Prakhar’s lips curved into a slow, mocking smile, his eyes gleaming with the cold, controlled calm of a predator.
“Not mine?” he drawled, the words laced with a dangerous amusement, every syllable a razor poised to cut.

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Prakhar’s lips curved into a slow, mocking smile, his eyes gleaming with the cold, controlled calm of a predator.
“Not mine?” he drawled, the words laced with a dangerous amusement, every syllable a razor poised to cut.

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