BOUND TO THE RED EYES ALPHA

Riya Tricked caretaker

Her plan was crystal clear: the next time Kabir showed up, she would play along and act as if she was leaving Devgarh forever. She needed to make him believe she was surrendering, only to catch him off guard.

As dusk settled, Riya patiently waited for nightfall. She unzipped her bags and began packing her clothes, putting on a dramatic show of leaving. Far in the distance, hidden beneath the shadows of the tree line, Kabir's red eyes glinted in the dark—watching her every move.

Riya tricked caretaker.

"I need you to tell me the truth," Riya said, skipping any pretense of small talk. "About the forest. About Kabir. About whatever growled at me yesterday that wasn't an animal anyone around here wants to name."

The caretaker's broom stilled. For a long moment he said nothing, glancing toward the empty street as if checking who might be listening.

"Come inside," he said finally, his voice low.

Once they were seated at the small kitchen table, he poured two cups of tea with hands that weren't quite steady, buying himself time before he spoke.

"I've worked for this town's families for thirty years," he began. "Kabir's family, longest of all. His father before him, and his father before that." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "There are things in Devgarh that outsiders aren't meant to understand. Old things. The forest isn't just trees, Riya. It has... guardians."

"Guardians," Riya repeated flatly. "Like the thing I saw yesterday."

"Like Kabir," the caretaker said quietly.

The words landed strangely, not quite making sense at first. "What do you mean, like Kabir?"

The caretaker hesitated so long Riya thought he might not answer at all. Then he exhaled, as if setting down a weight he'd carried too long. "There are families in these hills who carry something old in their blood. A strength, a connection to the forest that goes back further than anyone can properly explain. Kabir leads them. Protects them. Protects this town, whether the town understands it or not."

"That doesn't explain what I saw," Riya said, though her pulse was already climbing, some instinctive part of her connecting pieces she didn't want connected. "That wasn't a man standing in the trees."

The caretaker met her eyes then, steady and grave. "No. It wasn't."

Riya sat back, the tea forgotten in front of her, her mind racing through every strange moment since she'd arrived — the growls, the town's fear, the way animals went silent whenever Kabir passed, the fever cases clustered suspiciously close to his territory, his warnings that always sounded less like caution and more like a man protecting a secret with everything he had.

"Are you telling me," she said slowly, "that Kabir turns into — what, exactly?"

The caretaker didn't answer directly. Instead, he reached across the table and took her hand, his grip surprisingly firm. "I'm telling you to be careful, and to understand something important. Whatever is happening between you two — and don't think I haven't noticed — it isn't simple. It isn't safe. Not for you, and in some ways, not for him either."

"What does that mean?"

"It means our laws are old, and they're strict, and they don't bend easily for outsiders." He released her hand and sat back, suddenly looking tired in a way he hadn't before. "Kabir is bound by rules you don't understand yet. Rules that exist to protect this town, and his pack, from exactly the kind of attention a curious young woman with a notebook full of questions could bring."

The word pack hit her like a physical thing, confirming what some reckless part of her mind had already guessed and refused to believe.

"I need to speak to him," Riya said, standing abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor.

"Riya—"

"I need the truth, not warnings wrapped in riddles." Her voice shook, but she didn't stop. "If what you're saying is real, then I deserve to hear it from him. Not secondhand. Not in half-sentences."

The caretaker studied her for a long moment, something like reluctant respect crossing his weathered face. "He's at the old watch post above the ridge most evenings. Alone." He paused. "Be careful what you ask for, child. Some truths change everything, once you know them."

Riya was already moving toward the door, her research, her cover story, even Sita Mam's warnings about staying unnoticed all fading into the background of a single, overwhelming need to finally understand the man who had occupied her every waking thought since the moment she'd arrived in Devgarh.

Behind her, the caretaker sat alone at the table, staring into his cooling tea, already dreading what the evening might bring.