The morning sun slanted through the thin curtain of room's window, brushing gold across the beige walls and the pink flower vase, my empty tea cup... and a small object were sitting precisely on the side table. I stood up from the bed, stretching my body, yawning. Straight after the morning routine, I took a bath and wore something ethnic- A long kurti with a white palazzo skirt. This outfit was my birthday present last year, by ofcourse my baba. He and the panditji had gone to the mall together, bickering over the colours. Baba wanted blush pink but the great priest of our Agra was betting his life on yellow, the lighter shade and eventually, he won. That was a wholesome moment when I had exclaimed excitedly seeing how the outfit fit me.
When I opened the window, the fresh air greeted me with a strange sensation. The place was new, adventurous and hence, I had made plans of touring atleast a few sites.
The moment I decided to turn around to leave for the aarti, I saw something lying on the window ledge, almost behind it.
My breath stilled.
There they were.
The same jhumkas.
Delicate, antique-silver with midnight blue beads — the ones I had paused at yesterday during the fair, admired silently, almost reached for, then walked away from.
The blood in my body ran cold.
I hadn't told anyone I liked them. No one knew I was even living in this rented place yet.
Except one man.
My eyes darkened.
Inspector Veer Sehrawat.
My jaw clenched.
What the hell was this supposed to mean? Was he... trying to bribe me? Impress me? No — no way. He couldn't be hitting on me like that. Could he? My fingers tightened around the jhumkas, a sudden sense of unease creeping over me. Was it just coincidence? Did Veer leave them for me? And why? His words had struck a chord with me yesterday night, but now I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the officer than he was letting on.
A sharp breath escaped me as fury surged. How dare he?
"Unki himmat kaise hui hum par line maarne ki?"
(How dare he hit on me?)
I didn't even bother to change into something more formal. In the same loose cotton kurta and flowy skirt, I grabbed my keys, snatched the jhumkas into the right fist, stormed down the steps, and climbed into my black Verna, engine revving like thunder.
Ofcourse I didn't know the location of the Police Station, nevertheless I asked two men to give me proper navigation. Nobody trusts Google, It will lead you to a graveyard and then say 'You have reached the banquet hall.'
The police station looked like a royal yet decent building. The paint was fresh as I could smell it. As I reached the table of a constable, I banged my right hand, the one holding the jumkas, on the wooden surface. He woke up from his trance of thoughts with a jolt.
"Where is Inspector Veer Sehrawat?"
"Madam aap-"
(Madam you-)
"Aap meri chhodiye, aur ye bataiye aapke officer kahan hai."
(Forget about me and just tell where your offficer is.)
The constable blinked, confused. Before he could respond, a senior officer in the background gave a small nod. The junior pointed to a door. "Woh... andar hain."
(He... is inside.)
I didn't knock.
i just barged in, the wooden door banging against the wall as Veer looked up from a case file, startled.
He was about to stand up when my voice hit like thunder.
"Aapki himmat kaise hui hum par line maarne ki?"
(How dare you hit on me?)
Veer froze. "Excuse me?"
I stepped forward, my glare sharp enough to cut through steel. "Line maarna sunai diya, Inspector? Ye jhumke," I slapped the pair on his desk, "jo kal humne us stall pe dekhe the—sirf aap wahaan khade the jab maine inhe dekha. Aur aaj subah, magically, ye meri window pe. Kaise explain karenge aap ye?"
(Hit on me, did you hear it, Inspector? These earrings... the one I had seen on that stall yesterday. You were the only person present when I saw and liked them. And this morning, magically, I had them on my window. How will you explain this?)
Veer looked down at the jhumkas. His face remained unreadable.
"Professional boundaries ke baare mein aapko koi confusion to nahi hai, Inspector?"
(Do you have any confusion about professional boundaries, Inspector?)
This time he stood up, stepping away from his chair, moving towards my direction but his steps halted at a respectful distance. Bipolar, akele mein jhumke bhejte hai aur yahan apni boundaries flaunt kar rahe hai.
(Bipolar, gives earrings secretly and is flaunting his boundaries here.)
"Ms. Hanitra, mujhe lagta hai aap kuch zyada hi assume kar rahi hain. I don't know what impression you've gotten, but I follow strict professional boundaries. I do not engage in such... behaviour."
(I think you are assuming too much..)
I glared. For a few seconds, I said nothing. My breathing was shallow, both fists clenched. Then slowly, I tried processing everything. My fury shifted to alertness. If he is not the one then....
"Theek hai, I believe your words. But then, if you are not the one who did this, it means that someone else was watching me. Find him, officer."
(Okay..)
"Kya?"
(What?)
"Yes, if these earrings were not given by you but someone else, the only conclusion that follows is that I have a stalker. Someone close enough to see what I liked. Someone who knew where I live." I stepped back, but just two steps, my hands now crossed forward. "Aur aapke sheher mein ek nayi ladki safe nahi hai. To ek police officer hone ke naate, ye aapka farz hai ki mein safe feel karun. Find the person behind this act. I am not registering this as an official complaint but rather giving YOU the duty. Aap hi ne kaha tha na ki koi problem ho to feel free to contact 'ME'. To lijiye, solve this problem Inspector Veer Sehrawat."
(And a new girl is not safe in your city. Hence, as a police officer, it's your duty that I feel safe... You were the one who said to contact you anytime I face a problem... So here you are...)
I paused, seeing his dumbfound face, though he masked it with amusement very quick. He just nodded, keeping those earrings in his pocket. I then again took only a step ahead, my finger pointing at him. "And officer, agar ye aapki hi harkat hui na, fir dekhna. Your whole department won't be able to find your body."
(And officer, if it was really your doing, then you'll see.)
I turned to leave, but fate might have hated me that moment, because my foot got stuck in my skirt. I was ready to meet the floor, but a strong, muscular hand got a hold of me from me elbow and pulled me towards the force. Mr. Veer had his one hand in his pocket, while the other held my hand, our positions quite awkward, well atleast for me.
"Pehele khud ko to sambhal lijiye Ms. 'They won't find my body'. " He smirked- no, HE SMIRKED AT MY FATE.
(First learn to handle yourself...)
I wasted no second to leave from there, my eyes angry again. Kyu Kanha, why did you do that? The same person I was shouting a moment ago was saving me from a fall. Uhhh...
(Why Kanha!!)
Author's POV
Hanitra had left, but left a storm behind in the once calm Police Station. Veer was massaging his temple The constable, who was standing outside the door, holding a tray was now visibly trembling. He had just witnessed a moment that shook his heart more than an attack.
"Sir... Ch.. Chaii..."
(Sir... Tea..)
Veer nodded his head. "Rakh dijiye, aur Sharma ji, bring me the list of complaint registered against stalkers."
(Keep it there and Mr.Sharma..)
"J..Ji S.. Sir.."
(Y.. yes.. Sir.)
During Lunch break, the station was anything but chaotic. Whispers- loud and dramatic, were echoing like morning bells.
