Chapter 21: Decorations and Debris

The lights of the Juhu club shimmered like a galaxy trapped under chandeliers. Opulence painted every inch-gold, velvet, wine, and secrets. And in the middle of that chaos walked Riya Mukherjee.

Under the dim lights, Riya moved like grace bottled in silk. A small clutch in hand, heels echoing softly against marble floors, eyes alert yet easy.

Her earpiece was subtly tucked in, the ETF trio's voices in her ears.

“You’re in. Go slow, scan, blend in.” Shree’s voice echoed calmly.

“Don’t let your pulse give you away.” Chotu added in his mock-threatening tone.

Arjun stayed silent.

Riya smiled softly. “Relax, boys. I’ve watched more Bond films than you all combined.”

Inside, eyes turned. Heads tilted. She was hard to ignore. But she didn’t break stride- reaching the poker table like she belonged there.

Table 7. Right next to the bar.

Round one: She played and lost. On purpose.

“Clever,” Shree muttered.

Round two: She raised the stakes. This time, she won- enough to draw attention, but not suspicion. Her real goal? A conversation at the bar, where she'd overheard murmurs of the ‘BIGGER and BETTER’ backroom gambling.

She slid into the conversation as if she’d always been there- casual, calculating, warm.

And that’s when the music stopped.

Or at least, it felt like that when Nikhil Khanna, the owner, entered the room.

Early 30s, tailored blazer, clean-shaven, the smile of a shark and the eyes of a man used to owning everything he looked at.

His gaze swept the room. Handshakes and hugs with the guests, he knew each face there and just a moment later, his eyes locked on Riya.

“New face!” he said, walking over casually, drink in hand. “Either I’ve had too much whiskey or Mumbai finally delivered something fresh.”

Riya turned to him with a half-smile. “Or maybe your guest list isn’t as exclusive as you think.”

The men at the bar laughed. Nikhil’s smile twitched- impressed.

But wary.

So, he asked questions- subtle, aristocratic ones. About poker clubs, polo tournaments, South African vineyards, diamonds, rare antique art. A normal girl would’ve fumbled.

But Riya?

She answered with ease.

After all, she didn’t have to pretend. She was one of them- born into the same circles, raised with champagne in crystal and French tutors. She just didn’t flaunt it.

“Damn,” Shree whispered through the mic. “She’s handling this better than any of us would.”

“Who is she?” Arjun muttered under his breath.

He knew she was trained. But this grace… this class… this ease with darkness dressed as velvet- it left him uncomfortably curious.

Nikhil, now intrigued but convinced, gestured towards the private area.

“Play one more round. My table. New Guest privileges.”

Riya smiled and nodded, excusing herself for a moment to freshen up.

Her voice in the mic, soft and composed: “Got enough to confirm the laundering room. Exits clear. Do I go in?”

“Wait,” Arjun finally spoke. “Only if it feels clean. One sign of trouble, you walk, OUT!”

“Copy that.” Riya's tone was playful. “Do I get a medal if I win?”

A pause. And then Arjun, said dryly, “You get to keep your job.”

--

Thousands of kilometres away, the military camp in Leh was alive with hustle and bustle. In a modest hall, lined with officers and silent salutes, Kabir stood in his olive-green uniform- modest in posture, mischief flickering beneath his respectful gaze.

Major General Verma pinned the rank on his shoulder- gold glinting in the sunlight.

“Major Kabir,” the General said, smiling, “your bravery during the recent operation- exceptional. Your strategies saved lives. I salute your courage.”

Applause filled the room.

Kabir smiled, his usual smirk more sincere today. As the applause faded, someone from the side leaned in.

“Whom should we inform first, Major? Family? Someone? Anyone?”

Kabir paused.

Images raced through his mind- gunfire, explosions, silence… and then her laugh, the way she used to wrinkle her nose when teasing him.

He smiled.

“Yes… there’s someone, my only family!” Kabir said softly, a rare seriousness in his eyes.

The officer beside him raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Your wife?”

Kabir chuckled. “Would-be. Hopefully. I’m campaigning harder than a politician in elections!”

The General laughed and gave his shoulder a firm pat. “Then go tell her, Major. Let her know she’s officially dating a decorated one now.”

Kabir smirked. “Sir, that might just get me killed. She’s going to strangle me first for not inviting her here.”

They all laughed.

“Ah, love,” the General said, shaking his head.

Kabir grinned. “Love, sir? It’s the only war I’m willingly losing.”

--

Riya walked into the luxurious private chamber, flanked with exquisite curtains, underlit tables, and dim chandeliers giving off a smoky glow. Nikhil Khanna held the door open for her, flashing his most charming smile- the kind that usually worked. But Riya’s spine stiffened.

The door closed behind them.

