Hi everyone 🤍

Here’s a new chapter for you all. Grab a cozy spot, settle in, and enjoy the read. ✨

Bears 🐻

Okay, so tell me—do you want aesthetics of her apartment in Italy, the palace of the Ranawats, and their pets, dogs? You can also suggest pets that you’d like any of the characters to have.

Author's Pov

Italy, Bologna.

The underground street racing arena was alive-thrumming with the wild roar of engines and the feverish pulse of the crowd. Tonight wasn't just another race. Tonight, The Black Claw-the legend, the mystery, the undefeated queen of the track-was about to ride again.

Nia.

No one knew her real face. The world only knew her leather mask, her piercing eyes, and the whispers that followed her like smoke. Some claimed she was Italian, others swore she was Indian. Rumors spread about her family, her past, her reason for racing-but no one had ever caught her. After every victory, she vanished like a shadow swallowed by the night.

But tonight was different. Tonight was her last race.

The crowd's energy crackled like electricity, desperate for a glimpse of her. Cheers mixed with shouts, some chanting her name, others waiting to see if her rival could finally dethrone her.

Leonardo Romano. The arrogant prodigy, second only to her. His pride was his crown, and tonight, he wanted it gilded with her defeat.

Then-silence.

Her entrance was a storm wrapped in elegance. The deep growl of her black superbike cut through the noise, and the moment she appeared, every soul stilled. Her eyes-sharp, cold, and burning with untold fire-swept over the sea of faces. The air shifted with her presence. She raised her hand once, and the silence erupted into thunderous cheers, the arena trembling with her name.

She dismounted, boots hitting the ground with authority, her aura unshakable. Leonardo stepped forward, a smug grin carved into his face.

"Sei pronto a perdere?" he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

(Are you ready to lose?)

The crowd split-some booing him, others roaring in his support.

But Nia didn't flinch. Her lips curved into a smirk beneath the mask, eyes glinting with lethal amusement.

"Lo hai detto cinque volte... sembri tu quello che cerca di convincersi." she shot back, her tone sharp, playful, and cruelly precise.

(You've said it five times... looks like you're the one trying to convince yourself.)

Her laugh cut him deeper than any blade.

Leonardo's pride faltered for an instant. He stepped forward, temper flaring, but the announcement boomed overhead, calling racers to the start.

Engines roared to life. Tires burned against asphalt. The night itself seemed to hold its breath.

This wasn't just a race.

It was war.

The flag dropped.

Engines roared like wild beasts released into the night, and in an instant, Nia was gone-thrown forward with the force of her black machine. Her chest rose and fell fast, too fast, the way it always did when the road demanded all of her. She wasn't just racing for victory-she was racing to prove she was still untouchable.

Leonardo was at her side immediately. His speed was merciless, his bike growling louder with every second, trying to swallow her lead. The crowd roared, their voices tangled between his name and hers, but Nia barely heard them. The only rhythm she knew was the pounding of her heart and the screaming of her tires against the asphalt.

She was young, barely more than a teenager, but on the track she carried herself like a queen-because this was the only crown she had, and she wasn't about to hand it over.

Leonardo swerved into her lane, sharp and reckless, trying to scare her off her line. For a moment, her bike wobbled. Any other racer would have pulled back, but Nia didn't. She leaned in closer, her grip tightening, and the corners of her eyes narrowed beneath the mask. He wanted her to flinch. She refused.

Every turn was a battle. Her body bent with the machine, skimming so close to the ground it was as if she might collapse with it. Sparks danced in the dark as metal kissed asphalt, but Nia held steady. Her breath came ragged, her arms ached, yet her eyes never left the road ahead.

Black Claw doesn't fall. Not tonight.

The final stretch came, the finish line blazing under the floodlights. Leonardo pushed harder, pulling ahead by a fraction. The crowd roared louder, sensing a new king rising. But Nia-Nia was not done.

She bent lower, whispering something only her bike would hear, her whole body fusing with the machine. The engine screamed as she forced it past its limit. Inch by inch, she closed the gap. Then, with one last surge, she cut past him-the air itself seemed to tear apart as her bike flew first across the line.

The crowd exploded. Cheers, screams, chaos. But Nia sat trembling on her machine, chest heaving, sweat sliding down her skin. Behind the mask, her eyes burned-not just with victory, but with the weight of what it meant.

She was still the queen. Still Black Claw. Still untouchable.

For now.

She stabled herself displined got her composure. She looked around eyes still.

The last time the cheers the celebration. Then suddenly her phone buzzed. She looked and muted it. She got off her bike and stood straight and did her official sign off singnature. And then back to her bike she roared and went back like lighting speed.

Next day.

The city was awake, but inside a luxurious apartment draped in white and grey, everything was still. The curtains let in slivers of golden sunlight, painting soft lines across the polished floor.

Upstairs, on the balcony of her room, a girl stood in her gym attire. Her body was calm, her sweat dried, but her eyes-those stormy eyes-remained steady, almost too calm for someone her age.

