Rohan arrived at 8:15 p.m., pulse already racing. The back gate was unlocked again, the house dark except for the warm glow leaking from Ananya’s bedroom window. Last night’s video threat from “Uncle Raj” hung over everything like smoke, but the fear had twisted into something sharper—excitement. Danger made everything wetter, harder, filthier.

Ananya met him at the kitchen door in nothing but an oversized school shirt—hers or maybe Priya’s—unbuttoned to the navel, sleeves rolled up, hem barely covering her ass. No panties, no bra. Her nipples poked dark and insistent against the white cotton. She didn’t speak, just grabbed his belt and dragged him inside.