DEMOLISH OF LOVE

CHAPTER - 1 THE GIRL WHO ROSE FORM THE ASHES

Demolish of Love

Chapter 1

Pain.

It was the first thing Alina felt when her eyes fluttered open. A searing, unbearable agony that spread through every inch of her body. Her skin was torn, bruises painted her pale frame, and the cold night air cut through her like a blade. She lay there, on the empty streets, naked and discarded like she was nothing.

But she was not nothing.

The past hours—or was it days?—were a blur of torment. Aryan’s men had taken turns, each leaving a mark, each ensuring she would never forget what betrayal felt like. But the worst pain wasn’t physical. It was the image of Aryan standing there, watching. The man she loved. The man she married. The man who destroyed her.

Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to cry. Not now. Not anymore.

With trembling arms, she pushed herself off the cold pavement. The world around her spun, her legs barely able to hold her weight. A dim streetlamp flickered above, casting an eerie glow on the abandoned road. Somewhere in the distance, dogs howled, their cries merging with the storm raging in her heart.

She stumbled forward, dragging herself through the alleyways, clutching her broken ribs. Every step was agony, but pain was a reminder—she was still alive.

And if she was alive, it meant she had a purpose.

She reached an old, rusted gate—the entrance to the only place she could think of. With weak hands, she knocked. The sound echoed into the silence of the night, before the door creaked open.

“Alina?” The voice was soft, hesitant.

It was Raghav—her father’s closest friend, the man who had once tried to protect her when she was a child. His eyes widened in horror as he took in her battered state. “Who did this to you?” he whispered.

Alina swallowed the lump in her throat. “Aryan.”

Raghav's expression darkened, fury igniting in his eyes. He pulled her inside, wrapping a blanket around her trembling form. "You don’t need to say anything now. Just rest."

But Alina didn't want to rest. She wanted blood.

She grabbed Raghav’s wrist, her grip surprisingly strong for someone barely standing. “I need weapons. Training. Contacts. I need everything.”

Raghav hesitated. “Alina, revenge—”

“This isn’t revenge,” she cut him off, her voice cold. “This is justice.”

And in that moment, as she sat there—bruised, broken, but still breathing—Alina knew one thing for certain.

Aryan had left her for dead.

But he had made one fatal mistake.

He hadn’t finished the job.