Thank you for reading my story and sorry for the mistakes , feel free to correct the mistakes

So here is the first chapter ...

Outside of a royal buliding one mysterious figure is standing looking at the building with cold gaze

She wore black tonight a high-slit dress, backless, silent stilettos. Diamond blades lined her thighs. A gun tucked into a thigh holster. Hair down, cascading like ink. Only one eye visible a cold violet lens.

A lie. A warning.

She walked in like death wearing a velvet dress.

And the world , the underworld held its breath.

Not because Forest had arrived. No...

Because the monster they all feared most had chosen to be seen.

The chandeliers above the ballroom glittered like stardust, but even that opulence dimmed under her presence. The moment her heels touched the obsidian floor, the music faltered. Conversations died.

Men who ruled empires with blood and fire forgot how to breathe.

Every head turned as the ballroom doors whispered open. And there she stood, framed in obsidian marble and golden light, her silhouette cut from the finest silk and violence.

She didn't smile

She didn't speak.

She just existed and that was enough to make grown men feel like prey.

No one in that room not the Bratva kings, not the Yakuza elders, not the Colombian cartel princes in their blood-stained suits had ever been able to summon her.

They'd tried.

God, they had tried.

With money. Territory. Power.

And she had turned them all down.

Every. Single. One.

Why?

Because she was the best assassin in the world , never seen coming, never survived. Every mafia king on every continent had tried to recruit her. Some offered kingdoms. Others offered their lives. None were accepted.

She was wealthier than most governments. Her garage housed cars from brands that hadn't even released models yet. Her private jets? Invisible to radar. Her penthouses? Hidden in legal loopholes, cloaked in coded illusions. She owned yachts the way others owned shoes. She wore Versace the way others wore blood.

She had more of it money, power, fear than half the empires in that room combined.

Black-market investments. Ghost corporations. Offshore accounts so complex that even the most ruthless cartel accountants couldn't trace them.

And yet none of that compared to her mind.

The greatest hacker alive. Governments feared her. Agencies tried to track her. She'd infiltrated Pentagon systems before she turned twenty. Fluent in every language known and unknown, she spoke with the elegance of royalty and the venom of a blade.

She was the hacker who rewrote nuclear protocols for fun.

The linguist who seduced a prime minister out of his launch codes.

The assassin who left no prints, no DNA, no shadow behind.

Because Forest wasn't for sale.

That was all she needed - one name.

No aliases. No titles.

She didn't make allies.

She didn't keep friends.

She didn't believe in peace treaties or false loyalty.

She was untouchable. Unclaimed.

Unforgiving.

And tonight, she wasn't here for politics.

She was here for blood.

Rumors said she could kill with anything like a pen, a paperclip, a whisper. That she once silenced an entire military regime with a single bugged phone call. That she burned a $900 million intelligence network in four hours because a tech CEO didn't return her message.

They said she could speak every language on Earth like she was born into each one like Russian, Japanese, Arabic, French. Even the dead ones. Even the ones buried with forgotten empires. There was no safe zone left where she couldn't blend in, seduce, manipulate, or kill.

They said she built her fortune not just through contracts and assassinations, but through blackmail, code, secrets, and digital weapons no one even understood.

But Ridhima didn't build her empire through inheritance.

She built it with code and blood.

She was a linguist.

A coder.

A killer.

And a myth they feared more than war itself.

What made her more terrifying than the kings who slaughtered cities was the unknown.

Still, for all her legends, no one ever saw her eyes clearly. Not truly.

She never let them.

They were always hidden either beneath the long dark fringe of her bangs or behind opaque lenses.

Sometimes she wore colored contacts icy blue, smoky grey, violet. Other times, her long black bangs draped across her face like a silk curtain. Not because she was shy. Not because she was hiding scars.

But because her real eyes - deep forest green were terrifying. Seductive. Dangerous.

Mysterious, like the forest no one dared to enter. The kind no one came back from.