“You know,” Nikhil said, pouring himself a drink, “it’s rare for someone to walk into my club and surprise me. You’re like an unsolved riddle, beautiful, Miss…?”

Riya smiled lightly, sitting down at the poker table. “Reva works. Though I’m not quite sure what I did to deserve that compliment.”

He chuckled. “Simply walked into my club and turned heads. That doesn’t happen often, sweetheart.”

Outside, in the ETF surveillance van, Arjun’s fingers curled around his seat.

“Control your tone, Nikhil.” He muttered; unaware he was speaking aloud.

Shree and Chotu looked over.

Arjun’s eyes glued to the feed on screen, now lit again. Riya sat poised, bracelet-camera capturing everything- Nikhil’s face, the soft murmur of his voice, and most importantly- his arrogance.

He grinned. “Mysterious and beautiful. Dangerous combo. You must have broken a few hearts.”

“None I didn’t return in one piece,” she replied.

Already down bad, Nikhil now began showing off. Boasting about his investments, holiday homes, politicians on his speed dial, his humongous wealth- unaware Riya was silently capturing every second.

Outside in the SUV, Arjun was leaning forward, eyes glued to the monitor. “We have enough visual. Keep your bracelet facing him, Riya, for one last time. And then move! This is enough to drag him into the ETF interrogation room.”

Shree smirked. “I have to admit. She’s good.”

Arjun’s jaw tightened as Nikhil leaned closer to Riya over the table.

“You know,” he said, sliding a glass of champagne towards her, “I’ve met a lot of rich women. But they flaunt their wealth. You… you carry it.”

Riya smirked. “Some things can’t be bought. Class is one of them.”

That earned a low chuckle from Shree through the mic. Even Chotu mumbled, “Nice one.”

But Arjun- he didn’t laugh. His eyes hadn’t left the screen. Nikhil’s hand casually touched Riya’s arm, and she pulled her hand back.

“She needs to get out of there,” he said sharply into the mic.

“Riya, back off. That’s an order. LEAVE!”

But just then-

The signal froze. And Riya hadn’t heard a word of what Arjun had just barked into the channel.

“What the hell?!”, Arjun snapped.

Shree slammed the monitor, trying to reconnect.

“The camera’s dead. We’ve lost visuals.”

Arjun’s heart pounded. The last image frozen on screen was Nikhil leaning in- too close.

Arjun stood up abruptly. “She should have listened. I told her to back off- dammit!”

Arjun stood up. “Call her. NOW.”

“No response.” Shree tried again. “Audio’s out too.”

“We wait two more minutes- then we’re going in.”

Arjun’s fists were clenched. He couldn’t breathe.

Inside, however, Riya had shifted subtly. And in that careless second, her earpiece slipped, tumbling towards the floor. Her pulse spiked, but she moved instinctively, crossing one leg over the other and pinning the tiny device beneath her heel before Nikhil could notice.

He leaned closer, testing the space between them, but Riya met his gaze with eyes that flashed steel- daring him to try.

“I don’t mix business with pleasure, Mr.Khanna.”

“Oh! Come on…” He leaned forward, only to find himself subtly pushed back with the heel of her stiletto under the table.

Just then, Nikhil’s phone rang and his eyes sparkled reading the name of the caller.

“They are here! I’ll be back! Want you to meet my special guest! Give me a minute!”, he walked out of the room, leaving behind a curious Riya.

--

Meanwhile, 36,000 feet in the air…

Kabir was on his second flight of the day- from Delhi to Mumbai- his head full of thoughts, his heart already at Riya’s door, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, a bright blue gift bag resting between his feet with a small gift- a silver compass pendant engraved with their initials- “RK” and a note: “For when your heart forgets the way. Love will bring you home.”

He pulled out his phone to check Riya’s last text.

“Going in.. As 007.”

“Drama queen.”

He had just leaned back when a gruff voice interrupted, “You’re in my seat!”

Kabir looked up to see a man in his late 30s or maybe, early 40s- broad-shouldered, sharply dressed, annoyed, a no-nonsense face that looked like it hadn’t smiled since the Emergency.

“It’s the window seat, boss. Not Buckingham Palace,” Kabir quipped, but shifted anyway.

They sat in silence for the next ten minutes.

And then it began.

Kabir tapped his fingers on the shared armrest, absently-minded, stressed about Riya. The man moved his elbow- firmly claiming it.

Kabir grinned and did it again.

“Young man,” the man finally said. “There are rules.”

Kabir leaned in, whispering like he was revealing a secret. “I only follow two- eat well, and annoy people who look annoyed.”

The man glared.

“Could you stop bouncing your leg?” the man huffed and asked.

“Could you stop breathing so dramatically?” Kabir countered.

“Move! You’re occupying the entire armrest.”

“You’re occupying the entire atmosphere with that grump.”

The stranger groaned. “Is this how young men behave these days?”