"Sir ne uska haath pakda, meri aankhein jhooth nahi bolti."
(Sir held her hand, my eyes never lie.)
"Unhone to knock bhi nahi kiya and Sir ne kuch nahi kaha."
(She didn't even knock and sir didn't even say anything.)
"Arey, ye vahi to madam hai jinke saath Sir kal mele me the."
(Hey, she is the same woman whom Sir was with yesterday, in the fair.)
"Hmm.. Lagta hai is Station ki nayi boss finally aane wali hai."
(Hmm.. Seems like the station is getting its new boss soon.)
Another grinned. "Sir ke type ki nahi lagti, par drama to fir bhi filmy tha."
(He doesn't look like of Sir's type, but that drama was still filmy.)
Veer, walking past, raised a brow. "Zyada bolne se lip-sync kamzoor ho jata hai. Aur zyada sochne se dimaag. Dhyaan rakhiyega Mishra ji."
(Speaking too much results in the loss of lip-sync. And excess thinking leads to loss of brain Be aware Mr. Mishra.)
Later in the evening, after his shift was over, the Inspector drove his car to their meeting station, to brief Shivaay of the recent sudden violent outbreak in Sectors 13 and 21 of the city.
"The public accusations were outrageous, I doubt it was pre-planned. The CM was supposed to be there this afternoon, but I cancelled the plans, sensing his security. Three newly recruited undercovers have been sent to investigate the matter. The IG doesn't know it yet, but Shivaay, he may sense it soon. "
The person nodded. "Correct, let them find it out in just three days, if they are successful, we keep them but if they don't-"
"I'll have them dosed and return back to the IG."
"Inspector Veer, if I may, I think I am continuously hearing a jingling from your uniform pockets." Lakshay, the curious secretary of Shivaay jumped in the serious conversation.
The Police officer then searched his pocket and came out a pair of oxidized silver earrings. "Oh! These are of the girl from earlier, Hanitra."
Lakshay, who had recognized the pair the very instance, turned towards Shivaay. However, the CFO was composed as ever. "Care to elaborate, officer?"
"She has filed a complaint for these earrings. The girl marched in the station, fuming, accusing me of giving these to her secretly. When I denied, she asked me to find the person who gave these, whom he assumes, is her stalker. Vaise bhi, main bhala uspe linee kyu hi marunga."
(And why would I even hit on her!)
Shivaay just nodded. "Forget these earrings and just focus on dad's security in these rallies. I can't be present there with a strong reason except being his son. Hence, I have you as the head of his security team. Keep these earrings here, I'll ask someone else to handle that girl's case and give you the name.
The Inspector nodded and left. The earrings were now in Shivaay's left hand, clutched.
I wasted no time in looking at those damn earrings.
"So boss, the fourth- sorry, the original pair was for Ms. Hanitra, and here I was solving algorithms. But sir, to think of it, I had dropped you at home myself, then how did these earrings land at her window?" His voice dropped, dramatic. "Don't tell me... stealth transport?"
I glared at him but was the man about to shut up? No. Afterall, my secretary is a secret gossip-loving queen.
"If your brain has stopped researching about these earrings, connect me to Dhairya."
He nodded and a tablet was passed to me as I sat on my leather chair in the executive room of the station.
"Good evening, Mr. CFO, how's life?" A man wearing white kurta with navy blue printed joggers greeted me instead of the minister.
"Vivaan, why the hell are you there?"
"Dad has a meeting stationed in Lucknow base camp. An intelligence about a few Naxalists entering the border from Uttarakhand was received this morning. A blast was conducted already when we arrived."
Vivaan, the son of India's Defense Minister and also his Strategic Advisor.
"Any serious injuries?"
"None, except three civilians in ICU. Dad is there currently."
"And why is his Strategic Advisor at home, then?"
"According to some reports, Mr. Shivaay Singh Rathore, we suspect the men getting intelligence from Lucknow. So, to deal with the problem soon, the Defense Minister has sent me here, officially!"
"And your 'Officially' means staying with the Education Minister?"
"Wrong, we both are at a hotel, the one owned by Kritanjay. Now, if my interview is over, would you mind moving to the work?"
I nodded and the atmosphere abruptly changed into serious from mock-serious.
"This target's movements have changed. Our original entry plan won't work. We need to reroute from Station 5 and strike when their security rotates at 02:15. That throws off our infiltration window."
Dhairya's expression didn't shift, but his fingers tapped lightly on the glass table, thinking. "Reroute from Station 5?"
I nodded. "Only viable option. We move through the dry tunnels, bypass their COMM tower. Hit when the east wing guard changes. No CCTV. No exterior motion sensors."
Shivaay nodded, fingers steepled under his chin. "Fine-tune it with Kritanjay. No missteps, both of you. This operation can't afford leaks or delays."
"Done," Vivaan responded. "Also, Sapphire's intel wing traced the backup comms to a tunnel near the minister's estate. I've already sent our men to cut it off."
My eyes narrowed. "Perfect. I want zero noise, no casualties—just results."
Dhairya gave a sly grin. "And after that, maybe I'll finally get a break."
"Me too bhaii, just defense work for the next peaceful days." These two, the drama queens of Sapphire.
I didn't respond to the joke. My eyes were locked on the flickering screen, mind already racing toward contingency plans, timing errors, wind speeds, thermal barriers, and ways to erase all trace.
And then the alert buzzed.
Lakshay entered with urgency in his eyes. "Boss—Mafia Assembly. They've just announced the date. It's five days from now."
The air in the room shifted instantly.
"Where?" Vivaan asked.
"Baloch sector. Undercover. Neutral ground. But with Supreme and his people expected to attend..."
"They'll demand answers for the last breach," Dhairya finished, suddenly grave.
My voice dropped to a chilling calm. "Then this mission needs to end in vapor. No trails. I want our names erased before anyone starts asking questions."
Lakshay interjected, "We're running the operation on the 21st, tomorrow. Assembly's on the 25th."
"That gives us seventy-eight hours," I said, calculating. "We strike fast, vanish faster. If even one thread ties back to Sapphire before that assembly, they'll burn us alive."
"Then we go ghost," Vivaan replied. "No shadows, no echoes."
A silent agreement passed between us—this was no longer just a mission. It was survival. Sapphire's dominance in the underworld was built on precision, on invisibility. If this attack failed or left behind even a whiff of their presence, the council at the Mafia Assembly wouldn't hesitate to turn on them.
"Ek second, Shivaay, teri table par vo silver-sa kya hai." The Intelligence head, Vivaan Yaduwanshi with his eagle-like eyes asked.
(Wait a second, Shivaay, what's that silvery thing lying on your table?)
"Jhumke?"
(Earrings?)
"Ek Ladki ke jhumke tere pass?"
(You have a pair of a girl's earrings?)
A gasp, A LOUD GASP. "Don't tell me — tere secret shauk bhi hain?"
(You have secret hobbies?)
I facepalmed. "Dhairya..."
Lakshay chuckled. "Sir, woh Hanitra madam ke hain."
