just... felt I had to be here. So, I flew in early. And when I landed…I ran every red light to get here.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” She broke down, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’ll always be here for you, Momo,” he promised, his voice ringing with sincerity. “You’re my baby dragon. You are off-limits.”
He leaned in and kissed her temple to reassure her that she was safe. He didn’t move away. “You’re safe now. I promise.”
She cried silently in his arms, shaking, but she didn’t let go. And neither did he. Without another word, he bent down and lifted her into his arms. She didn’t put up a fight. She clung to his neck as if it were the only place in the world she could trust.
He walked her to the car and opened the passenger door. Gently, he settled her into the seat, then grabbed the blazer from the back and wrapped it over her shoulders. Sliding into the driver’s side, he started the engine and pulled onto the road.
When his bruised, bloodied hand closed over hers and held on tight, a sudden realisation washed over him. This thing between them felt like an entangled vow. It was laced with unspoken feelings, buried history, and something dangerously close to fate. A wordless commitment of what was to come. He hadn’t said it out loud, but he knew he’d always keep this promise. And for someone who always said too little, he’d just spoken more than words ever could.
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