The arrival of the black SUVs at the Raichand mansion was usually a coordinated display of militaristic efficiency. But tonight, there was a palpable shift in the air. The heavy iron gates closed behind them, shutting out the relentless noise of Mumbai, leaving only the sound of the crashing Arabian Sea against the cliffs.

Aman didn't wait for his security detail to open the door. He stepped out of the SUV, moving with practiced, careful strength. Amyra was still wrapped in the thick blanket, her head nestled securely in the crook of his neck, completely lost to the world. She looked small against his massive frame, a sleeping doll in the arms of a titan.