The humid air hung heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and the exotic perfume of unseen blossoms. The sounds of the jungle—the incessant drone of cicadas, the rustling of leaves, the distant howl of a lone animal—were a constant, unnerving soundtrack to the scene unfolding in the secluded clearing.

Laila, exiled from the haveli and consumed by a desperate, twisted need for revenge, had found herself in a nightmare of her own making. Vikram, driven by his own ruthless ambitions and a potent cocktail of greed and desire, had orchestrated this trip to the edge of the jungle, a remote location far from prying eyes.