Kabir turned dramatically. “Yes. Especially charming, devastatingly handsome young men who are forced to sit next to grumpy, annoying old men.”

Kabir laughed, shaking his head. “Classic uncle energy.”

“What do you do, when you’re not being a pain in someone’s a**?”

“Fun,” Kabir said vaguely, biting into a chocolate bar. “And you? Teach people how to frown for a living?”

“Discipline. Something your generation lacks.”

“Respect. Something your generation demands without earning.”

They glared at each other.

Kabir folded the wrapper of his chocolate dramatically.

The man sighed. “This is going to be a long flight.”

“Not for me,” Kabir winked. “I’m used to surviving missions with angry old men.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Spoiled. Immature. Aimless.”

Kabir gave a bright smile. “And you’re probably the guy who writes grumpy Yelp reviews about hotel pillows.”

Silence.

“Let’s make this simple.” The man said, adjusting his neck pillow. “You don’t speak. I don’t smother you with this newspaper.”

Kabir yawned. “Oh! I thought you could do better!”

By the time the flight landed, the entire crew was aware of the two men’s bickering war.

When they landed, the man grabbed his briefcase and stormed off.

“If I ever meet him again…”, he huffed, walking out of the airplane.

A crew member whispered to another.

“Who was that guy?”

The second attendant said quietly, “ACP Sameer Rathore. Mumbai Police”

The first one blinked.

“And the other?”

“God knows!”

--

The velvet-wrapped silence of the private poker room hung heavy.

Riya stared at the door Nikhil had just exited, his promise still echoing in her ear:

“I want you to meet someone… a very special guest.”

Her fingers twitched.

The clock ticked in Riya’s mind louder than the jazz playing in the background.

The moment she was sure that he was gone, she bent slightly, retrieving the earpiece. Sliding it back into place, she sighed in relief.

She looked at her bracelet cam- still blinking.

She adjusted the ear piece too, a faint white light, suggesting it was functioning too. But before she could know that she had lost contact with her team, the private lounge door creaked open, and a waiter stepped in. “Ma’am, Mr. Khanna sent me. He asked me to take good care of you while he is with his guests. Is there anything you want?”

Riya refused politely.

The mention of guests tugged at her curiosity. What if this was the very link they were looking for?

Her jaw tightened.

“I didn’t come this far to chicken out now.”

She stood at crossroads. Leave now and stay safe, or push forward- and prove she wasn’t just a pretty face in this mission. She had seen enough already- money laundering, arms trade hints, shady whispers- but this “guest” might be the key.

Heart hammering, Riya decided.

She stayed.

--

Arjun slipped silently through the shadows, his gun already warm in his palm. The back entrance loomed just ahead. One push and he could be inside.

But then, he froze, flattening himself against the wall as he saw a convoy of seven black Mercedes parked in the restricted parking bay, their tinted windows gleaming under the sodium lights. The kind of cars that didn’t just carry power- they carried danger.

Arjun’s eyes narrowed. This wasn’t coincidence. Whoever was inside… they were the reason for the heightened security.

And if he went in now, if he was seen even once- it wouldn’t be just his cover blown. It would be Riya’s life hanging in the balance.

For a long moment he stayed rooted, jaw tight. Every instinct screamed at him to push forward. But he forced himself to step back, deeper into the shadows.

Not now.

Not at her cost.

Without a sound, Arjun melted away from the entrance, retreating into the night. The decision scalded like defeat, but he knew- it was the only choice.

--

Riya pressed herself against the heavy curtains at the edge of the VIP gallery, her fingers brushing against the tiny mic in her ear.

“ETF, do you copy?” she whispered, voice tight. “Arjun sir? Shree? Chotu? Anyone—”

Only static answered.

Her brows knitted. She tried again, changing the angle of her ear piece so the transmitter caught better signal. Nothing. Not even the faint crackle of a response.

Panic tugged at her chest. “No. May be signals! They wouldn’t have left. They wouldn’t…”, fear and doubt had started to make way, but she tried to brush those thoughts away. They wouldn’t ditch her.

She moved to the window and tried again.

Nothing.

Silence.

Her breath grew shallow. Doubt clouded her senses, with a shadow of fear.

Had they really… abandoned her?

Were they proving their point? That she didn’t belong here?

“You’re a liability, Riya.”

“You don’t belong here.”

Arjun’s voice echoed in her mind.

Tears threatened, but then- another voice emerged.

“Don’t screw up, Rookie. But if you do, I will come to your rescue- I make solid backup plans for f**kups.” It was Kabir’s voice.

Kabir. Arjun. One teased, one taunted- but somewhere, both were right. Both thought that she wasn’t made for this, that she won’t be able to do it and that she will mess up or need someone to save her.

She couldn’t panic.

Not now.

