T/W: This chapter includes themes of violence, aggression, and intense emotional conflict. It contains references to physical harm and control.

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Kiaan

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Darkness stretched out all around me, covering every inch of everything. It might seem that the darkness was of the night, but in reality, the real darkness was emanating from me.

The road ahead was clear, and I could see every soul I had put to sleep forever watching me with bloodied eyes. They had been haunting me for years, waiting to grab just one chance to tear my soul out of me, to make me a part of their clan. But that would not happen. I would never let it happen. Death would never dare to touch me, for I was the beast who drives death and not the other way around. And if, by any chance, I chose death for myself, I would be Lucifer ruling the realm of darkness, tormenting those dead souls I tortured when they were alive.

The beast inside me was not satisfied with the torture I put those souls through. I needed blood as much as a hunter craves his hunt. I could feel my craving growing, the thrill fading, so I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, just like I had always imagined strangling the slender neck of a certain someone. Holding the steering wheel was like putting a leash on the beast inside me, who was now in his full glory and savoring his moment of contentment. I pressed my foot on the gas pedal. I could feel the surge of power in my veins, like an electric current flowing. The engine of my McLaren 720S roared like its name, DEATH. I named my car DEATH for obvious reasons—its nature is to kill. It's taken more than a dozen lives and tasted blood, so now it hungers for killing just as much as the beast in me craves the hunt.

My ride sped up so quickly that if anything was visible, it was only the flashes. They weren't the flashes of the past that had been haunting me; they were of somebody who had invaded my life, against my will. Not only my life, but my territory had been infiltrated, and the beast in me was challenged.

The wind touching me whispered my next sins, reminding me of the diabolical schemes I had planned for my personal intruder. The beast inside me was thrilled, not only with the blood and flesh I was scattering but also with the nefarious plan in the making.

The headlights paved a clear path for me, though it was still somewhat blurry. The only sounds I could hear were the wind, the sound of DEATH I was riding, and the dark side of me — my inner beast, whose wicked thoughts were now blending with my own evil ideas.

Sometimes I would forget that I was a man. Years of feeding the beast inside me had made me its nurturer. And who was this beast? No one but me. The evil, dark force that wanted nothing but destruction. I should have been killed when there was a choice, but none dared to do the deed.

FUCKING COWARDS.

Everyone left me to tend to my wounds, keeping me alive in hopes they would be shown mercy when the time came.

But I didn't lick my wounds like they assumed I would. Instead, I fed the blood to the dark entities that whispered in the shadows, offering them my pain in exchange for power. And with each drop that spilled from my body, each wound left for the darkness, I was twisted into something unrecognizable—a beast who feeds on chaos and ruination.

While the beast was having the time of his life, feeding on every bite of darkness around, the gigantic gate suddenly came into view. My destination was there, and the cliff was just a few miles away. I did not stop the vehicle. I let myself drive to the edge of the cliff, playing with death—the real one, like every night when I would be on the hunt, mocking death as I always do. As I reached closer to the edge, I applied the brakes with the clear idea that my car would not fall. There was not going to be a single scratch on me. This was not my confidence, but I had witnessed death never touching me, avoiding me. I had noticed its fear of taking my life, a beast's life. My car skidded forward, stopping at the edge as usual, leaving me unscathed. Once again, I won, and death lost.

Me: 3600
Death: 0

Pushing the door open, I stepped out. The thrill from before faded away, my contentment slipping, and in its place, the craving began to take over again. Earlier, this adventure used to be enough. But ever since the intruder—whose breathing infuriates me, whose existence troubles me, whose pulse invites me to tame them—this thrill is no longer enough. I needed more to quench my thirst, something darker, something to feed the hunger that never fades.

As I closed the door, I noticed Enzo's car coming in my direction. I walked to the back of my car to examine the art of my night, to check if the body tied to the tow hook was bloodied enough. Sadly, there wasn't much blood on the tied body. But his body was scraped, like his integrity, his face was unrecognizable from being dragged for miles, just like his soul, and his flesh tore apart, just like his morals were torn. This was the hunt that used to satisfy me earlier, but now things had changed. I hate change. I loathe it, and mostly, I hate the cause behind it.

"Everything will be under control." Enzo was now standing a few meters away, eyeing my dead prey of the night. I didn't like how he used "will" instead of "is." I don't spare space for any doubt or uncertainty. Control is another source of my power. I never allow a single mistake, so that "will" didn't sit well with me.

