♡AUTHOR'S POV♡~
Next day
Leone di Tenebra | Just Before Dawn|
The fog clung to the trees like breath on glass.
A pale silver light washed over the edges of the dense forest as dawn crept in.
Kiyansh stood alone at the cliff edge behind the estate, shirtless in the cold, faint scars glinting under moonlight like inscriptions on stone.
The forest below was silent except for the faint rustle of leaves and the distant splash of a stream.
A white blur padded up beside him.
Bagh.
The Siberian tiger moved like a ghost massive, powerful, but quiet. His fur shimmered in the dim light, eyes glowing with intelligence not quite human... but far too knowing to be just animal.
Kiyansh didn't turn.
Instead, he extended one hand, and Bagh bumped his massive head into it.
From the treetops above, a pair of gleaming eyes watched them.
Nyx.
She didn't leap down, not yet just crouched, her jaguar form blending into the shadows, a black ripple in the night.
"You're late," Kiyansh said softly, without looking.
A low growl rumbled in the trees. Not hostile playful.
Seconds later, Nyx dropped to the ground in a blur and circled both man and tiger once before settling on the other side of him.
Like sentinels.
Bagh chuffed.
"You're always dramatic in the mornings," Kiyansh muttered, rubbing the scarred part of Bagh's shoulder where the old bullet wound never fully healed.
"You talk to them now?" came a voice from behind.
Kiyansh didn't flinch. "They listen more than most humans."
Harshvardhan Kapoor walked up the small stone path, dressed far too elegantly for the hour in a long black coat and crisp shirt, sipping espresso like it was wine.
"Of course they do," he drawled. "You feed them, Kiyansh. That's not loyalty. That's survival instinct."
Kiyansh finally looked at him. "And yet you're still here, years later. Who feeds you?"
Harshvardhan smirked. "Your existential crises. They keep me entertained."
Bagh turned slightly, as if gauging the man beside his master. Nyx didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on Harshvardhan she didn't dislike him, but she didn't entirely trust him either.
"She still hates me," Harshal muttered, nodding toward Nyx.
Kiyansh's voice was low. "She doesn't hate you. She tolerates you. That's the highest compliment she gives."
"Wow," Harshavardhan deadpanned. "Shall I frame it?"
Kiyansh almost smiled.
Almost.
"You could've slept, Harsh" he said, softer now. "I know you didn't."
"You didn't either."
Both men stood in silence for a moment.
"I checked the perimeter. No signs of a second breach," Harshvardhan added. "Your ghost team handled it before anyone else knew."
"Good," Kiyansh murmured. "No one enters Leone without bleeding for it."
"And what happens if someone you care about wants to leave it?"
Kiyansh didn't answer.
He just looked down at Bagh, who licked his palm once and lay down at his feet.
"You'd burn down the world," Harshavardhan said under his breath, "but cage your own heart."
Kiyansh's gaze met his.
This time, the smile was there sharp, cruel, a little tired. "That's why I keep people like you around. To remind me I have one."
Harshvardhan raised his cup. "Touché, your highness."
Bagh let out a soft growl almost like a yawn.
Harshvardhan glanced down at the tiger and muttered, "This one still looks like he could eat me."
"He could," Kiyansh replied, rubbing Bagh's neck gently. "But he won't. Not unless I ask him to."
Nyx prowled up beside him then, brushing lightly against Kiyansh's leg before vanishing into the trees again.
"She's gone," Harshal noted. "She always leaves like that."
Kiyansh didn't move. "She never really leaves."
Harshvardhan nodded. "Just like your ghosts."
Silence again.
But not uncomfortable.
The wind whispered through the trees.
The estate behind them slowly came to life lights flickering on, distant voices beginning the day.
Kiyansh exhaled deeply and glanced sideways. "Let's go. We've got a meeting in two hours."
Harshal groaned. "God help your enemies if you're this active before sunrise."
Kiyansh turned and walked, Bagh following like a silent shadow.
Harshvardhan took one last sip of his espresso, sighed, and followed.
Underneath the stillness of Leone di Tenebra... its heart beat loud and untamed.
Two beasts.
And a man darker than both.
Perimeter Range C, Midnight - Leonore Di Tenebra Private Forest
The wind was still tonight, unnaturally so.
Not even the leaves rustled as shadows cloaked the forest in deathly silence.
Except one a crunch.
Barely audible. But audible enough.
From within the surveillance room of the forest private territory, a faint blip marked a breach. Sector C, outermost ring.
"Intrusion, perimeter C. Movement logged."
The AI voice echoed through the control room.
Harshvardhan, seated in the main station, froze mid-sip of his bitter black coffee.
He flicked the live thermal a silhouette. One person. Moving like a mouse.