Just then, the bass-heavy music dipped for a moment, drowned by the distinct rumble of engines outside and footsteps inside. From the window, she caught a fleeting glimpse of men in suit entering the club from the back gate. Guards stepped out first, scanning the perimeter with the precision of trained soldiers.

Riya’s breath hitched. She hid behind the curtain. Whoever had just arrived wasn’t someone ordinary. This was someone big. Someone dangerous.

Her eyes darted toward the restricted hallway. She knew she should retreat, find a way out while the commotion gave her cover. But the silence in her ear stung sharper than fear. If they weren’t answering—maybe Arjun didn’t trust her to finish this. And maybe, even Kabir too. Maybe they had already written her off as weak, as fragile, as reckless.

Jaw clenched, she steadied her heartbeat. “I can do this. I have to prove I can do this.”

Her footsteps carried her deeper into the shadows of the club, the jammer’s invisible noose cutting her off completely from the world outside.

And this way, Riya saw the convoy and chose recklessness because she felt abandoned and desperate to prove herself. While Arjun saw the convoy and chose restraint because Riya’s safety was paramount to him.

And both choices collided into the disaster that followed.

--

Arjun’s grip on the SUV door tightened as the team moved their vehicle two blocks away to avoid suspicion.

“Still no feed?” he snapped.

Chotu shook his head. “Camera, audio, everything- dead.”

Shree’s eyes scanned the road’s CCTV with caution. “Sir… vehicles incoming. The same time, the signals went off.”

They turned to look when the black Mercedes glided up to the entrance of the club.

All tinted windows.

One with a small jammer antenna discreetly mounted.

His eyes narrowed.

“A jammer. That’s what cut the connection.”

Shree came up beside him. “Looks like VIP company.”

“Or VVIP criminals,” Arjun murmured.

The aura around the vehicles was unmistakable. Z+ security. Heavy guards. Someone powerful had arrived.

“If we go in now,” Shree said, “we blow the cover.”

“And, if we don’t…”,Chotu added, without the need to finish those words.

Arjun didn’t reply. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached. Riya was in there- alone, disconnected. And he couldn’t do a damn thing.

“Riyaa!”, he murmured.

--

The hallway behind the poker lounge was eerily quiet. The hallway narrowed, voices echoed.

As Riya approached a door left slightly ajar, she heard laughter. She activated her bracelet camera silently- hands trembling.

Curiosity soon gave way to horror.

Inside the dimly lit room, Nikhil stood with his back to her, holding a glass of whiskey, smirking at a group of sharply dressed men.

“…Yeah, she’s a stunner. New girl. Classy. Soft. Will get her a few drinks, charm her up, and boom- tonight, she’s mine.”

A chuckle followed. Then a deeper voice said, “You never miss a shot, Nikhil.”

Riya’s heart pounded. She knew that voice.

Pathan Lala.

What she saw froze her.

There he stood, smirking, flanked by two other men with dead eyes and gold chains. Every nerve in Riya’s body screamed danger. She wanted to run, but her instinct made her stay, recording everything.

The room grew darker in her eyes, the air heavier.

She was in danger.

--

Arjun stood two blocks away under the shadows of a closed cigarette shop, his hoodie pulled low, a cigarette forgotten between his fingers.

He checked his phone for the fiftieth time. Nothing.

He cursed under his breath. “Why won’t you just come out?”

He imagined her inside- laughing, pretending, alone with a man like Nikhil. And worse… if she overplayed it. If she tried to dig deeper.

He clenched his fists. “Don’t do something stupid, Riya, just to prove me wrong and yourself worthy… I shouldn’t have sent you in!”

--

Mumbai’s skyline blurred past the cab window, dipped in the amber of a city falling into night. Kabir sat slouched in the backseat, the paper bag balanced on his lap—the edges crumpled from his restless grip.

But his mind wasn’t on the gift. Not even close.

His jaw flexed as he stared outside, the roads passing in golden ribbons. His heart had been on edge since he landed. He hadn’t heard from her in hours—not even a sarcastic emoji or one of her dramatic “I’m alive but barely!” texts, which usually came after the dullest of meetings.

Something itched in his gut. A discomfort he couldn’t shake. A rhythm out of tune.

He knew better than to panic at radio silence. Especially in their lines of work.

Still.

Still…

He exhaled and leaned his head back, letting the leather seat cushion his weight. But his mind wouldn’t still.

She was on her first mission. And he knew her better than anyone. He knew her eagerness, her bruised pride, the gnawing insecurities she tried so hard to hide. How easily she could throw herself into fire, not out of recklessness, but out of a desperate need to prove she belonged- prove it to her team, to him, to herself.

And that was what terrified him most.

He remembered his first covert op, how adrenaline had made him reckless instead of cautious. He’d taken a stupid risk in Kupwara, twenty years old and full of bravado, thinking courage meant charging headfirst. He could still hear the gruff voice of his commanding officer after pulling him out of that alley.