(Sir, they are of Ms. Hanitra?)
Dhairya's eyes widened in mock scandal. "WHAT?!" Then he turned full detective mode.
"Bhai... kya chal raha hai?"
(Bro, what's going on?)
"Oye, kon Hanitra? Koi mujhe bhi to batao."
(Hey, who Hanitra? Someone inform me too.)
I sighned, heavier than the Himalayas. "She was— is —the girl Veer had arrested in a misunderstanding, and I was the one who, indirectly, initiated it. Long story. I just... bought something she liked at the fair."
"Kya yeh wahi ladki hai jise humne uss footage mein dekha tha? The one Veer brought in? The one who was clever enough to reroute his whole file system during interrogation just because he got her name wrong?"
(Is she the same girl we saw in that footage?)
I sighed. "Yes."
Vivaan's mouth fell open.
"AND YOU GAVE HER JHUMKE?!"
"I didn't give her. I left them."
"WHERE?!"
"On her window."
"AT NIGHT?!"
"...eleven-ish."
Dhairya let out a barking laugh. "At eleven in the night?! Bhai, terrorist hunt chhod kar tu lover ban gaya?!"
(Bro, instead of terrorist hunting, you are being a lover boy?)
I pinched the bridge of his nose. "It was not like that. She liked them at the fair. I noticed. I returned them. That's it."
Vivaan wasn't letting go. "OH. So instead of giving them normally, you thought—'let me sneak to her house like a secret admirer and plant earrings like I'm auditioning for a 2000s romcom villain?'"
I surely looked like I wanted to stab something. "She thought Veer did it. Stormed the police station. Accused him of crossing professional boundaries. It was chaos."
Vivaan dropped the file he had in his hand like it was on fire.
"Shivaay Rathore, CFO of VASR, first heir of the Rathore legacy, silent controller of Sapphire arms—has turned into Prem from a 90s film?!"
"Vivaan—"
"I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE RATIONAL ONE!"
"Vivaan—"
"BRO, SHE FILED A STALKING COMPLAINT!""
"THAT WAS AGAINST VEER!"
"EXACTLY. AUR USKI NAZARON MEIN VEER KO AAPKA ROMANTIC VICTIM BANA DIYA!"
(And you made Veer your romantic victim in her eyes!)
Lakshay was howling by now, leaning against the table for support.
Shivaay stood there, fists clenched. "If even one more word comes out of either of you—"
But then Dhairya, coughing from laughter, wiped a tear and said, "Shivaay bhai, ek baat bata. Kya tu sach mein maafi de raha tha, ya dil de raha tha?"
(Shivaay, bro, tell me something. Were you really giving her a sorry or your heart?)
"Arrest kiya, phir jhumke diye, phir usne stalking report file kar di?!"
(You arrested her, gave her earrings and then filed a stalking report?)
I muttered, "It was just an apology, I think."
Dhairya howled. "Aur usne us apology ko legal threat samajh liya. Bhai, you've got skills."
(And she thought the apology was a legal threat..)
Shivaay slammed the drawer shut with the jhumkas inside and snapped the laptop screen closed. "Lakshay?"
"Yes, sir?" he said between giggles.
"Mere secretary ho ya yeh jokers ke?"
(Are you my secretary or of these jokers?)
Lakshay grinned. "Sir, dono mein scope hai."
(Sir, there's scope in both.)
Five minutes later, I was alone in my room, as Lakshay was assigned to review the mission of tomorrow. Now that the Supreme has announced the date, each organisation will lie low, but Sapphire needs to clear its name. However, what my brain was focusing on, was something else. My two most powerful organs were having a UN- level debate. I sat alone in the dark, the jhumkas now lying quietly on the table — the very pair I'd placed on Hanitra's window ledge a night ago, at eleven sharp, masked in shadows and impulse.
My fingers rested near them, but I didn't touch them.
"Shivaay Singh Rathore, what were you even thinking? Why the hell did you give her these earrings?" My brain screamed
"I don't know, okay. I saw she liked them so I thought-"
"You what huh? She might like the Mount Everest, why do you even care? Konsa bhoot chadh gaya tha tujhe, ki raat ke gyarah baje us temple ke paas gaya tha And remember, you hate that place?"
(What had possessed you that you went to that temple at eleven?)
"But, I felt she might like it, many girls do."
"And she is not one of them, Wait- are you having something for her?"
"What, No. She is brave, yes, unquestionably. BUT I DON'T LIKE HER."
"AND YOU STILL WENT OUT OF THE CM's MANSION, AT 11, TO GIVE HER SOME STUPID EARRINGS?"
"Okay, I might be curious, She is someone different."
"You know what, you are the leader of idiots. Don't ever listen to this stupid heart again. I am the one empowered to THINK, you better use me."
I was in my room, nine in the morning, searching about Dharma Foundation. It is an NGO, that works for animal welfare and runs a few orphanages in the state. Two wildlife sanctuaries and parks have been built by its funding. Everything seems immaculate about the organization, except its headquarters. They are located in a quite remote area, in the way to the fair. If it works for animals and children, why be in area that is too far to reach from both the sanctuaries and orphanages?
Sensing the surrounding, I left for my investigation, towards the Dharma Foundation. The way was simple, straight road with just two left turns. I scanned the whole route, upto five kilometers, but there was no significant building than the foundation's. When I reached back there, I had my car parked near a tree lane, that led to the main entrance gate of the building. However, I didn't enter it, I was clicking pictures. Soon, the entrance gate was opened, and a white government's car came out. The man in the back seat rolled his window and whispered something to the man who was standing, probably seeing him out. Within an instance, I realized who the man in the car was. He was the one who had raised the question about Miheer Rathore in the conference. My brain was processing the details when my phone rang. Baba.
I blinked, quickly turning my face before the SUV could spot me The moment I answered, my voice shifted. Soft. Warm. Familiar.
"Hello, baba."
"Hani. Kaisi hai tu? Tu theek to hai na wahan?" my father's voice echoed concern and care all at once.
(Hani. How are you? Are you fine there?)
She smiled, "Haan baba, sab theek hai. Jaipur mein rang bhi hai aur raaz bhi."
(Yes baba, everything is fine. Jaipur has both colours and secrets.)
"Hamesha ki tarah uljhanon mein ghusi rehti hai tu," he chuckled.
(Like always, you are still emerged into secrets.)
I was talking to baba when my eyes land on the figure in the kitchen.
"Pandit ji? Aaj aap inhe chai pila rahe hai?"
"Arey nahi Hani beta, chai maine banayi hai." It was the voice of a woman. Sharda Aunty. The woman, dressed in a peach silk saree and heavy gold earrings, smiled sweetly and turned to baba, giving a shy smile and showing a blush on her cheeks. With that, she left a bit dramatically.
"Ye deviji yahan kyun aayi thi, Baba?"
"Unke ghar cheeni khatam ho gyi thi, isliye yahan aayi thi. Issi bahane mujhe chai bhi pila di."
