The sun beat down over the university gates, students spilling out with chatter and laughter—until they saw it.

The familiar black Cruiser, parked like a silent threat, flanked by two matte black Raptors, engines humming low like warning growls. Angad’s men stood around the vehicles—black shades, tighter jaws, guns beneath crisp shirts. They weren’t here for drama. They were here for her.

And leaning against the cruiser, all 6’3 of him—ACP Angad. Broad. Burly. Built like a wall no one dared to climb. His police badge flashed under the sun, but everyone knew better. He was more gangster than cop. More feared than followed. A storm wrapped in a uniform. His heritage ran deep—Indian, proud, and ruthless in the way his people demanded respect. No one dared to challenge him, whether in the streets of India or the streets of this university.

Lately, his temper had been a bit harder to control. His anger had grown so intense that just a week ago, he’d walked out of anger management therapy after nearly beating the therapist to a pulp. He didn’t have patience for anyone who tried to calm the fire inside him.

And then came YN—sassy, feisty, untouched by fear but too damn gorgeous for peace. The moment she stepped out with her friends, a ripple of tension spread. Every guy on campus looked down. Eyes dropped. Conversations died. Because everyone knew what it meant when Angad showed up.

Possessive wasn’t the word. Obsessed wasn’t enough.

His eyes locked on her. Unmoving. Unblinking. Territorial.

Angad (voice low, rough):
"Took your time, jaan."

He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. His presence said it all—YN was his. And the whole damn city better keep remembering it.