5- Injured

Rudransh's POV

After the blast, our car was badly damaged. I grabbed my gun and handed three more to Bahadur before stepping out. He understood his task to distribute one gun each to the others.

Grandma knows how to fight and use a gun, but I’m not sure about that girl. Bahadur is also a trained guard disguised as a driver.

There were about 12 terrorists pointing their guns at us. The guards and I did our best to keep their attention away from the car where the two women were sitting. But when they opened fire, we fired back, ducking and dodging bullets. Some of my men fell dead.

The police and military also tried to bring the terrorists down or capture any alive if possible. Soon, most of them lay dead on the road when I heard a scream: “Mr. Rajvansh...” followed by a gunshot. For a second, I froze.

But the second shot snapped me out of it. Along with some police and guards, I ran in the direction of the voice. I saw a man raising his gun, ready to fire at my grandmother, when the girl ran toward her and got hit by the bullet. I quickly fired two shots, hitting the man between the eyes, and he dropped to the ground with a thud.

I ran to Grandma and saw that she was unharmed. My attention shifted to the girl lying unconscious on the road beside her. She had taken a bullet for Grandma, which grazed her shoulder. Without thinking, I scooped her up in my arms, carrying her bridal style, while one of the guards helped Grandma to her feet. We got into another car, followed by the rest of the convoy.

Grandma was gently caressing the girl’s face, trying to stop her bleeding while applying pressure to her wounds. The other guards and Bahadur stayed with the police in their jeep since they were injured.

I instructed them to admit the guards to my hospital where they could receive better treatment, and then I took Grandma and the girl home, where our family doctors were already waiting.

In just 20 minutes, we arrived. I helped Grandma first, then carried the girl inside.

My guards followed, carrying the bag she had on her shoulder when I picked her up from the road.

“Mom.”

“Grandma.”

“Ansh beta.”

“Bhai.”

“Shalu, Ansh beta.”

I heard the shocked voices of my family members as I laid Mishthi down on the couch in the living room.

“Maa, are you alright? Oh God! You’re bleeding. Doctor!!” Mom shouted when she saw Grandma was injured.

“Dadi! Are you okay, Bhai?” my sister and brother asked.

“Oh, thank God! You both are safe,” prayed Chachi.

“I’m alright, everyone. Doctor, check on this girl. She’s bleeding. Save her,” I heard Grandma’s angry, sad voice. She sat beside the girl, lovingly caressing her head.

“Doctor Malhotra, make sure nothing happens to her. I’m taking her to the guest room. Follow me and start her treatment,” I said in a firm tone and carried her to the guest room.

Once I laid her on the bed and stepped out, the doctor started treating her wounds.

Another doctor tended to Grandma and me.

“What happened there? Who is that girl? Why is she here?” Mom and Chachi asked, looking at me and Grandma.

“She’s the girl I met on the train. She’s sweet and quiet. We were on our way home when the terrorists attacked, and she’s the one who took a bullet for me. Because of her, I’m sitting here safe and sound. She even killed one of the terrorists to save me,” Grandma explained, and a tear slipped from her eye.

Dadu sat beside her, hugging her from the side, while Dad came over and patted my shoulder—his way of showing praise.

I’d never seen her cry before, but now she was, for the girl who saved her life by killing that man and taking a bullet.

“Grandma, she’ll be fine. Now, please rest. I’ll make sure she gets the best treatment,” I said, looking at her reassuringly. She nodded and went to her room with Dadu.

“Mom, Chachi, please look after Grandma for a while. Samrat, keep an eye on the doctors,” I instructed, and they all nodded and went to carry out their tasks.

I went to my room to change into a clean set of clothes.

After a long shower and fresh clothes, I walked into the home office and called my best friend and private investigator, Virat Rathore.

“I need all the information on someone by tomorrow. I’m sending you the details.” I cut the call short, no time for pleasantries. He understood the seriousness by my tone.

“Is everything alright? How’s Dadi?” he asked.

“Dadi is fine and resting now. Everything’s alright; just do as I asked,” I replied in a neutral tone.

“Okay, send me the details,” he responded.

“Also, make sure this doesn’t reach the media. Don’t let it slip that Rudransh Jairaj Rajvansh and his guards shot dead the terrorists. Tell the military and police to keep quiet,” I added in the same tone.

“And make sure the only news is that ‘we survived a terrorist attack on our way home.’ Nothing more.” He understood and ended the call with, “Consider it done.”

I have my reasons to keep this news hidden—that I killed 12 terrorists with my guards while the police and military provided support. It’s too much for the business to handle.

The Rajvansh name carries power, fame, and fortune through business tactics and contacts. We have armed guards for security. But the news of me personally killing the terrorists would be shocking and could harm the Rajvansh reputation.