I narrowed my eyes. "Unke ghar ke saamne hai kiryana store. Cheeni mangne nahi, aapko taadne aayi thi."
"Tara, aise nahi kehete, achchi aurat hai Sharda ji."
"Ji? Oh hello! Poori Colony ko pata hai ki ye devi ji aap par dore daalti hai. 53 ki umar mein 30 ke bhi nahi lagte aap. Pata nahi kaise maintain karte ho khudko. Pehele koi agent to nahi the?"
"Laado, tere baba ka ye raaz to bachche bhi poochte hain." Panditji gleamed at his friend.
"Samjhaiye apne dost ko panditji. Itna bholaapan achcha nahi hota. Aur agar vo aurat dobara yahan dikhi na, toh kasam mujhe mere Kanha ki, isi mandir mein hi unhe dafan kar doongi!"
"Ram Ram Ram, Kali Maa chali hai Krishan ko poojne, Waqaar bhaii. Thoda to soch, pujarin hai tu, kaise seedha maarne ki baat karti hai."
"Toh, UP se hoon. Aarti nahi utaarni seekhi kisiki maine."
My smile faded as I looked out of the car window. The place was no longer defined by home, sweets, and laughter. The shadows were closing in. From the Foundation's isolated gates... to the old man with brown eyes. The car had now left and I was staring at the closed, golden gate, waiting for answers to the questions I couldn't even form properly. I looked at my watch, it was going to be noon in the next twenty minutes, but the weather was still pleasant so I thought to travelling to a nearby tourist spot, to atleast have a few good memories to show my future self and the people waiting back for me in that temple.
Thus, I drove to Rambagh Palace, four kilometers apart from the place I stood. Though I am not much into royalty, I like their architecture and the environment. People of various perspective sit together to have discussions on matters that raised interest in them. In that six minutes drive, I listened to the recent speech of our Principal Secretary, Mahakshi Raghavan. She was in an international conference on finance and trade. I will be lying if I deny the fact that I love her speech and confidence. From the day she has taken command, the world is shifting its opinion about India, going from a peaceful and calm country to the leader of roaring for the truth.
As I reached there, I saw the area being slightly crowded. Well, it was 21 degree Celsius here, a temperature ideal to tour the city. I entered the palace showing my thirty-rupees entry ticket. It was huge, like rally huge. A perfect blend of greenery and bricks. I clicked a few pictures of the finest spots and sent them to baba. To be honest, I am not a fan of clicking my own pictures. My gallery hardly has four photos of mine, save for two passport size ones and two others. Finding a good spot to sit, I heard a few men taking about the state politics. One of them was in his sixties and other felt quite younger, as compared to the former.
"Sahi kaha bhai, Rajasthan ko itna sundar aur prabhavshaali aaj tak nahi dekha. Miheer bhaisa ke bete to unse bhi achche mantri nikle."
(You are saying right, I have never seen Rajasthan such beautiful and influential. The son of Miheer is a even greater minister than him.)
"Suna hai apne Dungarpur mein ek nayi technology ki company khul rahi hai?"
(Have you heard that a new tech-company is opening its office in Dungarpur?)
"Batao, abhi tak wahi jila hi pichda hua tha, ab dekho, Abhiraj ji kitni mehnet kar rahe hai apne rajya ke liye."
(Look at it. Until now, it was the only underdeveloped district. Abhiraj is really working hard for his state.)
"Umm... namaste kaka, maine suna app logo ko baat karte hue, agar koi dikkat na ho to main bhi yahin baith jaun??" I interfered.
(Namaste uncle. I happened to overhear you all talking. If you don't mind, may I sit here as well?)
I KNOW, I KNOW, we shouldn't interfere like this but I couldn't help. Local men are the best source for any news...
However, two of them glared at me, but a third one asked, "Patrakaar ho kya aap beti?"
(Are you a reporter, child?)
I lied. "Nahi nahi kakaji, Political Science ki ek student hoon, second year."
(No, no, uncle. I am a Political Science major.)
At this, the two eased and began opening up with me. "Achcha laga jaankar ki tum politics mein interest rakhti ho, aajkal ki yuva peedhi to bas apne us rang birange camere wale app se fursat hi nahi leti."
(It's good to know you take an interest in politics. These days, the younger generation barely looks up from their colorful, camera-filled apps.)
I laughed, he was talking about Instagram.
"Aap log Miheer ji ki baat kar rahe the, Vo kon hai?"
(You all were talking about someone named Miheer, who is he?)
"Arey kamal hai, Rajasthan mein reheti ho, aur Miheer Rathore ko nahi jaanti?"
(Oh, that's surprising! You live in Rajasthan and yet you've never heard of Miheer Rathore?)
"Nahi kakaji, mein Agra mein pali badi hoon, abhi abhi hi yahan aayi hoon."
(No, Kaka ji. I was raised in Agra—I've only just arrived here.)
"Achcha, tabhi mein sochu, hamare neta ka naam to yahan ke panchion kobhi yaad hai. Miheer Rahore, vo hamare CM the, ab vo kursi unke bete sambhaalte hain."
(Ah, that explains it. I wondered—around here, even the birds know our leader's name. Miheer Rathore, he was our Chief Minister. Now, his son holds that seat.)
"The Matlab? Kya unhone Politics se resign de diya?"
( Was? Did he resign from politics?)
"Nahi beti, unki death ho chuki hai, baraha saal ho gye hume apna sabse pasandida neta khoye hue.." The elderly man had real sorrow on his face, as if he regretted something.
(No, dear... he passed away. It's been twelve years since we lost our most beloved leader.)
"Kaise?"
(How?)
"Badi laambi kahani hai, beech menahi bhagogi to hi bataunga."
(It's a long story. I'll only share it if you promise not to run away in the middle of it.)
I smiled, "Nahi bhagungi."
(No, I won't run.)
"Baees saal pehele, yaani 2003 mein, Miheer ji hamare CM bane, par usse peheli hi vo politics mein kadam rakh chuke the, 2000 mein unhone purani government ke khilaaf kayi naare lagaye, logon ko jaagruk kiya aur bas, janta unki gulaam ho gyi. 2002 mein hue elections mein vo opposition leader ke roop me chune gayi par sarkaar ke paanch saal pure hote, usse peheli hi unhone coal scam ka sach janta ke saamne rakha aur hamare Rajasthan mein emergency elections huye, aur vo CM chune gaye. Unka raj logon ko itna bhaya ki ko sabke pyaare Bhaisa ban gaye. Kabhi bhi shikayat ka mauka diya hi nahi hume, aisa lagne laga tha ki jaise khud Shree Ram rajya ko sambhaal rahe ho."
(Twenty-two years ago, in 2003, Miheer ji became our Chief Minister. But long before that, he had already stepped into politics. Back in 2000, he raised numerous slogans against the old government, awakening the people's consciousness, and soon the public became devoted followers of his cause. In the 2002 elections, he was chosen as the opposition leader, but before the five-year term of the government could end, he exposed the truth behind the coal scam to the people. This led to emergency elections in Rajasthan, and he was elected Chief Minister.