“Bravery isn’t running blind into fire, kid. That’s just vanity in uniform. Real courage is living long enough to fight again.”

Back then, Kabir had laughed it off. Not anymore. Not tonight.

Because if there was one thing he feared more than enemies, it was Riya letting her insecurities steer her straight into danger. He could picture her already- chin lifted, eyes sharp, telling herself “I can do this, I have to prove I can” even when the risk wasn’t worth it. He knew her heartbeat as if it were his own.

And what if, right now, she was doing exactly that?

His hand tightened on the paper bag until the cardboard groaned. This was supposed to be a surprise. Her first mission. His promotion. A stupid cake. A quiet dinner. A stolen evening between chaos.

But now… silence.

His mind whispered the fear he didn’t want to voice: What if she’s trying too hard to prove herself? What if that need puts her exactly where I can’t protect her?

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, Kabir. Don’t do that. Don’t spiral. She’s smart. She’s capable. She’ll yell at you for overthinking, mock your age, call you ‘UNCLE’, then kiss you anyway.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, but it felt hollow, a shell barely covering the thrum of dread beneath.

The cab curved onto a sea-facing road. Wind rushed in through the cracked window, cool and sharp. Kabir looked down at his phone again.

Still nothing.

He didn’t know if this fear clawing his chest was instinct… or just love’s worst side effect.

But either way, he needed to see her. Not just for relief. For proof.

That she was okay.

That she hadn’t let her insecurities push her into something reckless.

That he hadn’t failed her by not being there.

And somewhere in the hum of traffic and the blink of city lights, Kabir’s silence became a prayer in motion.

A whisper to the universe.

“Come back safe, Ri. Don’t prove anything the hard way. You’re already enough. You’re worthy.”

Because his heart- trained, battered, foolishly human- was already waiting at the hotel door, desperate for just one thing:

To see her walk through it.

Safe.

Strong.

And still smiling.

--

The music thumped like a second heartbeat inside the Juhu club, again. Laughter and clinking glasses drowned beneath the bass, but Riya’s ears had long tuned it out. Her breath stilled as she crouched near the half-open door, straining to catch every syllable that slipped between Nikhil Khanna and the man who haunted her dreams- Pathan Lala.

“…the consignment of toys moves out next week. Don’t screw the timing again,” Pathan muttered, his voice like gravel dragged across stone. “Because Baadshah doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

Riya’s pulse hammered. Baadshah. A name that felt like a title- heavy, commanding.

Pathan’s bulk shifted, and she heard a clink of metal. “Here. Today’s parcel- fresh hardware. Don’t flash it around. Even your walls have ears.”

Her eyes widened. Weapons. Proof enough that this wasn’t just a nightclub- it was a nest, armed and fortified.

Her one chance to escape unnoticed lay right there. The side passage was still clear. She could be gone in thirty seconds.

But Pathan’s next words pinned her to the spot.

“The special consignment lands next month. White lilies and red roses, straight from the garden.” He chuckled, the sound thick and obscene. “Baadshah wants the best bloom kept aside for himself. He will come to take them himself. And you, Khanna… you’ll let him taste that new girl you’re hiding. Please the king, and maybe he’ll raise you from a pawn to a bishop.”

Riya’s nails bit into her palms. White lilies. Red roses. Innocent words twisted into a grotesque code. She didn’t need a dictionary to understand- girls. Fresh girls.

Every nerve screamed to slip away, to deliver what she had already overheard. But then her mind betrayed her, replaying Arjun’s earlier verdict: “She’s not ready.”

And Kabir’s silence- the kind that hurt more than words. The doubt in his eyes, the way he hadn’t met her gaze before she left.

They’ll never see me as capable. Not unless I bring back something more than words.

Her breath shuddered. This wasn’t just about the case anymore. It was about her place. Her worth.

She glanced back at the passage one last time, then turned towards the Restricted Access door behind the bar. A reckless hunger surged through her veins- equal parts fear and defiance- as she pushed it open.

--

Riya’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths as she pressed herself against the cold wall. The Restricted Access sign loomed above her, daring her to step in.

Just one proof. One undeniable piece.

She slid inside. The room was stark- industrial shelves, crates stacked in neat but heavy columns, the air pungent with oil and metal. Her fingers brushed the bracelet on her wrist, the hidden lens no larger than a pinhole. She angled it towards the men who had just entered, their voices low and brisk as they began unloading wooden cartons.

Each box thudded onto the floor with a weight that left no doubt. The stencilled markings- serial numbers, foreign codes, faint outlines of rifles- were more than enough. Her heart surged.

This is it. This will silence them all.

