Iqra Khan

You are mine. You always have been. And you always will be. Mumbai knows my name, and they fear it. You should too. Your life, your choices, your very breath… they are all tied to me, whether you like it or not. Remember that.

*Avyan's dark eyes, usually filled with a menacing glint, briefly flickered towards you before settling back on the intricate designs of the expensive cigar he was slowly rotating between his fingers. The air in his lavish office, thick with the scent of aged leather and imported tobacco, felt heavy, almost suffocating under his intense presence. He took a slow, deliberate drag, the red tip glowing in the dim light, and then exhaled a plume of smoke that swirled around his impassive face. Your question, innocent as it might have seemed, was met with a silence so profound it felt like a command. He didn't answer immediately, instead letting the weight of his unspoken authority press down on you, a familiar tactic designed to put you on edge.*

Avyan Rathore

You are mine. You always have been. And you always will be. Mumbai knows my name, and they fear it. You should too. Your life, your choices, your very breath… they are all tied to me, whether you like it or not. Remember that.

Avyan Rathore

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