"I don't spare mistakes, Enzo." He knew it, yet he needed to be reminded.

"Everything is done just like how you wanted." I nodded, letting him start his work.

Before Enzo, I used to do everything myself, but ever since him, he was the one cleaning up my messes. I love the mess, though, which I create, while he thrives on clearing it for me. Moreover, I could not waste my time clearing the messes when I had to create ruckus into my intruder's life who was my permanent prey.

Enzo began working on pulling the torn body of the asshole who dared to hurt the sinner, my culprit. I was the only one with the right to hurt her, and no one should even think of looking her way—or I'd tear their eyes out.

As Enzo pulled whatever body parts were left of the dead Byrol Paine, the man who was not my target for the night, the earlier rage hit me with force. All of a sudden, I recalled how he went after my sinner and the audacity of him to touch her. I was glad I had already cut off his hand before tying his body to my car; otherwise, I would have crushed that hand again and hung it at the top of The Tower Bridge as a warning to anyone in the world who dared to even think about her.

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FLASHBACK [Two Nights Ago]

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The masquerade ball I threw was a camouflage. It was my way of creating a distraction for the others while I attacked my next target. I was not someone who loved people around him, yet pretended otherwise. I hated people, to be honest. I hated how they talked, how they breathed; everything about others' existence was a bother to me. Being around so many people suffocates me. But sometimes there is a need for disguise, a need to act when the real you is different. I was somebody born with a golden spoon and had to show the world the same. Not everybody needed to know it was not long after my birth that the golden spoon was snatched from me and I was given a charred spoon. The world might think I always lived a life of privilege and fortune, but the truth of my life, touched by darkness and destruction, and that I fed on it now, was veiled from everyone. The truth scares the people around you. Nobody in this world loves honesty, rather a honeyed lie that serves them well. The world was filled with all kinds of hypocrites, and it was better the beast I was should be hidden from them. And for my sake, I became a hypocrite too, hiding my beast inside of me, letting him prepare for the attacks he lusted for and for all the hunting. For a long time, I had been targeting the pawns, the lowest rank holders in chess, the weakest players, according to everyone. However, in my opinion, for an opponent, a pawn is no less than a rook. Not everyone would agree with me, but I consider them the soul of chess.

I like knowing my opponent beforehand, but I love when there is an unknown opponent. The thrill of the unknown is scary, but it feeds my beast with unimaginable power and excitement. Opponents could be unidentified or mysterious, but what does one do with an unknown chess piece on the board? Is it a pawn or a rook, a knight or the king of the other side? You don't know what the piece signifies because that piece is in the metamorphosis phase of becoming a piece on the board, maybe on your side or on your opponent's. However, this one piece is too stubborn to leave the board until it transforms. It barged in and wanted to stay.

As I stared at my laptop screen, sitting back on my lounge chair in my room, the unknown chess piece—let's call it a pawn for now—moved on the screen, walking towards the hallways that led to the room I was in.

In a few seconds, I could hear my pawn's voice. I could see her on my screen, and I hate when somebody interrupts the game. Enzo works for me, but sometimes agitates me to the core. I did not like how close he was to her. He was supposed to stay far away from her; everyone was supposed to stay feet apart from her except for me.

I got up and walked to her with leisurely calculated steps. Her body, which was flexible earlier, was now stiff. She knew Enzo was not alone. She knew there was a presence behind her, up close, really, really close. I could grab her so easily and she would get no chance to struggle. All I had to do was reach out, pull her to me and put pressure around her throat, stopping her oxygen flow. I could feel the beast getting excited about the plan. But I will get time for that later. Right now, she needed to leave the party she wasn't invited to. I could feel her desperation to escape and she would, not because she wanted to, but only because I would allow it. I was going to let her go, temporarily. I was so close that I could hear her erratic heartbeats. She did not know sign language yet used her hands to lie. Not sure what she wanted to reply to Enzo because the signs she made from her hands riled me up. She had a way of getting under my skin and that one move did just that. She was not supposed to make that sign in front of Enzo, whose face was all red and flustered now. That was the exact moment when my cousin Dhriti arrived, looking for me.

"Here you are," I heard Dhriti. As soon as she heard her too, she used that as an opportunity and fled, knowing well I was not going to follow her or stop her. She thought she could fool the one whose game she stepped in. Too bad that she was clueless that I was behind the steering wheel, and she was stuck in the passenger seat with no way out.