His rule so deeply impressed the people that he became everyone's beloved Bhaisa. He never gave anyone a chance to complain; it felt as if he himself was upholding the ideals of Shri Ram's kingdom. )
"Phir 2008 mein jab vo dubara elect hue, poore Jaipur mein mithai bati thi. Lekin iss baar, sarkaar mein kuch hi naye chehre nazar aaye, aur sabse zyada hairani ki baat thi ki Rajiv Chauhan, jo pehele opposition party se tha, usne Miheerji ki party join karli. Shuru mein to sabko gadbad lagi ki ye aadmi kuch galat karega par aisa juch nahi hua. Phir aaya July 2012, jab ye saamne aaya ki sarkaar ke pass kala dhan hai. Ye baat sabko ajeeb lagi, kai log to naraaz bhi hue ki sarkaar jhooti hai, par kahin na kahin sabko vishvas tha ki Miheer Rathore galat nahi ho sakte, isliye kisi ne bada hungama nahi kiya, lekin jab unke PA ne khud kaha ki sarkaar ke pass sachme kala dhan hai, to sab toot gye. Par Miheerjine bharosa dilaya ki vo sach sabke saamne layenge, aur jis din vo ye bata te.."
(Then in 2008, when he was re-elected, sweets were distributed all over Jaipur in celebration. But this time, only a few new faces appeared in the government. What surprised everyone the most was that Rajiv Chauhan, who had earlier belonged to the opposition party, had joined Miheer ji's party. At first, people were suspicious, thinking he might do something wrong—but nothing of the sort happened.
Then came July 2012, when news broke that the government possessed black money. This revelation shocked everyone; many were angry, accusing the government of lying. Yet, deep down, people believed that Miheer Rathore could not be wrong, so there was no major uproar. But when his own personal assistant confessed that the government indeed held black money, it shattered everyone's trust. Yet, Miheer ji reassured them that he would bring the truth to light, and the day he would reveal it... )
"..uss din unhe maar diya gaya." I completed. And those four men nodded, all in sorrow by now.
(He was killed that day.)
"Par ye sab na, gudiya, thoda ajeeb laga. Jaise maarne wala koi hardliner nahi, ek khooni hi ho, jaise ki matlab unka murder jaan bhoojh kar kiya gaya vo. Tum khud hi socho, tum kuch bohot zaroori baat batane se peheli hi maar di jao, to kya much galat nahi lagega?"
(But all this, dear, felt rather strange. It wasn't the work of a mere hardliner—it seemed like the act of a cold-blooded killer, as if the murder had been carried out with deliberate intent. Just think about it yourself: if you're killed before you can reveal something truly important, wouldn't that seem deeply wrong?)
"Baat to aap sahi kehe rahein hai kakaji. Phir Miheer sahab ke marne ke baad, CM unke bete, Abhiraj ko banaya jaata hai, sab senior party members ko side mein rakhkar, ye bhi ajeeb hi baat lagti hai. Mera matlab, Abhiraj ji to businessman aadmi the na, fir aisa achanak raajneeti mein entry.."
(You make a valid point, uncle. After Miheer's passing, his son Abhiraj was made the Chief Minister, sidelining all the senior party members. It all seemed rather strange. I mean, Abhiraj was a businessman, wasn't he? So how did he make such a sudden entry into politics?)
"Samajh rahein hai hum aapki uljhan bitiya, par ye galat mat sochiye. Abhiraj ji tp apne baap ke andhbhakt the, bilkul jaisa aaj unka khud ka beta hai. Baapne agar kaha hai ki ye cheez galat hai, to tab tak saans nahi lete the jab tak usse sahi na kar de. Par aapka vichaar bhi jayaz hai, kursi unhe hi kyon mili.."
(I understand your confusion, dear, but don't misunderstand. Abhiraj ji was utterly devoted to his father—just like his own son is today. If his father said something was wrong, he wouldn't rest until he set it right. But your doubt is fair—why was the seat given to him, after all?)
This time, the fourth one spoke, "..kyonki uss time sab yahi soch rahe the ki agar khoon hua hai to kisne kiya, iss chakkar mein sab ek dusre par ungli utha rahe the. Phir party ke leader ne faisla sunaya ki Abhiraj kursi sambhaale. Sabko ajeeb laga, ek vilayat padha hua businessman bhala CM kaise banaya jaye, par hamare Abhiraj ne un sabko galat saabit kar diya. Itni achchi tarah sambhala hai hamare Rajasthan ko ki hum sochte hai ki agar kisi aur ko CM banate to hamara kya hota. Par abhi bhi kuch log hain jo unka naam kharab karne mein hi lage rehte hain. Yaad hai Chandpol wali rally, Neel bhaisa?"
(At that time, everyone was wondering—if there was bloodshed, then who was responsible? Fingers were being pointed in every direction. Then, the party leader announced that Abhiraj would take the reins. It felt strange to many—how could a foreign-educated businessman become Chief Minister? But our Abhiraj proved them all wrong. He managed Rajasthan so well that we often wonder what would have happened if someone else had taken charge. Yet, even now, there are those who waste their time tarnishing his name. Remember the rally at Chandpol, Neel Bhaisa?)
"Haan bhai, yaad hai. Jaanti ho beti, chaar mahine pehele Abhiraj ki rally thi Chandpol mein, vahan Ravindra Yadav naam ke ek aadmi ne chilla chilla kar bola, 'Jhoot bol rahe ho Abhiraj Rathore! Tumhare baap ne bhi hum sab ko dhoka diya tha, aur tum bhi wahi kar rahe ho.'
(Yes, brother, I remember. You know, kid, just four months ago there was a rally at Chandpol where a man named Ravindra Yadav shouted at the top of his lungs, 'You're lying, Abhiraj Rathore! Your father deceived us all, and now you're doing the same.')
I frowned as if processing a shock. "Unhone aisa bola? Itne logon ke saamne?"
(He said that? In front of so many people?)
"Haan," said the first man, leaning in now, fully in storytelling mode.
(Yes)
"Police ne usse turant pakad liya. Crowd mein thoda hungama bhi hua. CM ne us waqt kuch nahi bola—sirf stage chhod diya. Bina speech ke chale gaye."
(The police immediately caught him. There was a bit of commotion among the crowd. The Chief Minister said nothing at the time—he simply left the stage without delivering a speech.)
I furrowed her brow thoughtfully. "Phir? Us Ravindra Yadav ka kya hua?"
(Then, what happened to that Ravindra Yadav?)
Silence.
"Wahi toh," the second man said darkly. "Ek hafte tak to sab news wale bhi chilla rahe the. Par phir... chup. Na police ne kuch bataya, na kisi ne follow-up kiya. Aurat kehti hai ki woh toh gaon wapas gaya, par koi saboot nahi."
(Exactly..) (For a whole week, the news was shouting about it nonstop. But then... silence. Neither the police said a word, nor did anyone follow up. The woman claims he went back to the village, but there's no proof.)