She adjusted her position, steadying her arm to catch every frame. Her hand trembled, but the bracelet kept recording. It would be evidence they couldn’t deny.

Then, a sudden flicker of light. The metallic click of a lighter.

Nikhil Khanna leaned casually in the doorway, a flame dancing at his fingertips, his grin sharp as the ember he lit. Smoke curled upward, lazy and mocking.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes glinting as he stepped inside. “And here I thought you were just another pretty face trying to sip champagne out there. Turns out, you’re more curious than most.”

Riya’s stomach dropped. Her bracelet still blinked faintly, hidden against her skin, recording. She curled her wrist under her palm, pressing it tightly against her side. Don’t look. Don’t notice.

Nikhil strolled closer, circling her like a predator scenting weakness. “You know what happens to curious little kittens, don’t you? They end up in the wrong places. Exactly like this.”

She forced her face blank, biting down the terror clawing at her throat.

His hand shot out with sudden violence, fingers clamping around her chin so hard her jaw ached. He forced her face upward until their eyes met, his grin curling like a blade.

“What were you looking for?” he whispered, the smoke on his breath searing her lungs, making her eyes sting.

"Washroom!", Riya tried to keep her expression blank, but her pulse betrayed her, pounding against her throat where his thumb pressed a little too firmly. Her body went rigid, instinct screaming to recoil, but she couldn’t move. She was trapped- by his grip, by the silence of the cut-off comms, by her own reckless determination that had brought her here.

His other hand began its cruel exploration, sliding along her half-bare back in a mockery of casualness, but the pressure was deliberate, probing. He wasn’t just searching- he was asserting power, making her flinch, making her feel small.

Her breath snagged when his fingers dug into her waist, then travelled here and there, pausing as though savouring the discomfort it caused. His touch lingered too long on each curve, and every second was a violation. Every pat for a phone or recorder was disguised as something far more degrading.

Her skin burned where he touched her, a bruising kind of possession that made her nails bite into her palms as she fought the urge to scream. This wasn’t training, wasn’t the adrenaline of undercover work- it was the raw, humiliating truth of what it meant to be powerless in front of a predator.

His voice was a silken threat against her ear. “Nothing on you? Hm. Maybe you’re smarter than you look.” His thumb brushed against her lower lip, smearing the faint tremor she couldn’t hide. “Or maybe…” His grin widened, teeth flashing. “…you’re just a gift waiting to be unwrapped.”

Her knees weakened, not from his hold but from the sickening weight of his words. She had come in here determined to prove herself, to silence the doubts of her team, of Kabir, of Arjun. But all that resolve now cracked under the reality of his grip, leaving her shaken, hollow.

And then came the final blow, murmured with cruel amusement: “You’ll make a fine present for Baadshah. He likes his toys fearless… at first.”

The name cut deeper than his hands. Riya’s breath faltered, her vision blurred. Not just fear—but shame, despair, the unbearable knowledge that her body had been turned into leverage. That she was no longer an agent in this moment, but prey.

Her heart screamed for escape, but her mind was already unravelling. For the first time, she understood that sometimes the battlefield left no visible wounds, yet still carved scars too deep to ever be erased.

--

Riya’s stomach clenched as Nikhil’s thumb scraped across her cheek. She flinched back, pulse roaring in her ears. No. No. Not like this.

Nikhil’s hand slid over her, his breath hot against her skin. “You could’ve kept it simple,” he hissed. “Danced, smiled, drank. But you…” his grip on her chin tightened, bruising, “…you had to snoop where you don’t belong. Curiosity, darling, costs more than you can afford.”

The words made her blood run cold, but it was his touch- the invasive, possessive trail of his fingers- that made something snap inside her. Fear rattled her bones, but rage kept her standing.

Not here. Not with him. She wasn’t going to break.

With a surge of adrenaline, she kicked hard between his legs and rammed her elbow into his ribs. He cursed, doubling over just enough. Her wrist tore free.

Riya didn’t look back. She bolted.

The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, polished floors reflecting streaks of shadow and light as her heels skidded. Every step felt like her heart would explode out of her chest. Behind her, Nikhil’s snarl cut through the music and laughter. “Catch her!”

His men thundered after her.

She crashed through a side door, spilling into the service hallway, the sterile walls closing in around her. Gasping for air, she slapped her earpiece desperately. Her voice cracked. “Can anyone hear me? Shree? Arjun sir…please!”

No answer.

Her stomach hollowed. They’d left her. They’d abandoned her.

“Get her!” A guard lunged out from a corner, nearly tackling her. She twisted, instincts taking over, and grabbed the nearest thing she could-an empty glass bottle off a cleaning trolley. It shattered against his shoulder, glass cutting her palm, but it gave her seconds. Just seconds.

She ran again, hand bleeding, lungs screaming. The service exit loomed ahead like salvation. If she could just-

Her palm slammed the metal bar. The alarm shrieked as the emergency door burst open, spilling her into the back lobby.

