~♡ AUTHOR'S POV♡~
A private empire cloaked in shadows.
Hidden deep in the northern wilds of New York State, far from the city’s glare and greed, stood an estate spoken of in corporate war rooms, whispered about in political corridors, and feared in criminal circles Leone di Tenebra.
The Empire of Lion of Darkness.
Surrounded by over 7,000 acres of protected forestland some publicly registered as wildlife corridors, others… quietly hidden through discreet diplomacy and diplomatic immunity Leone di Tenebra was not simply a residence.
It was a command center.
A living fortress. A sovereign territory carved out of silence, blood, and power.
No satellites tracked its perimeter.
No helicopters flew above it.
No GPS ever truly mapped its borders.
And no one entered unless he allowed it.
To the world’s elite, it was a whisper.
To governments, a question mark.
And To syndicates a red flag.
To Kiyansh Singh Rathore throne of his empire.
A seamless blend of Italian villa grace and hyper-modern security, it sat at the center of thousands of acres of secluded land, ringed by intelligent forest surveillance and hidden defense mechanisms very few knew how deeply its roots ran others could only imagine.
Inside, there was no unnecessary opulence.
Only discipline.
Vaulted ceilings soared above polished volcanic rock, lit by carefully positioned ambient lights that cast no harshness.
Paintings weren’t decor they were warnings.
Walls of steel disguised as art.
Hallways long enough to keep secrets in.
Some ended in quiet courtyards.
Others… in command centers, hidden archives, and torture cells masked as wine cellars.
And at its center: his personal sanctum his private wing with extremely high security adorned with
Dark wood, smoked glass, curated silence.
A place where thoughts were sharpened like knives.
But perhaps the most guarded part of Leone di Tenebra was the sanctuary hidden deeper within the estate grounds a heavily protected section of the forest that was never spoken of.
There, two apex predators roamed freely.
No one entered the sanctuary without permission.
Not even the guards.
Only he did at night for midnight walks under blood-moon skies, sometimes barefoot, sometimes in silence, sometimes with rage simmering beneath his breath.
It was there that the lion inside the man roared, quietly, unseen.
He rarely brought anyone to the estate. Those who did step in knew better than to speak of it.
For Leone di Tenebra wasn’t just a name.
It was a warning.
To the world, it was a power nexus.
To Kiyansh Leonora Singh Rathore, it was something far more personal his command center, his fortress, and most of all, his reflection.
And yet, its name held a soft rebellion a whisper of his childhood, of stories told in a honey-smooth Italian accent, of a woman who raised him to be lion-hearted but steel-bound.
Leonora Aryaveer Singh Rathore
The mother he still calls ' Mamma' behind the thick walls and unguarded eyes.
The one who never knelt before danger, who taught him that silence was sometimes louder than rage, the woman who raised him in velvet rage and quiet wisdom was very much alive.
And Kiyansh had inherited her will, her code of silence, and her pride.
He named the estate not as a tribute to loss, but out of reverence.
Not because she was gone but because her strength still lived in every corner of who he had become today hidden under layers of coldness.
That true power doesn’t scream. It watches. It waits. Then it strikes.
He was his mother’s leone.
(Leone is a Italian word for lion)
And Leone di Tenebra was where the lion ruled from silently, powerfully and strategically.
It was a citadel of myth where men were trained to become shadows who couldn't be seen but only felt.
◇◇◇
In the same place entered Kiyansh, freshly back from his office after returning to New York.
The house was quiet, but not empty.
From the kitchen came the familiar clatter of steel vessels, a rhythm he had grown used to.
A woman in her fifties, who had worked there for almost a decade, stepped out and said warmly,
“Sir, should I arrange your food on the table?”
“How many times have I told you, Maushi, not to call me sir? Call me by my name,” replied Kiyansh, his tone light yet carrying a scolding edge.
“Hn, hn, beta… ab kya karun?” she sighed dramatically. “Budhi ho rahi hoon na… toh yaadash kamzor ho rahi hai. Kabhi kabhi bhool jaati hoon.” Her voice was motherly, though it carried the small complaint of age creeping into her life.
(Yes, yes son. I know but what can I do. I'm growing old so loosing my ability to remember things)
“Isliye toh main kehta hoon, kaam chhod ke thoda aaram kijiye. Aur log hain sambhalne ke liye. Par meri sunta kaun hai…” Kiyansh muttered, loosening his watch.
(That’s why I say to leave the work and rest others can manage. But who listens to me)
She smiled, shaking her head. “Arre nahi beta, kaam rehta hai toh mann laga rehta hai. Varna aur main kya karungi is umra mein? Par haan…” she paused, eyes twinkling, “agar tum ek pyari si biwi le aao, toh shayad main tumhari baat maan loon. Bolo, manzoor hai?”
