The Hunt Begins
667 Words
The sky over Silverwood was painted with storm clouds again — grey, angry, and heavy with rain.
It had been two days since Aanya Kapoor disappeared.
Two days since Rudra Mehra’s world went silent.
That morning, Aanya had been walking toward the café near her house a short walk, routine, harmless.
But Raghav’s men were waiting.
A black van stopped beside her; before she could react, a hand covered her mouth, a cloth pressed against her face.
Her bag dropped on the road.
The van door slammed shut — and she was gone.
Raghav had waited months for this moment — to get back at Rudra, to make him feel the loss, to break his pride by hurting the one person who had made him soft.
That evening, just as Rudra was about to start his bike, he heard someone call out his name.
He turned — and saw Ishan Kapoor, Aanya’s younger brother, running toward him.
Tears streamed down the boy’s face.
Without a word, Ishan threw himself into Rudra’s arms, shaking.
Ishan (sobbing): “Please, bhai… bring back my sister. Please bring Aanya back.”
Rudra froze for a second — then placed his hand firmly on Ishan’s shoulder.
Rudra (low, steady): “I’ll bring her home, Ishan. I promise.”
And as the boy cried against him, Rudra’s heart hardened — not out of hate, but out of resolve.
Because this wasn’t just about revenge anymore.
This was personal.
Two Days Later
Two days.
Two sleepless nights.
And still no sign of her.
But Rudra wasn’t the kind of man to sit still.
He and his friends — Dev, Aman, and Kabir — had turned the city inside out.
Every alley, every warehouse, every contact.
No rest. No fear. No mercy.
Kabir: “Bro, I checked the docks. Nothing.”
Aman: “His men are hiding. Even the street rats are scared to talk.”
Dev: “We’ll find them. They can’t hide forever.”
Rudra’s eyes were bloodshot, but focused — a predator tracking his prey.
He slammed his fist against the wall, voice sharp:
Rudra: “He touched her. He dared. And now I’ll show him what fear really means.”
Somewhere on the city’s edge, Aanya sat in a dark warehouse, bruised and bleeding — her wrists tied, her lip split.
Raghav stood in front of her, smiling cruelly.
Raghav: “So, still think you’re his queen? Still think your Rudra will save you?”
Aanya lifted her head slowly.
Her voice was weak, but her eyes — those eyes still burned with fire.
Aanya: “You can hit me. You can lock me up. But you’ll never break me.”
Raghav’s smile faded.
Aanya (gritting her teeth): “Because Rudra Mehra doesn’t lose the people he loves. You made the biggest mistake of your life.”
He struck her again — hard.
But even as her head jerked back, she whispered through her pain —
Aanya: “He’s coming.”
And in the distance, as if fate was listening, Rudra’s bike roared through the rain.
Back at his den, Rudra spread a map of the city on the table.
Pins, circles, markings — his mind worked faster than the clock.
> Dev: “Boss, this new lead says Raghav’s been moving stuff near the old textile mill — outskirts.”
Rudra (coldly): “Then that’s where he dies.”
Kabir swallowed.
Kabir: “We’re going with you.”
Rudra looked up, his expression unreadable but his voice fierce.
Rudra: “We go tonight. No police. No noise. Just us.”
He picked up his leather jacket, the same one Aanya had once teased him about and whispered under his breath,
Rudra: “Hold on, Aanya… your hero’s coming.”
That night, thunder cracked over the city as Rudra’s gang prepared for war
and somewhere, in the darkness, Aanya Kapoor held onto one thing that kept her alive:
hope.
Because she knew if anyone could find her…
it was Rudra Mehra.
- Writer
