Chapter 60 :

Kaaryaksh's POV

"Are you a mafia?" she asked softly, her lips still glistening from our kiss.

For a heartbeat, silence wrapped around us like smoke-thick, suffocating, unbroken. Our eyes clashed and held, locked in a tension that neither of us seemed willing to sever.

"What do you think?" I countered, my tone deliberate, my voice low enough.

"I think you are," she said after a pause, narrowing her eyes as though she were trying to read through me, peel back layers I'd spent years building. "Because you get away with illegal things so easily. But sometimes... sometimes I don't think so. Because I never really saw you in that way." She shook her head slightly, lips pressing together before parting again. "I don't know... I'm confused."

A whisper of a smile curved my lips.

"I'm not," I said simply.

Her voice sharpened. "Why? And how?"

I pulled her closer, dragging her body until it fused against mine-skin to skin through layers of cloth, heat passing between us. My mouth lingered dangerously close to hers, hovering, waiting, feeding on the nervous stiffness that coiled through her body.

I liked it.

"You see," I murmured, my breath brushing her lips, "mafias stain their hands with blood. They sin without hesitation, kill without guilt. And then comes the part where they must scrub their hands clean-pretend innocence, erase the evidence before it stains too deep."

"And that's where you come in," she cut across me, her voice trembling but her curiosity unrelenting. Her head tilted back, eyes widening in shock-or maybe awe.

I smirked.

Her mouth hung slightly open, her disbelief unmasked. She was still wrestling with what I had confessed in the art gallery that day. Now, with this revelation layered upon it, her world tilted further off balance.

"What are you, Aksh?" she whispered, almost as though she feared the answer.

A dark chuckle rumbled low in my chest. "Whatever you like to believe."

Her eyes narrowed, glittering with curiosity and something else-fear, perhaps. "How powerful are you?"

"However much you think," I replied, dismissive but intentional, my words dripping with ambiguity.

"You aren't a mafia. But you do illegal things. Then how aren't you caught? Won't they betray you? Expose you?"

One brow arched slowly. I let her drown in her own assumptions before I said, with deliberate calm, "What did I do?"

Her voice faltered. "You... kill people."

My gaze sharpened, piercing. "When did you see me killing?"

"Uh-I-"

"You didn't," I said, my tone slicing through her hesitation. "I never kill. They come to me-powerful men, clever men, all of them begging for me to wash away their sins. And in return, I use them. I make them erase whoever I decide must vanish."

It wasn't a lie.

My hands never carried blood. My soul, yes. My conscience, perhaps. But my skin? Clean. Always clean. They carried out the slaughter while I remained untouchable, an emperor whose throne stood above the filth.

"So if I put you in a position..." she whispered, moving back slightly, her lips parting in disbelief, "you'll basically sit at the top."

Her voice cracked. "What are you even, Kaaryaksh? Who are you?"

I didn't answer. I only smiled.

And that smile-it was my answer. It was the man I had carved myself into, stone by stone, wound by wound.

Her breath hitched. "I-I can't with this. You hold too much power in the shadowy world, Kaaryaksh. I can't live with you like this."

Before the words could fully register, I had her pinned against the wall, her back colliding softly with the framed paintings. My hand trapped her, my body caging her in.

I could endure betrayal. I could endure enemies. I could even endure death.

But not her leaving.

She had walked willingly into my shadows. And once she was mine, there was no escape. I didn't know any personal space or something when it came to her.

She is mine.

"Think before you speak, love," I muttered against her lips, my eyes boring into hers with feral intensity.

Only she could ignite this side of me. Only she could see the rage that burned in my veins-because the rest of the world only ever knew my cold cruelty.

"You're mine," I ground out, my jaw tightening, every muscle in my body straining against the force of my fury. "And even in your dreams, you've admitted that, haven't you?"

I hated it. I hated how addicted I was to her. How utterly she consumed me.

But the thought of letting go? Impossible.

Yes-this addiction could destroy me. But I would protect her from the flames, even if I burned alive.

For a moment, she just stared at me with wide eyes. Maybe terrified at the way the calm between us changed into my possessiveness and obsession. Or maybe just blank.

Slowly, her palms rose, cupping my face with a softness that cleaved through me like a blade. Her eyes now softened, breaking past the fire still raging in mine. And something in me cracked open.