"Kiyan he's here."
Outside, the black panther,Nyx, stirred. Her ears perked before the system even pinged.
And Kiyansh Singh Rathore, who had been at the southern edge checking a sensor anomaly, raised his head.
The kind of stillness that settles in an alpha just before he hunts ran down his spine.
He didn't need backup. Not for this.
He gave a single low whistle. Nyx instantly turned and moved into the trees, soundless and lethal.
Kiyansh, without saying a word, vanished into the forest line-blade in one hand, Glock silenced in the other.
Perimeter C - 7 Minutes Later
The intruder thought he had made it in.
Stupid. Arrogant. Armed with cheap thermal jammers and a rugged AK, he kept muttering into his earpiece.
"Clear here. No visuals. I think they're bluff-"
Snap.
A twig. A calculated one.
He spun around. Nothing.
Then-
Growl.
Low. From the shadows behind him. The kind that doesn't come from a dog. Or a wolf.
He turned-and saw eyes. Molten blue. Narrow. Too close. Too calm.
"What the-"
Too late.
A blur of black fur leapt from above. NYX slammed into him, not to kill but to pin. One paw crushed his chest down with brutal force. The man choked, gasping.
Then came the boots.Along with the another sound of paws.
Kiyansh. Along with Bagh moving by his side
Expression unreadable. Blade already blood-tipped from cutting through foliage. Glock aimed but relaxed. Calm. Dead calm.
He crouched beside the intruder. Tilted his head.
"Speak. Or stop breathing."
The man whimpered. Tried to pull out something. Probably a cyanide pill.
Nyx growled louder.
"Didn't say you had that option."
Kiyansh crushed the man's wrist with one clean stomp. Bone cracked like a twig.
The scream never came. Just gurgles. The pain was clean, surgical.
"Who sent you?"
Silence.
He pressed his boot to the man's sternum and applied just enough weight.
"Your ribs will crack next. Maybe puncture your lungs. It's messy. You'll drown in your own blood in less than two minutes."
Harshavardhan's voice buzzed faintly in his earbuds.
"Should I send backup?"
"No."
Kiyansh didn't blink.
The man finally broke. "Par-Parmar! Dev Parmar! They-they told me to scout! Just to find a blind spot in the western patrol line!"
Kiyansh's lips twitched-not a smile.
Not even close.
"You're two miles off that route. You weren't scouting. You were testing me."
He leaned closer. Voice quiet.
"Now, here's the part where you regret breathing."
And then he didn't shoot.
He just looked at Nyx and snapped his fingers once.
The panther moved off the man, slinking back. Not out of mercy but because Kiyansh didn't want blood on Nyx's fur tonight.
Instead, he pulled out his small blade-curved, deadly, antique-and cut a clean symbol on the man's forearm.
The mark of exile.
"Take this message back. Tell Parmar. He did a mistake by trying to test me and my territory."
The man coughed, sobbed, and ran-limping, bleeding, breathless.
---
Control Room - 15 Minutes Later
Harshavardhan looked up as Kiyansh walked in, blade cleaned and glock holstered.
Nyx jumped onto the counter, rubbed his massive head into Kiyansh's chest, and Bagh promptly dropped into his lap like a 70-kg housecat.
Harshavardhan:
"You let him live?"
Kiyansh simply shrugged replying.
"Dead men don't send warnings."
Harshavardhan replied half smirking.
"You could've just mailed them a bullet Kiyansh."
"Where's the fun in that? The fun to let them know their death is chasing them and they can't do anything to escape it." He said with a dark glint in his dark blue molten eyes.
"Sometimes a think you are bloody twisted psychopath with no heart at all" Harshvardhan murmured under his breath.
"And you think you are any different?" He asked raising his brows.
And both of them knew they all were twisted in their own shitty way.
Bhaag growled lightly, annoyed at being squished between Kiyansh's arms and the console table.
Harshavardhan tossed a protein bar. Bhaag caught it midair without blinking.
"Next time, let me come. I wanted to try out my new pulse scanner."
"Next time they send three. You can have two." Kiyansh replied dryly.
After two hours in the meeting room,
The underground hall was dimly lit only the center table glowed beneath a chandelier of cold, white light.
Around it sat men who ruled cities, empires of sin, power, and money. Yet tonight, not one dared to speak above a whisper.
Because he was present.
At the head of the long table sat the man they called Lethal Lion
His face was fully concealed beneath a black half-mask, leaving only his eyes visible those piercing, glacial blue eyes that looked straight through flesh into soul.
A silence hung in the air, the kind that carried the weight of fear.
One of the men finally cleared his throat. “Signore… the proposal from the eastern docks human cargo, discreet routes will triple the profit margins.”
The air stilled.