"Kehne wale kehte hain... ya toh usne kuch aisa dekh liya tha jo usse nahi dekhna chahiye tha..."
(People say... he must have seen something he wasn't meant to see.)
"...ya usse chup karwa diya gaya."
(Or he was silenced.)
My fingers clenched inside the dupatta.
But I forced my voice to stay calm. "Par unka naam toh news mein officially nahi aaya na? Matlab koi complaint bhi file nahi hui?"
(But their name never officially appeared in the news, right? Meaning, no complaint was ever filed?)
"Aayi thi, par usme kuch nahi tha. Bas dharna-bazi karne ka case. Par pata hai... kuch log kehte hain ki Ravindra pehle kisi government ke contract mein tha."
(A complaint was filed, but there was nothing substantial—just a case of mere protest. But you know... some say Ravindra was once involved in a government contract.)
My mind whirred. "Kaunse contract?"
(What contract?)
"Dharma Foundation ka naam suna hai, vahi jisne paanch nayi wildlife sancturies ko fund kiya tha Miheer ki government ne? Yadav hi to unka contractor tha, aur vahan jo flower ugta hai, kya naam tha uska... umm... Mritunjay Kamal, vahi to transport karta hai pharma company ko. Humne to ye bhi suna hai ki bandook vagehra bhi bechta tha vo aadmi. Kuch log to ye bhi maante hai ki jis aadmi ne hamare neta ko maara, uska uthna baithna tha Ravindra ke saath. Miheerji ko shayad uske baare mein kuch pata hoga, par iski khabar shayd uss Yadav ko ho gyi thi."
(Have you heard of the Dharma Foundation? The very same that funded five new wildlife sanctuaries under Miheer's government? Yadav was their contractor, and that flower they grow there—what was it called... Mritunjay Kamal? He's the one who transports it to the pharma company. We've even heard that the man used to deal in firearms and such. Some even believe that the person who killed our leader was closely associated with Ravindra. Perhaps Miheer ji knew something about it, but it seems Yadav found out too.)
I looked at the man, my heart pounding as he unknowingly confirmed what I had begun to suspect.
"Aur usne socha ki public ke saamne sab bol dega..." the other continued.
(And he thought he would reveal everything in front of the public...)
"Par politics mein sach bolne waale ya toh hero ban jaate hain... ya chup kara diye jaate hain."
(But in politics, those who speak the truth either become heroes... or they are silenced.)
I sat still. The wind passed gently through my straight hair, but I didn't feel it.
I had come here looking for whispers—and instead found the echo of a scream that had been silenced.
AUTHOR'S POV
It was three in the afternoon and a man was sitting on his sleek black leather chair, his eyes focused on the paperwork infront of him. At the top left of that page, was a blue coloured printed VASR, in all capital, and bold with a slight cursive font. On the bottom right was some space and printed under it, in all black letters was a name- SHIVAAY SINGH RATHORE, CHIEF FINANCIAL OFFICER. He signed the page and turned to the next file.
But this time, there was a knock to disturb his concentration. His secretary, Lakshay stepped in, without even waiting for the permission from his boss.
"Sir, Inspector Veer is here. He has some updates on CM Sir's security personnel. States that he is unreachable and the update needs verification before the next rally."
But his boss didn't look up, and replied with a short nod and a let him come. The officer entered, all composed, all formal. Here, he was an Inspector, not an ally to the man sitting infront of him.
"Sir, these are the updated coordination, positions and changes in the security the CM Sir needs before the Udaipur rally. Three commandos have been replaced and the core four are given updated weapons this time. We doubt Sir will need them as Udaipur is currently a sensitive area."
"Hmm.. I'll inform dad, but Veer, don't come here like this. People are fast to judge authorities and power."
"Understood. Also, I think this may need your attention."
"Proceed."
Veer took a step forward, looking around for anyone present, an involuntarily muscle action and then began, "As per your orders, one of my spy is watching on Hanitra, and today he has informed me that the lady is having a quite amusing tour of the city, first visiting the outskirts of Dharma Foundation and then, she went to Rambagh Palace, but the girl had more talk than tour there. She sat with four locals, all verified, and had, well very grave conversation on Miheer Sir and the CM and a few lines of their relations with Ravindra. Also, she told them she is a Political Science second year- major."
At this, Shivaay snapped his head upward, meeting the gaze of the officer only third time since he entered.
"What? second year?"
"Yes, Pol. Science student-"
"No. No she's not. Hanitra is a journalism student."
Veer nodded. "Exactly."
There was a brief silence. The polished hum of the air conditioning filled the gap. Shivaay's eyes were now unreadable.
"Then why would she lie?" Veer was the first to speak as Shivaay was consumed in mental theories.
"If I knew the answer, do you think I would question you like this?"
"Oh yeah, the ever-knowing Shivaay Rathore, the man who can even map the RAW finally has something he doesn't know." He sang in like a poem
"Whatever, Sehrawat. For now, leave. It's your reporting time soon, the DGP won't like his favourite Inspector to be late."
"Kyun, do I bore you this soon Mr. Rathore?" The other one chuckled
As the officer left, not without a teasing smirk, Shivaay sunk in his chair, buring himself in thoughts that sound distractingly dangerous.
"Ye ladki aakhir dhoondh kya rahi hai? Jabse aayi hai, sabko nachaane mein lagi hai."
(What exactly is this girl looking for? Ever since she arrived, she's had everyone dancing to her tune.)
Without further thought, he dialed the man who knew Hanitra better than anyone- the Education Minister of UP. However in an answer, he got just two sentences.
"She doesn't lie easily Shivaay and now that he has, the truth is much darker that she needs to go untracked. Find what she searches before her. Agar uske haath kuch laga na Shivaay, vo tujhe zinda jala sakti hai."
(If she gets her hands on something, Shivaay, she could burn you alive.)
The air was unusually still that morning. As if the city itself was holding its breath.
At 4:17 AM, three black SUVs slipped past the last traffic signal on the outer Jaipur bypass, headlights dimmed, plates scrambled. Inside each car, four men sat—silent, focused. These were not just any men. They were the ghosts of Sapphire, specially trained ones. The mission was to blow off someone completely but with fewer or no traces.
I, Shivaay Rathore sat in the front seat of the last vehicle, the one that took a different route from the first three, hair tied back, face unreadable. I was dressed in a plain black tactical hoodie with a concealed vest under it. No emblems, no tags. Only these eyes carried weight.
Kritanjay was to my right, recalibrating the signal jammer—his eyes flitting from code to live satellite interference streams, sipping his black coffee to avoid sleep, the very thing he has been for the past four days. And if you ask the reason, he is reviewing the tech project meant for an Indo-Israel collaboration. As always, the Lethal Queen of India is handling the charge, so the first draft has to be in its finest form, or she will eat you and your existence in an instance. But that man was still composed. Afterall, the draft was to be mailed, and not meet that nuclear threat face to face.
"Tujhe kya hua hai Shivaay? You seem tensed."
