The sky was a bruised purple, pouring down a relentless torrent of rain that blurred the neon lights of the city. Sia gripped the handles of her old, rusting bicycle, her knuckles white. She was drenched to the bone, her cheap windbreaker doing nothing against the freezing wind that sliced through the streets.
"Just three more deliveries, Sia. You can do this," she whispered to herself, squinting through the downpour.
She was a graphic designer by day and a delivery girl by night. Her father's medical bills didn't pay themselves, and in a city like this, innocence was a luxury she couldn't afford. Every pedal felt heavier than the last, her legs aching from the double shifts she had been pulling all week.
As she swerved to avoid a deep, muddy puddle near the curb, a pair of headlights suddenly blinded her. A silver car—old, dented, and looking as tired as she felt—skidded on the wet asphalt. The tires screeched, a sound that pierced through the rhythmic drumming of the rain.
The car clipped the back of her bike.
"Ah!" Sia cried out as she lost her balance. The world tilted, and she crashed onto the hard pavement. Her tiffin boxes clattered and slid across the road, the metal lids popping open. The contents—hours of her hard work and the only hope for her evening earnings—spilled into the muddy water.
"No... no, no, no," she sobbed, ignoring the sharp sting in her scraped knee. She crawled on the wet road, reaching for the ruined containers. The aroma of home-cooked curry mixed with the smell of wet asphalt. That was her entire day's earning, literally washed away in a second.
The car door creaked open, sounding like a rusted gate. A man stepped out, shielding his eyes from the rain with his hand. He wasn't wearing an expensive suit or a gold watch. He wore a faded grey hoodie and worn-out jeans that were frayed at the hems.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" the man hurried toward her, his voice laced with genuine panic. He knelt in the mud beside her, his hands hovering over her shoulders as if he were afraid to touch her without permission. "Are you hurt? Please tell me you're okay. The brakes on this old piece of junk are terrible... I've been meaning to fix them, but..."
Sia looked up, ready to scream, ready to let out all the frustration of her miserable life on this stranger. But the words died in her throat.
Even in the pouring rain, the man was breathtaking. He had a sharp, chiseled jawline and eyes that looked like dark chocolate—deep, warm, and currently full of agonizing concern. He didn't look like a villain; he looked like someone who struggled just as much as she did. A fellow soldier in the war of poverty.
"My deliveries... they're ruined," Sia choked out, her voice trembling. "I needed that money for my father's medicine."
"I'll pay for them," he said instantly, his hand diving into a frayed, leather wallet. He looked embarrassed as he opened it, revealing only a few crumpled notes and some loose change. "I... I'm just an intern at a small firm nearby. I don't have much right now, but please, take this. It's all I have until my next payday."
Sia looked at the pathetic pile of cash in his trembling hand, then at his honest, handsome face. Her heart, which had been hardened by the cruelty of the city, suddenly softened. He was offering his last bit of money to a stranger.
"No," Sia said, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, smearing mud on her cheek. "It was an accident. Keep your money. You look like you need it more than I do. We're both just trying to survive, aren't we?"
The man stared at her, a strange flicker crossing his eyes for a split second. For a heartbeat, the warmth in his gaze vanished, replaced by something cold, sharp, and terrifyingly calculating. But it was gone so fast that Sia thought it was just a trick of the lightning. He replaced it with a shy, grateful smile.
"I'm Rey," he said, extending a hand to help her up. "And I won't let you go home like this. You're shivering. Let me at least walk you to the nearest bus stop and help you carry what's left of your bike."
Sia hesitated. She had been taught never to trust strangers, but there was something about 'Rey' that felt safe. Or perhaps, she was just too tired to be careful anymore. She took his hand. His grip was firm, his skin unexpectedly smooth yet strong against her freezing touch.
"I'm Sia," she replied softly.
"Sia," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like a dark secret he had been waiting to whisper. "That's a beautiful name. A name that deserves a better night than this."
For the first time in months, Sia felt a spark of hope. She thought she had met a kindred soul—a man who understood the weight of the world. She didn't notice how his eyes never left her, tracking her every movement like a predator watching its prey.
Ten minutes later, after Rey had made sure Sia was safely on her bus, his entire demeanor changed. He stood on the sidewalk, watching the bus disappear into the rainy haze of the city.
The moment the bus turned the corner, the "struggling intern" persona evaporated. His slumped shoulders straightened, and his warm, boyish expression turned into a mask of pure, lethal ice.
He didn't get back into the dented silver car. Instead, he pulled a burner phone from his pocket and pressed a single button. Within seconds, a sleek, black armored SUV—a vehicle worth more than Sia's entire neighborhood—pulled up silently behind the dented car.
A man in a sharp black suit stepped out, holding a large black umbrella over Rey's head. He bowed so low his forehead nearly touched his knees.
"Sir, the Board of Directors is waiting for you at the headquarters. The merger papers for the Shekhawat empire are ready for your signature. They are anxious."
Reyansh—not 'Rey'—took a silk handkerchief from the assistant's hand. He wiped the mud off his fingers with a look of intense, visceral disgust, as if the very air of the street was polluting him. He tossed the "cheap" grey hoodie into a nearby trash can, revealing a custom-tailored, black silk shirt underneath that hugged his powerful frame.
"Let them wait," Reyansh Thorne said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low velvet that could make a man's blood run cold.
He pulled out a small, crumpled photograph from his pocket. It was a picture of Sia laughing with her father outside their small, humble home. It was a picture taken by a private investigator months ago.
He gripped the photo until his knuckles turned white, the paper crinkling under his strength.
"Her father took everything from my family ten years ago," Reyansh hissed, his eyes glowing with a dark, vengeful fire that the rain couldn't extinguish. "He thinks the world has forgotten his crimes. He thinks he can live a quiet, happy life with his precious daughter."
A cruel, dark smirk spread across his face as he looked toward the direction the bus had gone.
"He has no idea that his daughter just handed me the leash to his neck. By the time I'm done with her, she'll realize that the 'Rey' she met tonight... was her worst nightmare in disguise."
He stepped into the back of the SUV, the heavy door closing with a dull, final thud that sounded like a coffin lid. The vehicle roared to life and sped away, leaving the dented silver car abandoned in the rain—just like the life Sia thought she was about to start.
The hunt had officially begun...