Kiyansh didn’t move for a long moment. Then, in a voice that was calm yet colder than steel, he said,
“Human trafficking is not business. It is rot. Quardiga doesn’t trade in filth.”
The man hesitated, forcing a weak chuckle. “With due respect, sir, perhaps..”
A single look cut him off.
That look those eyes sharp, murderous, unblinking.
The sound of his voice had not changed, but the silence around it grew violent.
Every man at that table could feel the pulse of death whisper through the air.
Kiyansh leaned back slightly, his gloved hand resting on the arm of his chair.
“Did you just suggest I stain my empire with that kind of filthy buisness again?”
The man swallowed. His breath trembled. “N-no, Signore, I..”
“Good.” Kiyansh’s tone was cold now, but it was that kind of coldness that burned.
He turned his gaze away, and the guards standing in the shadows moved without a word.
The man was gone before his next breath finished.
Kiyansh’s eyes swept across the rest. “You all know my rule. No trade in flesh. No women, no children, no innocents. Quardiga does not let this sin crawl in it's reign.”
A chorus of murmured assent filled the hall “Yes, Signore.” “Understood.”
The meeting shifted.
Proposals for arms deals and the sale of falsified documents were met with a quickness that tasted like precision. Names were dropped. Routes were approved. A shipment in three days would be diverted to a cleaner ledger. A port in Rotterdam would be neutralized. Every decision pried into profit but held to a single, unbending law: no people.
When someone, pushed by old instincts, suggested violent intimidation for a debtor, Kiyansh’s eyes narrowed and the room felt the temperature of triage. “No theatrics. No unnecessary bloodshed. Efficient. Surgical. Clean.” He did not rule out violence; he only curated it like an artisan. “If we take lives, we do so for intent. Not appetite.”
The men took notes. They swallowed. The rules were clear and brutal; obey and prosper, disobey and vanish.
The room went still the moment the growl echoed down the corridor.
It wasn’t loud it didn’t need to be.
Every man at that table froze. The air itself seemed to pause.
Then came the sound of claws against marble. Slow. Heavy. Calculated.
Bagh entered first enormous, white fur catching the dim light, muscles rippling with quiet threat. His amber eyes swept the table, and every head bowed more instantly as if they weren't terrified enough of the person sitting in front of them.Even the bravest among them knew better than to breathe too loudly when that beast walked the floor.
A heartbeat later, Nyx slipped in from the shadows black as the night she ruled, silent, graceful, lethal. Her sleek body moved with the kind of elegance that promised death without sound.
She walked right past the men, brushing lightly against one of them. The man flinched so hard his chair scraped the floor. No one dared look up.
And then as if the two predators needed no command they both stopped beside their father.
Kiyansh didn’t even glance at them; he just finished reading the last line of the document before him. His voice when he finally spoke was calm, resonant, deadly.
“You all know the rules,” he said, sliding the paper aside. “There is no trade in flesh under my command. The next man who even mentions such a deal will disappear before he finishes the sentence.”
A flicker of movement rippled across the room men shifting uncomfortably, swallowing their fear. But no one dared speak.
Bagh let out a low rumble, his tail curling once. Nyx’s ears twitched.
Kiyansh’s lips curved just slightly the faintest trace of amusement, as if he could read their thoughts.
He stood then, unhurried, adjusting his black coat. The silver ring on his finger caught the overhead light, the lion engraved upon it glinting with cold fire.
No one met his eyes.
They all knew better. Those who had once done so never returned the same.
Heads remained bowed, hands pressed together in silent respect or terror.
“Meeting dismissed,” he said quietly.
The words fell like a verdict.
He turned and began to walk, the two beasts falling into step beside him.
Bagh’s heavy stride and Nyx’s silent glide forming a rhythm only the three of them understood.
At the door, he paused. His voice, deep and edged with quiet wrath, cut through the silence once more a final reminder of who ruled the dark.
“Loyalty keeps you breathing. Discipline keeps you alive. Cross either…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. The unfinished threat was louder than any gunshot.
And when the heavy doors closed behind him, every man at that table finally exhaled grateful, terrified, devoted.
Outside, Bagh pressed his massive head against Kiyansh’s hip, a low rumble vibrating in his chest as if asking for the attention he was denied during his father's meeting. Like the dramatic little lion he was.
Nyx’s shadow slid along the wall, brushing her tail against his leg as if agreeing with Bagh on this.
Kiyansh removed one glove, rubbed his fingers once an absent, almost human motion. Beneath the mask, his eyes cooled to a quiet steel.
He spoke softly, to nobody but his two predators.
“We set the terms,” he murmured, almost to himself. “We do not become the monsters we destroy.”
Bagh huffed, Nyx blinked as if they understood.
◇◇◇
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