They were the kind of green that made monsters kneel.

The kind that held entire pasts and untold wars within them.

The kind of green one man never forgot.

Grey...

The only one who'd seen her eyes and lived. The only one who gave her the name Forest after seeing them.

She glided past the guards like shadow through smoke.

"The monster is here," someone whispered.

Not realizing the real monster was already smiling.

She moved through the ballroom like she didn't belong to this world. Like she came from a darker, deeper place forged in fire, betrayal, and obsession. People stepped aside instinctively. Some bowed. Others couldn't look at her.

She didn't blink.

Didn't speak.

Even now, standing at the center of the most dangerous peace treaty in the world surrounded by killers and kings she wore violet lenses. Her hair swept low across one side of her face, casting one eye in an elegant shadow.

Because no one deserved to see the real her.

The silence didn't fall.

It shattered.

One moment, the ballroom hummed with quiet tension champagne fizzing, laughter forced, men in silk suits talking with guns hidden beneath their smiles. The next, the room suffocated on its own breath.

Because she had arrived.

Forest.

The name didn't need to be announced. It traveled through the air like smoke before fire slipping under doors, crawling up spines. She wasn't just known she was feared. Revered. Mythologized.

She wasn't the kind of assassin people hired.

She was the kind of monster people prayed for they'd never meet.

And tonight, the underworld's deadliest predator walked among the kings.

From Russia's Bratva lords to the cold-blooded Yakuza, every mafia leader with blood on their hands stood in that room for a rare, brittle treaty a desperate attempt to broker peace, to stop their wars from spilling into the public.

The kind of event where one wrong move meant massacre.

But Forest wasn't here for peace.

She was here because someone had made a mistake.

Someone had placed a contract on the wrong man.

Her man.

Vansh Rai Singhania. The mafia king of India. Power-drenched. Feared. Untouchable.

The man she loves like a curse.

But no one knows. Not even the king himself.

She would slit throats for him.

Kill for him.

Burn the world for him.

He was hers to destroy.

Hers to protect.

Hers to burn for.

Vansh Rai Singhania...

Every inch the king. Black suit tailored to sin. Shirt open just enough to show the ink over his chest the one she etched into his skin. His hands were ringed, deadly, resting lazily on the armrest of a throne-like chair. And his eyes cold, sharp, unreadable met hers with quiet, magnetic violence.

No fear.

Only hunger.

Only memory.

Only her.

A smirk curled his lips, slow and deep. "I was wondering when you'd show."

Forest didn't answer.

Words weren't necessary between them.

Not when her gaze said everything.

I know what they tried. I know who sent the order. And I'm going to make them scream.

She stepped closer. Close enough to breathe the scent of smoke and blood on his skin and beneath that, the unshakable imprint of their past.

Her voice, when it came, was low and brutal.

"Who gave the contract?"

He tilted his head, dark amusement flickering like a match in his eyes. "If I knew, they'd already be dead."

She didn't blink. "They will be."

And as if fate timed it perfectly, a tremor rippled through the crowd.

A man low-ranking, cocky, overconfident stood near the far corner, beads of sweat gathering at his temple.

Forest didn't need confirmation.

She already knew.

Her hand moved so fast it was a blur. Steel gleamed in the low light. The knife sang through the air like it had a mind of its own.

Thunk.

The blade buried itself in his throat. One scream gurgled and wet and then silence.

Blood sprayed across the white marble, soaking the treaty beneath his boots.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

And Forest turned her head slightly, just enough for the entire room to hear her final words.

"Let it be known," she said, eyes still locked on Vansh, "do not touch what you shouldn't."

And in that moment, the world remembered who the real monster was.

Not Vansh Rai Singhania.

Not the mafia kings.

But the woman who walked away from blood like it was perfume and left hell in her wake.

That's it for today I hope you all like it votes and comments kar dena

How's the first chapter did you like it

Give your response