(What has happened to you Shivaay?)
"Nothing bro, just the regular concerns- Dad, the Assembly and this idiot."
"Chal, aaj ek tension to kam hogi. You'll have a deeper sleep."
(Well, that's one less worry for today.)
As we two marched towards the Achrol Fort, an abandoned one, near the farthest corner of Amer, our ear devices connected to the second team- Dhairya and Vivaan, who were assigned to get the data chip as well as control the news of his death in Uttar Pradesh, they have to buy silence, spread a narrative, or neutralize threats before they start speaking.
The target wasn't just another gang or a traitor—it was Ravindra Yadav, a weapons financier who had been double-dealing Sapphire tech to rival underworld factions. Worse, he was about to leak Sapphire's encrypted transport routes at the upcoming Mafia Assembly.
"He dies," I had said the night before. "But not a single whisper. No noise. No trace."
This was personal. This was necessary.
Yadav and Sapphire shared a history.
Ravindra Yadav wasn't always an enemy. In fact, four years ago, he was a minor associate in Sapphire's external arms distribution network—not high-ranking, but crucial. He helped Sapphire push controlled shipments across Rajasthan, Gujarat, and UP borders discreetly, earning massive profits while enjoying Sapphire's protection.
I and Kritanjay didn't trust him fully, but we used him because he was resourceful and had deep rural and military contacts.
Things started going sour two years ago when Ravindra began hoarding extra stock, forging reports, and even testing experimental weapons without Sapphire's permission. Worse, he secretly partnered with a rival bio-arms outfit—a corrupt pharma-military coalition. He was lured by the idea of becoming a power center himself, no longer answering to Sapphire.
But the real betrayal?
He leaked coded info about Sapphire's logistics routes to foreign middlemen—people Sapphire had blacklisted. One of those routes led to a minor bust in Punjab, costing Sapphire three undercover agents and blowing a front company.
When Kritanjay tracked a partial digital footprint back to Ravindra's ID during a cyber sweep, we didn't act immediately. We waited. Watched. And what we found?
Ravindra had recorded multiple confidential deals, including a camera snippet from one of Shivaay's silent trade meets. He planned to use this for blackmail, or worse—to sell Sapphire out before the Mafia Assembly, offering himself as a bargaining chip to Sapphire's rivals.
He wasn't just a traitor.
He was a loaded weapon pointed at Sapphire's heart.
And it felt personal because I felt responsible— I'd personally brought Ravindra into the outer circle years ago. Kritanjay, furious about the data theft, wanted Ravindra erased. Dhairya was clear: if Ravindra showed up at the Assembly before them with that information, Sapphire's structure would collapse.
So, this wasn't just about silencing a threat.
This was about cleaning house before the world watched.
AUTHOR'S POV
The Entry
The Jaipur convoy halted three kilometers from the compound—an old fort, now repurposed as a "dry goods warehouse" but monitored closely for suspicious nighttime activity.
Kritanjay muttered, "SS5 has rerouted surveillance drones for 6 minutes. That's our window. After that, we are dark."
They moved on foot through the thorny outskirts, scaling one side of the fence that had been corroded by Kritanjay's modified acid-drip patches. At the back entrance, Lakshay knocked thrice, waited, then three more times—signaling the embedded insider, who had disabled internal cams for seven minutes.
"They always underestimate internal rot," K. whispered from the Bluetooth device.
"Until we become it," Shivaay murmured, stepping inside.
In Kanpur at the same time, the two other members were handling the second part of the mission.
At an old haveli now disguised as a "public heritage office," Dhairya was tightening the last screw on a silencer. Vivaan leaned against a stone pillar, flipping through the target dossier with a penlight.
"The bastard's flight leaves for Italy tonight," D. said. "He's already sent a copy of the leak to an intermediary."
"Intercept the courier. Kill the deal," Vivaan said. "The Jaipur side has to end his source. We end the handoff."
They looked at each other. This wasn't just about Ravindra anymore. His leak had named Sapphire. That alone made him a priority threat. However, the first destination had no significant information to seize, save for a tall courier that moved with a steel briefcase. Vivaan stalked him like a shadow while Dhairya hacked into the platform's camera system from a nearby closed chai tapri.
"Two minutes till he boards," Dhairya muttered. "You good?"
Vivaan nodded. "Better than him."
He intercepted the courier at the door. "ID, please."
The man laughed. "I don't need—"
He didn't finish. Vivaan snapped his wrist, snatched the briefcase, and shoved a paralytic injection into the courier's neck. In ten seconds, he was unconscious.
The bag was opened silently — inside, a mini hardcase drive, wrapped in linen cloth and tagged as 'Rajasthan Report Archive 3.'
Vivaan's brows lifted. "He was sending data... cultural archive was the cover."
"No way this was going to a museum," Dhairya muttered.
Vivaan checked his watch. "On to Phase Two."
He took the bag and both left in hurry for the second destination.
The Operation
Inside, it was clinical. Two guards neutralized without gunfire. Bodies stashed, alarms looped. The three of us stepped from the western side, the area that, as per the blueprint, will lead to a compound that further led to two corridors, two guards protecting each one.
The guns holstered, blade hidden. Not a single sound followed as the three made their way to the west-side fence, to reach that compound. It peeled open like a zipper—Kritanjay's handiwork.
They found two guards drinking behind the generator room.
"Non-lethal?" Kritanjay asked, not sounding hopeful.
"Do you see the Assembly date?" Shivaay replied.
He struck fast. The guards never saw their blood.
Inside the compound, papers were being shredded in the centre, where a huge table lied, and to its east and west, were those corridors. They were too late by minutes. But not too late to stop the source.
The three split into two teams—Lakshay and Shivaay on the north wing, looking for Yadav. Kritanjay and two other guards heading for the server room to retrieve intel and destroy evidence, if there was any, in the Jaipur side of the mission.
Kanpur, same time
The clock struck 02:43 a.m.
Vivaan and Dhairya—two wolves in suits—slipped past the iron gates of a farmhouse on the outskirts, tucked behind mango orchards and shielded by two boundary walls, posing as a disused warehouse. . The signal they'd traced from Ravindra's cloud-uploaded data had pinged this location just twelve hours ago. A mail — titled "Lifeboat 3 – to be opened in emergency only" — had been sent. The structure had links to Ravindra Yadav, the arms dealer who had crossed the line.
Not just any line.
A line that put Sapphire's existence at risk.. They were dressed not like criminals but like officers of silence. Dhairya's watch buzzed once.
"Camera disabled. We're in," Vivaan whispered, as he stepped over a fallen leaf like it could betray them.
"Positions?" came Shivaay's voice over the encrypted Sapphire line.
"Kanpur team is in," Vivaan confirmed.
"South rooftop, Jaipur team synced," Kritanjay muttered, loading a silencer onto his modified Glock, as he marched towards the server room, opposite to the side where Ravindra was..
Dhairya, watching through thermal on his iPad, marked the targets: three inside the farmhouse. Two guards. One- the aide of Ravindra Yadav, one of the prominent local newspaper journalist.
