**Samaira's POV**

The waiter places the tray of dinner on the small table, and I stare at the untouched plate. The scent of food fills the room, but my stomach remains unsettled. My mind is restless, buzzing with questions that I desperately want answers for.

The door creaks open, breaking my chain of thoughts. My eyes lift to see Advait entering the room. His sharp gaze immediately lands on the untouched tray, and his jaw tightens.

"You haven't eaten," he says, his voice low but unmistakably disapproving.

"I didn't feel like it," I reply, keeping my tone defiant, though I can feel the tension in the air.

His eyes narrow, and his voice hardens. "Your body doesn't work on your feelings, Samaira. It needs energy to survive, and energy comes from food. So now, eat."

I fold my arms, holding my ground despite the flicker of intimidation his commanding tone stirs. But something inside me shifts, and I realize I can use this moment.

"Fine," I say, tilting my head slightly. "I'll eat... if you answer a question first."

His brow arches, but there's no hesitation in his response. "Go ahead."

I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "How did you find me at the train station? Only my parents, Anay, and Aahana knew I was leaving. Are you really that powerful?"

His lips curl into a faint smirk, but his eyes remain calculating. "You haven't even seen a fraction of my power yet," he says, his tone dripping with quiet authority.

A chill runs down my spine, but I push through it. "Then how?"

His smirk fades, replaced by a more serious expression. "I received a phone call," he says finally. "A mysterious voice told me where you were. I didn't have time to figure out who they were or why they helped me. My only priority was finding you."

A phone call? Someone had betrayed me, given him my location. My thoughts race, cycling through the people I trust. Who could it have been? And why?

Before I can press further, he takes a step closer. My pulse quickens as his presence fills the space, his towering figure looming over me.

I tense, unsure of his next move, but instead of speaking, he reaches out, gently taking my hand in his. My heart skips a beat as he places a small blister pack of medicine in my palm, then hands me the glass of water. His fingers brush against mine, the contact sending a jolt through me.

"Take your medicine," he says, his voice softer now. Then, stepping back, he adds, "No more questions for today."

It's as if he's read my mind, shutting down my thoughts before they can fully form.

I glance at the food tray, then back at him. He watches me with an intensity that leaves no room for argument. Slowly, I pick up the fork and take a small bite, the taste bland against the storm in my mind.

Satisfied, he gives a slight nod and leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

As I eat, his words echo in my mind: *"You haven't even seen a fraction of my power yet."*

And then there's what he said earlier, about being the predator and me being his prey. Was it a threat? Or some twisted form of concern? He'd said he didn't want his prey to think he'd won because she was weak. Did he really want me to recover so I could fight back? Or was this all part of his cruel game?

I hate the confusion he stirs in me, the way his actions and words linger, making it impossible to think clearly.

But I know one thing for certain: I can't let him win.

Not yet.

---

**Advait's POV**

Her defiance doesn't surprise me. It's almost predictable now, her futile attempts to resist me at every turn.

As I watch her finally pick up the fork and take a bite, I feel a flicker of satisfaction. She doesn't realize it, but she's already bending to my will.

The phone call.

It still lingers in my mind. The voice on the other end had been calm and confident, giving me her location without hesitation. I should've questioned it, demanded to know their identity. But at the time, I didn't care. All that mattered was finding her.

Now, though, the unanswered questions gnaw at me. Who made the call? And why?

I glance back at her one last time before leaving the room. She's eating quietly, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

She doesn't understand the game yet. She thinks she can outmaneuver me, that she can escape my grasp.

But she's wrong.

I meant what I said earlier-my prey should face me at her strongest, not when she's weak and broken. I want her to recover, to regain her strength, so she can try to fight me. Only then will she understand the inevitability of her fate.

For now, I'll let her rest. But soon, she'll see just how powerless she truly is.

After all, the hunt has only just begun.