꧁༒༻༺༒꧂꧁༒༻༺༒꧂
༺༻Chapter 5: Scars༺༻
꧁༒༻༺༒꧂꧁༒༻༺༒꧂
The morning sun was just beginning to burn away the early mist when Priya received the news—a Russian man had taken Kalu.
Her blood ran cold. The last time someone had taken Kalu, it had nearly cost her her life. Without a second thought, she grabbed her police jacket, shoved her feet into her boots, and stormed out, her mind running wild with worst-case scenarios.
The mansion was an architectural masterpiece, a blend of Western luxury and understated elegance. It stood tall and intimidating, its gates guarded by men in suits. Priya barely acknowledged them as she marched inside, her fury a living, breathing thing.
She found him in the opulent living room, dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves lazily rolled up to his elbows. He sat on a leather armchair, reading a newspaper as if he owned the world.
"You!"
Zayne barely had time to glance up before Priya stormed toward him, fire in her eyes. She pointed an accusing finger at him, her breath coming in harsh pants.
"You took Kalu!"
The accusation hung thick in the air. Even before she finished speaking, a blur of fur bolted toward her. Kalu barked excitedly, his tail wagging furiously. Priya knelt, scooping him into her arms, relief flooding her veins.
Zayne set his newspaper aside, standing up slowly. His sharp, aristocratic features showed mild surprise, but there was no guilt in his expression.
"Priya..." His voice was calm, a stark contrast to her rage. "Kalu was hungry and alone."
She held the trembling dog closer to her chest, her anger momentarily giving way to concern. Then, her rage reignited.
"So you steal dogs now?" she snapped, her voice laced with accusation. "God knows what you do to them!" She pulled Kalu protectively against her, her mind swirling with horrifying thoughts. "Maybe you sell them? Or eat them?"
At her absurd accusation, Zayne's lips twitched, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Eat them?" He took a step closer, voice rich with sarcasm. "Really, Priya? That's your theory?"
She ignored him, hugging Kalu as if the dog would vanish again.
Kalu, however, wagged his tail happily, completely unfazed by her fury. When she looked into his small brown eyes, he shook his head, as if answering her unspoken question.
"Thank God," she murmured, her heartbeat slowing.
Zayne folded his arms, watching her with an unreadable expression. "In fact..." he paused, letting his words sink in. "He's been fed, bathed, and given a bed more comfortable than my own." He smirked slightly. "I might be Russian, but I don't harm dogs, Priya."
Her anger dimmed, replaced by the sting of guilt. She had judged too quickly. "Sorry," she muttered, not meeting his gaze.
His sharp features softened into a smirk. "Apology accepted." He glanced down at Kalu, who wagged his tail between them like an excited child. "But next time, before you accuse a 'dog smuggler,' try asking first?"
She sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Actually..." she hesitated. "Kalu was kidnapped once. That's why I'm overprotective."
The smirk vanished from Zayne's face. He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Kidnapped?" His voice was lower now, his Russian accent thickening.
"In India, people steal dogs and force them to breed. Then they sell the puppies at high prices," she explained, her fingers tightening around Kalu's fur.
Zayne's jaw tensed. He had seen the horrors of puppy mills—dogs crammed in cages, used until they were sick and discarded like trash. His grip on the newspaper tightened before he slowly set it down.
"He was lucky someone didn't breed him to death," he muttered, more to himself than her.
Priya's eyes darkened with painful memories. "I saved him just in time."
Zayne looked at her, really looked at her. "How old was he?"
"One year old." Her voice was softer now. "I was new in the police force when I found him." She hesitated before pointing at her lower lip. "See this cut? It's from that incident."
His sharp gaze zeroed in on her lip. Until now, he hadn't noticed the small, jagged scar just above the curve of her mouth. His fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to touch it.
"You saved him…" he said, his voice quieter. "At the cost of yourself."
Priya shrugged, but her grip on Kalu tightened. "They cut my lip with a knife."
His entire body went still. The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. "Fuck." His voice was a whisper laced with quiet fury. "Those bastards."
Without thinking, he reached out, his thumb gently brushing the scar. Priya's breath hitched at the unexpected touch. His fingers were rough, calloused, yet he touched her with the kind of carefulness that made her stomach twist.
"Did you arrest them?" His voice was dangerously low, the kind of tone that promised violence.
She nodded.
"You made them regret it," he said, not as a question but a statement.
A ghost of a smirk touched her lips. "Hmm."
Zayne looked down at Kalu, then back at Priya. "Can I adopt him?"
Priya blinked, surprised. "You… want him?"
"I already have," he said simply.
Something in the way he said it left no room for argument. Kalu barked happily, as if approving his new owner. Priya felt a weight lift off her chest.
"Thanks, Mr. Kim," she said.
He frowned. "Call me Zayne."
She hesitated. "Okay… Zayne."
Before he could say anything else, he reached for her lip again, this time studying the depth of the scar. Priya's heart pounded at the unexpected intimacy.
Then—
A slow, sarcastic clap echoed through the room.
"Bravo!"
Priya jerked away from Zayne's touch, turning toward the source.
A blonde woman stood in the doorway, her red lips twisted into a sneer. She was tall, draped in an expensive designer dress, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
Masha.
"The great Zayne is touching a lowly Indian cop!" she mocked, laughter bubbling from her lips. She tossed her hair back, eyes gleaming with malice. "You know what they say about Indians, right?"
Priya stiffened, anger curling in her stomach. Before she could react, Masha smirked at her.
"Maybe you're his new slut?" She scoffed, crossing her arms. "His new sugar baby?"
Priya's mind went blank. Was she—was this woman Zayne's girlfriend?
Before she could process her emotions, Zayne's voice cut through the room, firm and ice-cold.
"Masha," he said slowly, his Russian accent thick with warning. "Shut. Up."
Masha ignored him. She turned to Priya with a condescending smirk. "Didn't you know? He has a type." She winked mockingly. "Sugar babies, whores—"
Zayne stepped forward, towering over Masha. "You're my old sugar baby, Masha. Nothing more."
Priya's heart twisted.
Masha, unfazed, leaned closer, her red nails grazing Zayne's chest. "I know your dick needs," she purred.
Before Priya could hear more, she turned on her heel and strode to her police bike.
Masha saw her watching. Smirking, she grabbed Zayne by the collar and pressed her lips against his cheek.
That was the last thing Priya saw before she revved the engine and drove away, leaving dust in her wake.
꧁༒༻༺༒꧂ ꧁༒༻༺༒꧂
༶•┈┈┈༓༓༓༓༓༓༓༓༓┈┈┈•༶
༺ To be continued… ༻
꧁༒༻༺༒꧂꧂༒༻༺༒꧂
© 2025 Cub Vailisa. All Rights Reserved.
⚖️ Unauthorized Reproduction, Distribution, or Adaptation is Strictly Prohibited. ⚖️
⚠️ Legal Action May Be Taken for Violations. ⚠️
📚 To My Wonderful Readers of Mafia's Touch & Beyond 📚
✨ I'm thrilled to announce that my stories are now coming to life through animation on my YouTube Channel! ✨
🎥 Join me on Cub Vailisa's YouTube for animated adaptations of your favorite chapters, exclusive content, and behind-the-scenes glimpses of my creative process! 🎥
🔔 Don't forget to subscribe, hit the bell, and immerse yourself in the visual world of my novels! 🔔