"You sure he's not already shifted?" Vivaan questioned.
"No," Dhairya said sharply. "He wouldn't miss the payment transfer from that bio-ops deal. That's tonight."
They silently entered through a rear shutter. Inside the warehouse, crates of medical equipment were stacked high—but their contents weren't medication. It was ammunition laced with experimental compounds—proof of Ravindra's betrayal and alliance with enemies of Sapphire.
Vivaan slid behind a pillar as one guard walked past. A quick blow to the throat—clean, breathless, body dragged silently. Dhairya followed suit with a taser needle from five feet away. No noise. No alerts.
"No more guards," The latter noted.
Vivaan didn't relax. "That doesn't mean there's no protection."
They moved in through the side orchard, bypassing motion sensors with a shield jammer Kritanjay had modified for them. Within four minutes, they reached the southern veranda.
Inside the French-glass doors, Arunima Sen sat at an old table, her fingers paused mid-typing. The air was dense with incense and unfinished conversations. A tablet blinked quietly beside her.
She looked up, and for the briefest moment, she smiled.
"You're not Ravindra," she said coolly.
"No," Dhairya stepped in, gun low, steady. "He's no longer receiving visitors."
Arunima's face didn't change, but her hand moved — ever so slightly — toward the side of the table.
Vivaan was quicker.
Thup. The dart hissed through the air, catching her upper shoulder.
She gasped softly. "You—"
"Relax," Vivaan said coldly. "It's paralytic, not fatal. You'll wake up in hundred and twenty minutes with just enough stiffness to remind you that we gave you a chance."
Arunima slumped slightly, conscious but unable to move.
"No blood," Dhairya confirmed. "Good."
Vivaan moved toward the desk, collecting the tablet, hardcopy notes, and a voice recorder hidden in her shawl. Then, he lifted a small envelope labeled 'Cloud Credentials – RED'. Jackpot.
Dhairya gave the area a final sweep.
One of Arunima's associates — a man with a wireless headset — had tried to flee through the kitchen. They'd neutralized him earlier with a tranquilizer. Another one never moved — perhaps a decoy.
Within ten minutes, the room was stripped, no trace left. Arunima, now unconscious, was loaded into the SUV with care. It was a clean sweep.
Jaipur.
Shivaay's voice came again. "Target not here. But files are. Jay, pull all drives and backups. Burn the rest."
The plan suddenly changed slightly. It wasn't just about neutralizing Ravindra—it was about erasing every single trace he ever knew about Sapphire.
Suddenly, the five heard gunshots, they were from Kritnajay's side.
"Jay, what happened? We hear gunshots." Dhairya was the first to ask.
"Shit... Fuck... How could I not see..."
"JAY. What's happening there, damn it?" Shivaay hissed with gritted teeth.
"Ravindra is here, in the Server room, he knows we are here."
"Fifteen Seconds, hang there. We are coming. "
And Shivaay reached there in twelve seconds, his gun now loaded again. As the cameras were blacked, Ravindra couldn't see them, but he could sense their presence. So he had himself locked inside.
Kritanjay stood outside, crouched behind a half-collapsed pillar, pistol cocked. A body lay nearby—one of Yadav's private men. Dead. Not bleeding. Good.
"Why didn't you wait for backup?" Shivaay snapped.
"I didn't shoot first. They did," Krit. replied, eyes trained on the door at the far end. "Server's locked. He's inside. I heard him call someone before it jammed."
"Who?" Shivaay demanded.
"Didn't catch it. But it's not just backup. He's trying to trigger something in there."
The Rathore cursed under his breath.
"Guard count?" Lakshay asked.
"No idea." Kritanjay said under his breath, " but maybe six. I only saw six guns shooting from the room. And the bastard's standing just behind the door. Probably waiting to blow us open the moment we enter."
Shivaay nodded and then turned to his guards, all alive, all unharmed. "Listen carefully everyone. The assembly is announced. Leave no traces, no blood, no DNA, nothing. Lakshay, stay hidden here, with three guards, if someone comes in or goes out, shoot."
The man nodded and the other two, with two guards, stepped near the door of the server room. Shivaay motioned. One of the guards stepped forward, setting up a blast muffler charge—a small sonic device, engineered by Kritanjay's black tech team. It wouldn't leave scorched walls or alert vibrations across the structure. But it would collapse the door lock mechanism without burning circuits.
A soft beep. Green light.
"Three seconds," the guard whispered.
Shivaay raised two fingers, lips tight. "Everyone," he ordered, "Prepare to intercept. Stun only if required. No gunpowder. No mess."
They nodded.
Then—a thunderous metallic gasp. The door flew open, not off its hinges but disarmed and violently shoved by Shivaay himself, his boot crashing through as the bolts released.
What greeted them was not chaos, but a carefully drawn formation of eight men, weapons raised. And at the center, Ravindra Yadav, staring at them calmly. He didn't flinch. He knew who they were. More importantly, he knew what was about to happen.
"You're late," he said.
"And you're arrogant," Shivaay replied, stepping in, Kritanjay flanking his right.
The guards were trained. They didn't open fire. That was their mistake.
In four seconds, two of them dropped—paralysis darts from Kritanjay's sleeve knocked them down before they could move. Another reached for a trigger but was instantly neutralized by a baton strike to the neck. It was not a shootout, it was a manhunt in a box.
Ravindra Yadav moved then—toward a wall-mounted control panel.
Shivaay caught it instantly.
"Krit—override the panel. He's trying to upload something!"
But it was too late. Yadav pressed it.
"Too slow, Shivaay," he said with a smirk. "Everything's in the cloud now."
Kritanjay shot forward, tearing down the panel wires, yanking out the hard port before the full data uplink could run. Sparks flew, but the screen froze mid-progress.
"Half the data is gone," Krit muttered, furious.
"No. It's with Vivaan and Dhairya," Shivaay replied coldly, "This was just a decoy upload."
Yadav chuckled again, wiping the corner of his mouth. "Your team's good. But the ghosts in your past are better."
And then he whispered a single name:
"Subha."
Shivaay stilled.
The guards were unconscious or detained, the room now quiet. Only the blinking of the mainframe lights reflected in the sharp cut of Shivaay's jaw.
"Bag him," he told Kritanjay.
"What? You want to take him?" Krit asked.
"No," Shivaay said. "I want to watch him go down with every last file he tried to leak."
Kritanjay understood instantly. The two of them stepped back. Their cleanup team entered. They would erase every byte, every breath of what happened here.
As the guards dragged Yadav to the corner, he spoke again.
"Kill me now, and you still won't silence her. She's smarter than any of you. She's building something none of you can burn."
Shivaay didn't blink.
"I'm not here to burn," he said, "I'm here to bury."
A single suppressed shot later, Ravindra Yadav fell.
Lucknow and Jaipur operations synced out at exactly 03:37 a.m.
Four boys. Two cities.
One name erased from existence.
And the countdown to the Assembly had begun.
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