She knew that she could destroy me.

Softness was never my thing. Until she came with its fierce version and tilted my everything upside down. And I didn't even get furious this time.

I just let her.

Because not everyone dared and could be in my mind and soul. No one.

But she dared. And she stayed. Unknowingly. But fearlessly.

"I won't destroy you," she murmured, her forehead lowering to rest against mine.

"I won't leave you like them. I'll stand beside you-always."

Her vow lodged in my throat like a stone, threatening to choke me.

"But I want something from you," she whispered.

"Name it."

"Give up on all this," she said.

The words struck harder than any bullet could. I didn't say anything for a moment.

Just stared into her eyes. Let her words sink in.

Then I stepped back instinctively, as though her touch had scorched me, our bodies separating. Guilt-or regret-flickered across her face instantly.

She had asked for the one thing I could never imagine surrendering.

This wasn't just a career. It wasn't even just power. It was my entire existence. My life's marrow. My shield against the world. To abandon it would be to cut out my own heart.

But hadn't I always known this moment would come?

She belonged to light. No matter how deeply she had embraced my shadows, she was still purity incarnate-untainted, uncorrupted. She would always ask me to sacrifice.

"This isn't easy, Anvaya," I breathed, my chest tightening as words spilled I was never meant to confess. I hated the bitterness that rested on my tongue.

"I fought for this-every scar, every betrayal, every night I clawed my way out of nothing-just to be who I am. To stand where no one can order me, no one can rule me."

My voice deepened slightly. "This sacrifice... it won't be easy."

She stepped forward then, her hand pressing against my chest, over my heart.

"This heart knows," she whispered, eyes never leaving mine, "how much you've endured. That boy-the one who wanted to dance and paint-he was forced into cruelty. It wasn't his fault. The world, his own people, turned him into this."

"You're doing something that you went through." She looked into my eyes, mirroring every scar and flaw I tried to hide within myself. I knew I was always ignoring the reality and now that she stood in front of me facing it to me, I couldn't look straight. I didn't have the courage to see who I'd become. Because I knew at a point, I was doing the same as my parents.

"Just like Viola and your parents controlled you-not because they were strong, but because it made them feel powerful and helped them hide how weak they really were," she said quietly.

"And somewhere along the way, you started doing the same thing, pulling at people's weaknesses like puppet strings just to keep your own nightmares away." She lifted her hands and gently cupped my cheeks, forcing me to look at her.

"But that's exactly how they became who they are," she continued softly. "And I don't want you to end up like them. If you lose yourself and become just like them, then there won't be any difference between you and the people who hurt you in the first place."

Her words tore through me.

"I know it won't be easy. But if we marry, I don't want our children to grow up seeing this. I want them to see a father who builds-not one who destroys." Her sigh was soft, fragile. "Keep your empire. Keep your power. But stop controlling. Please. Use it for something... good."

I frowned. "Good?"

She nodded, firm.

"You'll marry me?" I asked, my voice a mixture of disbelief and need.

She smiled. "I will."

"You'll be the mother of my children?"

"I will."

Her brows drew together suddenly. "Wait-you only caught the marriage and children part? You didn't hear what I said after?"

A low laugh rumbled from me, breaking the tension. "I did. I was just getting on your nerves."

And for the first time in too long, we both laughed. Together.

Maybe she was right. Maybe giving up some of my sins wasn't impossible-not with her by my side.

Even though, things were never like what she had seen. Or shown.

I grabbed her hand, yanking her toward me before lifting her effortlessly, making her legs wrap around my waist. She gasped, clinging to me, surprise flickering in her eyes.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"You've made me desperate enough in this shirt and those black panties," I murmured, my lips ghosting hers, my voice low and dangerous. "Now you'll pay for it."

Her gasp was stolen as my mouth devoured hers.

I was too far gone. Addicted.

My empire was everything. My power was my soul.

But she-she was beyond comparison.

More than an empire. More than power. More than life.

She was my only sweet sin.

A sin too venomous if handled carelessly. But when you taste it, you lose senses of the reality and all you'd want is to keep tasting it.

She is my Sugar of Lead-an exquisite, toxic sweetness that I swallow willingly, knowing every drop paralyzes my mind and edges me closer to a beautiful decay.