She stumbled forward, nearly collapsing, then forced her legs to move. She didn’t stop. Not until the pounding footsteps behind her loud.

Her body was shaking violently, one arm clutching her wrist. The bracelet still blinked faintly. Recording. Keeping the evidence she couldn’t yet face.

She swallowed hard, the weight of silence crushing her. “They left me,” she whispered to herself, voice breaking. “They left me behind…”

What she didn’t know was that it wasn’t betrayal. It was a jammer cutting her off.

And somewhere behind her, Nikhil’s voice carried through the night. A promise. A threat.

“This isn’t over.”

--

Kabir’s arms were full of bright things- streamers crinkling, a box of sweets balanced precariously, a small packet that held the gift he had bought for her. The hotel apartment smelled faintly of roses; he had asked for them to be sent up hours ago, a quiet celebration waiting for her.

Promotion. Her first mission. Two victories. Two reasons to smile.

But his own lips didn’t curve. As he dropped the decorations onto the table, his chest felt tight, as if every balloon string were wrapped around his lungs. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know how. But something inside him twisted with unease- like a silent thread that bound his heartbeat to hers, tugging harder and harder with every passing minute.

The room was festive, but his heart was in ruins. Decorations and dread, side by side.

--

The distant wail of an alarm ripped through the night, sharp and urgent. Shree’s head shot up. “Emergency exit alarm. From inside the club.”

Arjun didn’t wait for confirmation. He was already moving, his strides long and furious.

“Sir!” Shree called after him.

But Arjun didn’t hear. His instincts were screaming louder than reason. She’s inside. She’s in trouble.

He sprinted down the narrow lane toward the hotel’s back entrance, the collar of his jacket pulled high against the night air. The shriek of emergency sirens split through the dark.

Hope was a fragile thing in that moment, but he clung to it- because if he let go, he knew he’d drown in the silence where her voice should have been.

Arjun was almost at the service door when movement caught his eye. A shadow stumbled out of the narrow passage- small, unsteady, clutching her arm.

And then he finally saw her.

Riya burst through the emergency door, stumbling into the night like a hunted deer, eyes wide, chest heaving. For a split second, he caught the raw panic on her face. She wasn’t running towards something. She was running from something.

“Riya!”

The name tore out of him before he even realized. She was running, wild-eyed, her hand slick with blood, crimson streaks glinting under the flashing red of the emergency lights.

She didn’t hear him. Behind her, two bouncers poured out, shoving through the door with Nikhil’s furious voice echoing after them. She was seconds away from being dragged back inside.

Arjun moved. No hesitation.

He sprinted forward, his hand shooting out just as she nearly collapsed against the alley wall. In one swift motion, he yanked her into the shadows, pulling her tight against his chest, one arm circling her waist, the other silencing her startled gasp.

Her body trembled violently against his, her breath ragged and hot against his palm. For a heartbeat, her wide eyes met his- fear, relief, disbelief crashing together.

The men thundered past, not noticing them pressed into the darkness. Arjun waited, breath locked in his chest, until their footsteps faded down the alley. Only then did he release her, just enough to see her face.

Riya’s lips parted, trembling, but no words came out.

Arjun swallowed, his anger and fear tangled in one knot in his throat. His grip on her arms betrayed something else- he wasn’t ready to let her go, not when he’d almost lost her.

But her eyes, brimming with hurt far deeper than blood or bruises, locked onto his. Her lips moved, and only one sentence escaped, raw and broken:

“You abandoned me.”

For a second, his heart stopped. The words hit him harder than the alarms, harder than any bullet could. She truly believed he’d abandoned her.

Before he could move, she pulled free of his grip, stumbling forward, running into the night. His hand remained outstretched, trembling, empty.

And then- voices. Guards shouting, footsteps pounding. Nikhil’s furious tone carried out of the alley. Arjun’s instincts snapped back in just enough time for him to duck into the shadows, jaw clenched, his chest hollow.

He stayed hidden, unseen, while she disappeared into the darkness- her blood and her words still burning into him.

--

Decorations in one place.

Debris in another.

And in between them… Riya.

--

When the men had retreated, he wanted to go after her. God, every instinct screamed at him to. But his legs wouldn’t move. Because deep down, he knew… in a way, she wasn’t entirely wrong. His walls, his ego, his harshness- he’d cornered her into desperation. He had pushed her to take this reckless step.

And now she bore wounds she hadn’t even spoken of yet.

Arjun finally dragged himself towards the SUV, each step heavier than the last. The moment he climbed in, Shree pounced, his face pale. “Sir? What happened? Where’s Riya? Are we going in? ”

“Is she hurt?” Chotu’s booming voice cracked with worry.