(No beta, work keeps me busy. Otherwise what else will I do but if you bring a sweet little wife for yourself then maybe i will try to slow down. Deal?)
Kiyansh froze mid-step, then turned slowly, giving her a look. “First of all I'm not getting married in this birth and second…” his voice dropped into mock seriousness.
Kiyansh’s lips curved into a half-smile, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “ why will you leave the work then,So that she can take over everything while you sit back? Planning tyranny already, Maushi?”
“Aree no, beta! If you bring a girl, my heart will be at peace. No more worry for you, no need for me to drown in work. And why would I trouble her? Poor thing, anyone who agrees to live with a nakchada, sadiyal, buddhu like you deserves nothing but pampering.” She winked mischievously.
He sighed, shaking his head. “You’ve already started siding with her and she doesn’t even exist yet."
"Of course i will side with my hone Wali beti" she said dreamily.
Kiyansh’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. Not fully. She knew him too well.
"Let’s end this topic. Please serve dinner maushi.” He walked away, his back straight, his voice clipped hiding, as always, what lay beneath.
“Bappa,” she whispered under her breath, her eyes following him with quiet prayer, “ek pyari si ldki bhej dijiye jisse ye chah ke bhi dur na ja pae.”
(Bappa, send him a girl whom he can't walk away from even if he wants)
Her words lingered in the silence. Pyari ladki.
He almost scoffed he didn’t believe in such things. Yet a memory tugged at him, uninvited.
A porch. A trembling woman. Three little girls clinging to her saree.
That had been the first time he saw Janaki.
He had been younger, sharper-edged, just returned from meetings, too busy to care. She had folded her hands and said, “Sahab… mujhe kaam chahiye. Safai, cooking, kuch bhi. Zimmedaari se kaam karoongi. Bas ek mauka de dijiye”
The desperation in her voice had been raw, but the dignity in her eyes struck him harder.
Several houses must have shut their doors on her that day. He could see it in the way her shoulders trembled, but her spine still stayed straight.
“What’s your name?” he had asked.
“Janaki.”
“And theirs?”
She had whispered her daughters’ names, holding them tighter.
Something in him had shifted. He should have dismissed her like the rest coldly, efficiently.
Instead, he had stepped aside and said, “You can start tomorrow.”
Her eyes had widened. “Sachi?”
“I don’t repeat myself.” He had turned away before she could see the softness flicker in his gaze.
From the next morning, she became a part of his house.
A stranger, yet not.
He had never admitted it aloud, but her presence had filled a silence he hadn’t realized was so heavy.
And slowly, Sahab had turned into beta.
Janaki Tai hadn’t always been Maushi. Once, she was just Janaki a newly-wed girl from Pune, married to a promising NRI software engineer through an arranged match.
For twenty years she gave her loyalty, her youth, her strength to that marriage. She bore three daughters, each one carrying her laughter and love. But for her husband’s family, daughters were not blessings
they were failures.
When, even after two decades, she could not give birth to a son, they threw her out. No home. No money. No dignity. Just three little girls clutching her saree. Her own family shut their doors too, as if she carried shame, not blood.
She had wandered house to house, begging for work, rejected everywhere for being 'barely educated or for being a women with three daughters and no male support in her life.'
Kiyansh came back after changing and took his seat at the dining table.
The aroma of the freshly cooked food welcomed him quietly. Janaki Tai was nearby, moving gently between the kitchen and the table, occasionally serving him a little more, adjusting the plate, or refilling his water glass.
He ate in calm silence, aware of her presence but not needing to speak.
Her eyes softened each time she saw him take a bite, a quiet, caring rhythm to her movements that made the house feel warmer.
When he finished, she lingered a moment, before whispering softly, “Goodnight, beta. Mein chlti huin.”
Kiyansh nodded once, leaving the table towards his wing.
The clock struck past midnight when Kiyansh finally stepped out of the estate’s eastern wing.
The storm outside Leone di Tenebra was merciless but nothing compared to the calm terror that lived within.
Moonlight filtering through ancient trees, the breeze rustling through the high canopy of the protected wilderness that surrounded Leone di Tenebra. No guards trailed him tonight.
He didn’t need them.
With slow, silent steps, he walked the familiar path that twisted through stone lanterns, low fog curling around his boots like something alive.
His expression unreadable, a glass of neat whisky in hand, fingers still faintly stained from a meeting that hadn't ended gently earlier.
He wasn’t headed to the war room.
Not tonight.
He was going to see them.
The heavy iron gates opened with the codes only he knew.
Past the final gravel bend, the wilderness opened slightly not into a clearing, but into a sacred circle of shadows.
The silence here was different. Heavy. Watched.