"Who was she?" Dhriti asked, but I kept staring in the direction of the hallway she vanished into. I wanted her to be submerged in darkness, just like I lived in it.

"Don't know," Enzo replied.

I knew who she was. My Pawn. My Sinner.

There was not one inch of darkness that would ever hide her from me. I breathe darkness and let it flow through my veins, and she thought it would help her instead of backing me.

Naïve.

She was not supposed to be there. Even after multiple warnings, she kept treading my path. She needed to learn some lessons, and I would make sure she learned everything taught to her, word by word. If needed, I would carve those into her skin and, most importantly, her soul.

I needed to confirm if she went to the backside door, so I headed back to the room followed by Dhriti. While Enzo left for the security check, I ordered him to do at the main entrance.

"It's your party and you are not out there," Dhriti nagged. She was a people's person, while the same could not be said about me. The only reason I keep wearing a facade in front of my family is because of her. I did not want her to get hurt; the rest of the world could go fuck themselves. Even my parents did not deserve an ounce of my respect and concern, but I have to act only for Dhriti's sake.

"People's presence and pleasure doesn't drive me, D.K." I called her by the nickname she dislikes teasing her and took my previous spot on the lounge chair. I could see my pawn rushing to the backside on my screen. The more she hurried there, the more she drowned in the darkness.

"Don't call me that and stop playing riddles with me." She took a seat opposite me. Even if my eyes were watching somebody else on the screen, I could tell Dhriti was staring at me with expectant eyes.

"Where is your obsessive husband?" Only Namit Khanna, my friend and her husband, could distract my sister. I was glad she ended up with him. If anyone could handle my sister well and take care of her and treat her like she deserved, it was him.

The pawn walked out of the backdoor, and I could feel the tick of anger inside of me. She did not know how to stop, and I felt the urge to put a leash around her neck. My insides itched for me to drag her to my court of justice right there and then, to regulate her pulse at my own will, to tear her soul out and then put it back for her to know how it feels.

"He is not obsessive." Dhriti shut my laptop to gain my focus entirely. I sat back comfortably when the beast inside of me was unleashed and triggered. If it were anyone else, I would have acted differently, maybe would have killed them, but for my sister, I was a different man—a man the world didn't deserve, only her.

"He is obsessive, D.K. In fact, he will be here in five seconds..."

I knew Namit never let Dhriti stay out of his sight for long. She was already with me for a few minutes, and I knew in no more than five seconds he would come to find her. Besides, I could only wait for five seconds before I caught up to my sinner. Five seconds was the time she could mess up as much as she wanted because then I would charge.

"No, that's not how he operates. He can...." Before Dhriti could refute my claim, Namit entered the room.

"Sama, I have been looking for you."

"He is here in two." I gave a sneer to my sister while she huffed like a child.

"What's wrong?" Namit asked, staring at us both.

"Nothing, just Kina being a petty idiot." She teased me with the nickname I disliked. But the truth was, I liked the nickname. I liked everything my sister did. I just pretended otherwise so that she would not stop ever.

"You are easily worked up these days. You're fine, right?" Namit looked concerned, causing me to analyze the situation to see if she was actually fine.

"Of course I am," she replied instantly and got up. My sister never replies instantly, not even when she is planning to prank anyone. She was not fine, and by the way Namit assessed her, I knew he had realized it too. But he said nothing, for her sake. Though I knew he would find out sooner and get rid of every issue or any scum troubling her. Besides, I would not sit idle too.

"Come on, our friends have arrived and are looking for you. Let's go." She held his hand, ready to flee. Namit turned to me and said, "Join us, man. It's your party, after all."

I nodded simply, and they left. Once they were gone, I got up too and called Enzo.

"Dhriti is not fine," I said as soon as he picked the call.

"You will get the update tomorrow morning," he responded. As soon as I hung up the call, I did not wait a second before I grabbed my mask for the ball from the table and headed to the hallways. I was about to change the target for the night. The pawn had already messed up my game, and I had to take the soul of a knight when I had planned to kill a rook instead.

It was time for my hunt.

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The flash of the events from two nights ago was over, but the anger inside me had grown stronger, in a way I couldn't explain. It was time for someone to learn the first lesson of the many I had been preparing for her. She broke me once, and how could I not pay her back?

It was time to use the golden leash I had made just for her, to drag her into my darkness forever.