Devil's jaan [1]
Screams echoed in the background — gut-wrenching, pain-laced cries.
In the dim-lit basement, a man — no, not a man… a devil — was mercilessly torturing someone.
That someone was once his most trusted right hand.
Now? Just another traitor who dared to sell his loyalty for money and fame — and worst of all, shook hands with his enemy.
Rajwansh Rathore. A name that struck fear in every heart.
And if there were two things he despised the most — they were lies and betrayal.
“You worked for me for years… and still don’t know?” he said with a cold smirk.
“I don't spare the ones who lie and betray me. Now face the consequences, Mr. Yudhir Chauhan... for your little stunt.”
He tilted his head slightly — a silent cue. His men understood.
Without another word, Rajwansh turned and walked out of the basement, leaving behind the sound of screams that soon blended with silence.
As soon as he stepped out, his phone buzzed.
The screen lit up with a name that softened his entire demeanor:
Meher. His wife. His love. His jaan.
The only softness he allowed in his otherwise brutal world.
He picked up instantly.
“Oh jaan… you’ve no idea how much I missed you,” he said in a teasing voice, that devilish smirk returning.
“I swear, I feel like leaving everything behind and running into your arms right now. Should I come?”
She blushed over the phone.
“It’s only been a few hours since you left and you’re already talking like this.”
“Hours feel like hell without you,” he murmured. “Tell you what—why don’t you come here instead?”
“Ugh, aap bhi na… If I come there, will you even focus on work?” she teased, chuckling.
“Fair point,” he laughed.
“How can a man focus when an apsara like you is sitting right in front of him? His attention would definitely… wander elsewhere.”
Just then, one of his men interrupted, whispering,
“Sir… he’s dead.”
Rajwansh’s eyes narrowed. A cold smirk touched his lips — mission accomplished.
But that smirk faded almost instantly as realization struck him.
He had just ended a man’s life…
And moments before, he was whispering sweet nothings to his jaan —
A woman who once cried for hours over the death of a mosquito.
What would happen…
…if she ever found out the kind of man he really was?