He didn’t flinch when the silence was broken by a low, throaty growl.
“Bagh.”
His voice was calm. Powerful.
Unshaken.
And out came the beast white as snow, massive ,eyes eyes glowing like twin embers with scars that never healed but no longer bled.
He prowled with a king’s grace and a survivor’s rage.
Kiyansh kneeled, inches away from those deadly fangs. The tiger stopped, lowered his head, and pressed his forehead against the man’s.
When Kiyansh sat down on the ground, the tiger leapt into his lap without hesitation, curling around him like an overgrown, affectionate cat. Its growl softened into a rumble, a sound almost like contentment, as if the wildness had melted in his presence.
And then a low growl.
Not a warning. A greeting.
His fur caught streaks of moonlight like silk, his presence enough to shake any man to his knees.
Kiyansh didn’t flinch.
He raised a brow. “Late for patrol, aren’t we?”
A rustle from above signaled the second presence.
Silent as falling ash, Nyx landed behind them obsidian shadow against snow.
The black jaguar moved like poured ink, eyes gleaming with eerie intelligence.
Kiyansh let out a slow breath. “And you as always dramatic.”
She circled him once before settling in the shadows again, ever-watchful.
He moved between them and sat on the low stone bench, sipping from his glass, gaze turned toward the treetops. The memories always crept in here without any permission.
◇◇◇
Flashback I
In Serbia
Bagh wasn’t supposed to exist.
He was born in the belly of a nightmare a secret trafficking ring catering to rich sadists and collectors of the forbidden.
Kiyansh had entered that world as a ghost, a phantom investor with forged bloodline ties and darker intent.
He’d expected greed, cruelty.
But not this.
Inside a rusted cage, limp and gasping, lay a cub. Barely breathing. Bones too sharp under matted white fur. A collar embedded into broken skin.
A Siberian tiger near extinct. To be sold for pit-fights.
"These Fuckers_"
He didn’t finish.
He shot the lock.
Smoke curled around his boots as he carried the cub out, bullets grazing the side of his shoulder, the building erupting behind him. He bled, but kept going.
Inside the chopper, the cub whimpered and licked his wrist once before passing out.
That was the beginning of their journey together.
◇◇◇
Flashback II:
In Amazon Basin
The jungle was merciless that night.
Kiyansh had gone in alone tracking a new smuggling route.
But betrayal came faster than intelligence updates.
Though He was capable to kill hundreds of men singlehandedly but betrayal made him bled into the earth, body riddled, eyes heavy.
He heard the growl and thought it was over.
But instead of death, came silence sudden, brutal.
A jaguar.
Fast. Silent. Savage.
She tore down three armed men before disappearing again. Then returned. Not leaving.
Blood. Screams. Gunpowder.
And Nyx, standing over a fallen body, licking the blood off her paw.
She had chosen him.
He named her Nyx, after the Greek goddess of night. She stayed close from then on untamed, untouchable.
Some say she’s not real.
But they haven’t heard her kill.
◇◇◇
His thoughts broke at the faint growl from Bagh, as if the tiger was tugging at his attention.
Then came their usual banter Bagh and Nyx couldn’t stand each other for even a minute.
When Nyx tried nudging Bagh to leave their father’s lap, Bagh growled in protest, a low, whining sound that said, “Don’t disturb him!”
But when Bagh still didn’t budge, Nyx raised a paw and smacked him sharply across the face before striding away with the grace of the lady panther she was.
A quiet laugh escaped Kiyansh’s lips. Even in their constant bickering, they couldn’t bear to be apart even for a second.
He ran a hand down Bagh’s thick fur, eyes lifting to the treetops where Nyx crouched silently on a high branch. “You both aren’t just my most loyal companions… you’re my children,” he murmured.
The three of them sat in silence as if soacking in the quiet of the night.
No one in the inner circle dared approach this part of the forest. Those who did, never returned.
Bagh rose slowly and stood beside Kiyansh, muscles rippling under white fur.
Nyx remained above, unmoving from her place but her eyes sharp.
A faint smirk touched his lips as he stood. “Let them wonder, who we truly are.” he said softly.
A jaguar leaning against him like a child. A tiger resting its face on his chest. And him eyes closed, arms around them both, as if they were the only things anchoring him to the earth.
He sat in the middle.
A tiger on one side.
A jaguar on the other.
The King, the Storm, and the Night reunited.
Because Bagh and Nyx weren’t just his pets.
They were past and prophecy.
His blood-bound sentinels.
◇◇◇
So how was the chapter??
Whom Did u like more Bagh or nyx?
Loved Kiyansh’s empire? The enigmatic Leone di Tenebra?
Enjoyed reading?
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THANKS FOR READING 📚
YOUR LOVELY AUTHOR ♡KAUSHI♡
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