Rohit zipped up his pants and straightened his shirt, glancing back at Sheela.
She was still trembling against the wall, trying to catch her breath. The sight of his cum leaking from both her pussy and her freshly fucked ass filled him with dark satisfaction.
He took out his phone and quickly snapped a photo of her disheveled, cum-drenched state.
"Say cheese," he smirked.
Sheela imdiately hid her face with her arms. "Please... no photos," she begged, rolling her eyes in embarrassnt.
Before Rohit could reply, his phone rang.
It was Aisha. The mont he picked up, her panicked voice ca through.
"Rohit... co fast! I need you right now!"
His expression turned serious. "I’m leaving first," he told Sheela urgently, not waiting for her reply before rushing back toward the party area.
When he reached the booth, Tanuj was still passed out. There was no sign of Arya or Vijay.
Then he heard shouting near the bar counter.
A crowd had already gathered there.
At the center of the commotion stood Tanya, heavily drunk and barely able to stand properly.
"Leave alone!" she shouted drunkenly while trying to pull free. "I’ll decide where I wanna go... I’m going with them..."
On one side, Pankaj and Asim were holding onto her arms while laughing drunkenly themselves.
"That’s right," Asim slurred. "She’s old enough to decide for herself."
Pankaj smirked. "Stop acting like her mother just because you’re sisters."
Opposite them, Aisha was desperately trying to pull Tanya back while supporting most of her collapsing weight.
"Like hell I’ll let you bastards take her!" she snapped angrily. "None of you are even in your right minds!"
Rohit stepped into the middle of the scene.
"What’s going on?"
The mont Pankaj noticed him, his expression twisted.
"Well look who finally showed up," he sneered drunkenly. "Bastard got wings after dancing with another man’s girl. First tell us where the hell you took Shee—"
Slap!
The sound cracked through the bar.
Pankaj’s entire body spun sideways before crashing unconscious onto the floor.
Asim froze for half a second before rage exploded across his face.
"You bastard!"
He grabbed a wine bottle from the nearby table and charged clumsily toward Rohit.
Rohit calmly stepped aside.
His hand shot forward instantly, catching Asim’s wrist mid-swing with terrifying precision.
The bottle slipped from Asim’s hand.
But before it could even hit the ground, Rohit caught it himself.
Then smashed it straight across Asim’s head.
Crash!
The bottle shattered violently.
Asim collapsed screaming onto the floor, clutching his bleeding scalp as shards scattered across the marble tiles.
Panic imdiately spread through the crowd.
People backed away.
Many rushed out entirely.
The bar manager hurried over with two bouncers. At first, they had stayed back thinking it was just a drunken internal fight, but now that property was being damaged and violence had escalated, they moved in.
"Stop him!" the manager shouted.
One bouncer threw a punch. Rohit dodged instinctively, grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it brutally behind his back, and kicked his knee, forcing him down.
"Tell your partner not to touch ," Rohit growled dangerously, "or I’ll break his fucking arm."
The second bouncer looked at the manager.
The manager, now clearly panicked, raised his hands.
"Okay, okay! We won’t touch you. But you’re not welco here. Please leave, or we’ll have to call the police."
Rohit’s eyes narrowed
"You really have the audacity to say that shit to my face?"
He twisted the bouncer’s arm harder.
The man scread in pain.
"Where the fuck were you.. when these drunken bastards were manhandling my cousins?"
The manager’s mouth opened. Closed.
"I can shut this fucking place down in twenty-four hours," Rohit continued, sa tone. "Do you understand ?"
Sothing shifted in the manager’s expression — a recognition, a recalibration. The authority in the voice. The complete absence of panic.
He folded his hands, joining his palms. "Sir. We are only employees. Please — we ant no disrespect."
Rohit finally released the bouncer, who imdiately stumbled backward like he had escaped a wild animal.
The entire bar had fallen silent by now.
No one dared interfere anymore.
Rohit reached into his pocket and threw a business card directly at the manager’s chest.
"Call him. He’s my secretary. He’ll reimburse your damages."
The manager picked up the card hurriedly.
The mont he read the na, his face lost all color.
"Singhania..."
His voice nearly cracked.
"Sir... you’re from the Singhania family?"
Rohit ignored the question entirely and walked toward Aisha instead.
Aisha was struggling to get Tanya upright. He moved over and helped without comnt.
The manager appeared at his shoulder again, quieter now and considerably more formal. "Sir — apologies for the earlier misunderstanding. What should we do with your friends?"
"They’re not with us," Rohit said. "Report them if you want. I won’t be involved."
The manager exhaled. "Understood, sir. And — again, I apologize."
Rohit ignored it. He turned to Aisha. "Where’s Arya?"
Aisha shook her head. "Last I saw she was on the dance floor. After that these two kept at until Tanya lost her mind and decided she wanted to leave with them."
Rohit nodded. He could track Arya through Lisa but he wanted the full picture first.
"You’re the one in charge?"
"Yes, sir. Anything you need."
"Show the CCTV footage. I want to find my sister."
***
The back room was small and cramped, with three monitors stacked on a cluttered desk showing different angles of the nightclub. The manager quickly pulled up the requested tistamp and silently stepped back.
Rohit watched the footage without blinking.
Arya was sitting alone in the booth, phone pressed to her ear. She called once... twice... three tis. Each ti with no answer. After the third attempt, she set the phone down with clear frustration and reached for her drink.
That was when Vijay appeared.
He sat down beside her and started talking. At first, Arya looked visibly uncomfortable. But slowly, her guard lowered. Vijay offered her a shot. She hesitated... then accepted. Then another. And another.
Empty glasses steadily multiplied on the table as Vijay leaned closer, growing more familiar with every passing minute.
Rohit’s gaze shifted to the tistamp in the corner.
Eleven minutes.
That was all it took.
In just eleven minutes, Arya’s posture went from upright and composed to sluggish and unsteady. Her head grew heavy. Her eyes struggled to stay open. Eventually, her head fell back against the booth.
Two minutes later, Vijay stood up calmly, slipped her arm over his shoulder, and walked her out — supporting most of her weight while keeping a perfectly composed expression.
Too composed.
Like he had done this before.
Rohit checked the current ti. Twenty minutes had already passed.
He slowly straightened up, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered coldly under his breath.
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