Love in the air by Vatsal Bhargava - HTML preview

CHAPTER 27 – DEATH BEFORE DISHONNOUR

The night reeked of betrayal. Gunmetal skies stretched endlessly above the cabin as Meera and Aarav stood back-to-back, weapons drawn. Every rustle in the trees, every whisper of wind, sounded like a death sentence waiting to be delivered. There were no more warnings. No more second chances. Tonight, it was kill or be killed.

Earlier.

The betrayal came from someone they never expected.

Ria — Meera’s best friend. The girl who knew all her fears, her dreams… her secrets.

Ria had smiled sweetly, hugged Meera tightly, and then sold her to the highest bidder.

Inside the burning cabin, Aarav’s jaw clenched as he watched Meera’s face shatter.

“I’ll gut her myself,” Meera spat, loading a fresh clip into her gun. There was no softness left in her. No tears.

Only fire.

Only fury.

And Aarav… he loved her even more for it.

His beautiful warrior queen. His angel made of blood and steel.

The plan was simple: No prisoners. Meera and Aarav locked eyes. Unspoken words passing between them. If they were going down, they were taking every traitor with them. Together.

Or not at all.

They moved like a storm through the woods — silent, deadly. Aarav took out the first two attackers with brutal efficiency — one bullet through the eye, one knife to the throat. Meera, her heart a cold drum inside her chest, didn’t even flinch as blood splattered her skin.

She wasn’t the same girl who chased dreams in the skies.

She was something darker now. Something unstoppable.

When they cornered Ria by the riverbank, the moon caught the glint of the gun in her hand.

"You don’t understand, Meera!" Ria sobbed.

"I had no choice! They would have killed me!"

Meera’s laughter was hollow, broken. "And you thought selling me out would save you?"

Aarav’s hand tightened on Meera’s arm. He could see it — the urge to kill, the heartbreak battling inside her. "Let me," he said, voice lethal. But Meera stepped forward. This was her ghost to bury.

"You taught me once, Ria," Meera whispered, pressing the gun against her former best friend's forehead, "that survival has a cost." Her finger squeezed the trigger. A single, brutal shot echoed through the valley.

The cost had been paid. In full.

Back at the smoldering remains of the cabin, Meera fell to her knees, blood and ash streaking her skin. Her shoulders shook — but not from weakness.

From release.

From the death of whatever innocence she had left.

Aarav knelt in front of her, cupping her face with bloodied hands. Their eyes locked — a battlefield of pain and promise.

"No matter how much blood stains us," he murmured,

"I will never leave you."

"Even if I become a monster?" she whispered.

He kissed her then — brutal, deep, claiming every broken piece of her. "Especially then," he breathed against her lips.

"Because monsters don’t fear monsters."

The night swallowed them whole. And somewhere between death and survival, between shattered loyalty and reckless devotion,

Meera and Aarav made a silent vow: Death before dishonor. Love before freedom. Blood before betrayal.