The bar throbbed with neon and bass, but Saanvi Desai was the real storm. Furious with Kabir Chauhan, the Assistant Commissioner of Police who ruled her heart and her temper, she downed tequila like it was ammunition, swaying against strangers, her laughter sharp enough to cut. Every glance, every touch was aimed at one man-watching her from the shadows like a predator. Kabir's gaze never left her, jaw tight, control fraying. When a stranger's hand slid too low on her waist, he moved-cutting through the crowd, shoving the guy back with a growled, "Get your hands off her." "You don't own me, Kabir!" she snapped, heels wobbling as she fought his grip. The man puffed his chest. "Who the hell are you?" Kabir didn't look at him. He simply set his service pistol on the table. Clunk. The music stopped, the bar froze, and the stranger's bravado bled away. Saanvi's breath hitched under Kabir's dark, unblinking stare-a silent warning that the most dangerous thing in the room wasn't the gun. It was him. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) Kabir Chauhan - Assistant Commissioner of Police Disciplined. Reserved. Calculated. A man who thrives on order, strategy, and the weight of responsibility. His life is a checklist of rules-and he never breaks them. Saanvi Desai - Surgeon Passionate. Fearless. Impulsive. A woman who trusts her instincts over logic, runs toward chaos instead of away, and believes some risks are worth taking.