Priya’s hand hovered inches from Saatvik’s heavy wooden door. Her knuckles were white from tension, but she didn't knock. The raw, animalistic sounds from Shashwat's wing had stopped, replaced by a chilling silence that suggested both men were now at rest, leaving her to face the aftermath alone.

She inhaled sharply, the cool night air doing little to calm the frantic beating of her heart. Her body still throbbed from the brutal encounter with Saatvik, a physical memory that was both a source of shame and a perverse comfort.