The palace was quiet, but the air in Veeresh’s study burned with rage. A glass of whiskey trembled in his hand, the amber liquid sloshing over the sides as he stared blankly at the floor.

The doors opened softly. His parents stepped inside, concern etched across their faces.

“Veeresh…” Sharada began gently, “where is she?”

Veeresh’s gaze snapped up, eyes sharp, voice laced with steel. “Where is she?”

Sharada’s expression hardened. “You have no right to ask that.”

Without another word, she and Abhimanyu turned and left, leaving Veeresh alone with the echo of his own frustration.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. “Rayan, trace her number. Now.”

Within moments, the location pinged. Veeresh’s jaw tightened. Without waiting for anyone, he strode out, sleek black coat flaring behind him, and drove straight to her house.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t wait. The moment the door opened, he pulled her toward him. Poornima gasped, trying to step back, but he held her firm.

Then, before she could speak, Veeresh kissed her—deep, passionate, a claim that stole her breath and left her trembling in his arms. His hands held her as if letting go was impossible.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his eyes dark, his voice low and commanding, he said, “Do you think I will leave you? That I can? You are mine, Poornima.”

Poornima struggled, shaking her head. “Leave me, Veeresh! Please… I am not royal blood!”

Veeresh tightened his hold, his forehead resting briefly against hers. “I will never leave you. Never. You are not defined by blood, Poornima. You are defined by me. And I can’t—won’t—let you go.”

Tears burned her eyes, her chest heaving with conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to resist, to scream, to push him away. But another part—the part that had feared, longed, and quietly waited—felt something shift in the depths of her heart.

She whispered, trembling, “I… I don’t know if I can…”

Veeresh’s voice was gentle now, almost a caress against her panic. “Then let me carry you through it. I don’t care about status, about pride. You are mine, and I will fight for you, even if you fight me every step of the way.”

Poornima’s sobs shook her shoulders, but she stayed in his arms, the world outside ceasing to exist. For the first time, the storm between them felt alive, raw, and unstoppable.