She wasn't fragile. She wasn't the kind of teenager who cried over breakups or sought comfort in careless desires. She knew only one path-her own way, her own perfection.

NAINTARA SHERGILL.

A name the world had never heard. A girl hidden behind masks-one for the racetrack, another for her past. Only a few people knew who she truly was. The rest? They only saw the legend.

Beside her stood Rex and Rose, two sleek Dobermans with sharp eyes and sharper loyalty. To the world, they might look deadly. To her, they were gifts-mischievous shadows by day, quiet guardians by night. Her family, when she had none left.

The peace broke with the sharp ring of her phone.

Naintara glanced at the screen and sighed. The same name flashing for the fiftieth time in three days. Annoyance flickered across her face, but she picked up anyway.

Naintara: “Aapki sachi umar ho gayi hai, Mama. Kitni baar bolu? Main aa rahi hoon. Kashi. Mumma aur Dad ki barsi hai, aur is baar mujhe aana hi hai. Mujhe pata hai…”

(You really have grown old, Mama. How many times must I say it? I’m coming. To Kashi. It’s Mumma and Dad’s death anniversary, and this time, I have to be there. I know…)

Her tone was laced with irritation, but also with the weight of a promise.

On the other side, the man chuckled softly before replying:

Jitendra.“Hum jaante hain… aur umar aapki ho gayi hai, meri nahi, beta. Samjho zara. Tumhari mami mujhe jeene hi nahi de rahi. Pichle ek hafte se bas ek hi raga hai—meri beti, meri beti. Samjhi, tum chhoti shaitaan?”

His voice started gentle but turned half-annoyed by the end.

(I know… and it’s you who’s grown old, not me, child. Try to understand. Your mami hasn’t let me live in peace. For the past week, it’s been only one thing—‘my daughter, my daughter.’ Do you understand, you little devil?)

JITENDRA YADAV.

The man who had been her anchor since her parents’ death. The reason her identity was buried, protected from the world. To her, he wasn’t just a guardian. He was the shield she never asked for but always needed.

Naintara rolled her eyes, but a smile slipped onto her face almost instantly.

Naintara: “D… kaha hai woh? Nahi aa rahe?” The question was quiet, but her heart betrayed her. It ached, twisting inside her chest, though she hid it well.

(And… where is he? He isn’t coming, is he?)

It wasn’t Jitendra who answered. Instead, a softer voice came through, one that carried warmth and restraint.

NITYA YADAV. Jitendra’s wife, the woman who had stepped into her life like a mother, without ever asking for the title.

Nitya: “You know him, Tara. And you know he won’t come.”

Her words were gentle, but even that gentleness cracked with pain.

Naintara’s smile was bitter. She lowered her gaze to the bracelet on her wrist. A small, simple bracelet, but when the sunlight hit the tiny moon-shaped charm, it glowed softly. She traced it with her fingers, as if it held memories she couldn’t let go of.

On the other end, Nitya’s voice carried again, firmer now.  “Aur haan… tumhe aur bhi kisi se milana zaruri hai.” The seriousness in her tone didn’t escape Naintara. Her jaw tightened.

(And yes… there’s someone else you need to meet.)

Naintara: “I hope it’s nothing new this time.”

Her flat reply carried a tiredness that slipped through the cracks. The words twisted Nitya’s heart in ways she couldn’t admit aloud.

After a few more words, the call ended. The apartment fell silent again. Without hesitation, Naintara set her phone down and walked into the washroom, her steps steady, her mask of composure never once slipping.

Three Days Later

Rome Airport.

The airport buzzed with voices, calls, and the rush of security checks. In the middle of it all, Naintara sat in the business-class lounge. It wasn’t crowded—just enough people murmuring in hushed tones or busy with their own worlds.

She sat on a sofa with her laptop open on the table, fingers typing in a fast rhythm, precise and unrelenting. Her headphones streamed her playlist, just loud enough to distract her, just low enough to hear the announcements.

When it was time, she stood, moving with careful precision, and headed toward the plane. After the formalities, she settled into her first-class seat. Fewer people, more silence—a rare corner of peace where her swirling emotions had nowhere to hide.

As the plane lifted off, Naintara leaned back, headset in place, letting the music drown her chaos. For her, this was supposed to be only a journey to her parents’ death anniversary—and then a return.

But destiny had written something else.

A return, yes. But not just to the anniversary.

A return to the place she truly belonged.

And to the war she had always unknown to.

hope you liked this chapter 💫 The next one is waiting with even more intensity and drama!

Naintara is finally going to meet someone from her family…

The very first glimpse of her with a family member.

Tell me—who do you want that person to be?

So let’s meet again in the next chapter! Stay tuned… and don’t forget to vote, comment, and follow for more because just to share honestly—if I don’t update sometimes, it’s because of certain reasons. I’ll only write a note when it feels important rather than i will only post it on my ID. Thank you for understanding and being here.🤍