Arjun didn’t answer. He just sank into the seat, staring at nothing, his jaw locked so tight it hurt.

The engine rumbled to life, and the SUV pulled away from the club. But inside, silence pressed down harder than the alarms ever had. Shree and Chotu exchanged uneasy glances in the rear-view mirror. Their leader looked like a man who’d fought a battle and lost without a single bullet fired.

Because tonight, it wasn’t the enemy that had broken him.

It was her words.

--

The elevator doors to the ETF office slid open with a hollow chime. Arjun stepped out first, flanked closely by Shree and Chotu. The three walked in silence- steps heavy, clothes slightly ruffled from the field, faces unreadable.

But as they turned the corner into the conference hall, the weight in the air shifted.

There, seated at the head of the table, arms crossed, eyes razor sharp, was ACP Sameer Damsingh Rathore.

His glare sliced through the silence like a whip.

The air went still.

Shree stopped short. Chotu swallowed thickly. Arjun clenched his jaw.

No one spoke, because no one needed to.

It was written across Rathore’s face.

He had already met Riya.

His stare bore into them like judgement day. Cold. Furious. Disappointed.

Not the anger of a superior officer.

The fury of someone who cared.

Rathore slowly rose from the chair, his fingers pressing into the table’s edge.

The silence was deafening.

Arjun stood tall but couldn’t meet his eyes. Not fully.

Because behind Rathore’s fury... was truth.

Guilt pooled in his chest like poison. Not just for the mission gone off-track. But for the look Riya had given him outside that club- the betrayal etched in her silence.

And he hadn't stopped her.

He couldn't.

Because if he had tried to speak, his voice would've cracked under the weight of what he felt.

So, he let her go.

And now?

Now he stood under the harsh lights of the ETF office, facing a man who had trusted him to protect what little family he had left.

Rathore looked at the three of them one by one.

“I’ll speak with all of you tomorrow,” he said curtly. “One at a time.”

Then, without waiting for a reply, he walked past them- his shoulder brushing Arjun's.

The message was clear.

You’ve crossed a line.

--

She reached the door of her suite, key card in hand, heart barely holding itself together.

Every step up the elevator had felt heavier than the last. Her hand bleeding. Her face and arms bruised with Nikhil's hold. Her heels had begun to blister. Her limbs ached. Her throat was raw from holding back words. Her mind- a minefield of doubt. But her soul- dead.

She just wanted to change.

To breathe.

To wash away the stains on her mind, body and soul.

To disappear for a while.

She slid the card into the lock. The door clicked.

And the moment she stepped in-

Her heart stumbled.

The lights were dim, but warm. Her favourite flowers stood in a vase on the side table. Balloons floated lazily to the ceiling. The faint hum of her favourite playlist filled the space.

And in the middle of it all-

Kabir.

In a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled, grinning like a child who had just pulled off the biggest surprise of the century.

“You’re here!” he beamed. “Finally.”

She didn’t speak.

Not because she didn’t want to. But because something inside her cracked.

Kabir rushed towards the bed, to bring the flowers he got for her. “Look, I know it’s cheesy- okay, very cheesy- but I just… I wanted to celebrate- ”

“Riya?” his voice softened, the warmth flickering. “Hey…”

He stepped forward, the excitement of a boy and the love of a man dancing on his face.

He stopped.

She wasn’t glowing with pride or joy or excitement.

She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, stunned by how happy he had looked. And how broken she felt inside.

That contrast nearly undid her.

Kabir stepped closer.

But then…

He saw her.

His smile faltered.

She was bleeding, and bruised.

She looked… hollow.

Mascara slightly smudged. Eyes dull. Posture tense.

Her eyes were blank. Her lips, trembling. She stood like a statue at the threshold- battle-worn, silent.

She dropped her clutch slowly, the sound unnaturally loud in the soft room.

Kabir’s voice came out quieter this time. “Riya…?”

“What happened?” he asked, the tremor in his voice betraying his rising fear.

Riya shook her head slightly. Swallowed hard.

Kabir dropped the party horn in his hand.

Riya didn’t say a word.

She didn’t have to.

Her eyes brimmed, but didn’t spill.

And then, Kabir opened his arms, his heart sinking, thinking she would run to him - fast, like her body couldn’t hold it all in anymore, and wrap her arms tightly around him, like she always did.

But she didn't.

That did it.

Kabir was stunned, but he instantly moved to her and hugged her.

No words. Just a hug.

Long. Breathless. Shaking.

He pulled her tighter.

Whatever had happened… he’d hear it all later.

Riya didn't cry- not even in his arms.

That scared Kabir. Scared him to death as his worst fears had come true.

--

Tonight-

Arjun thought he had almost lost her.

Kabir feared he had almost lost her.

But the truth was quieter.

Crueller.

Only one of them had truly lost her.

Riya.

Riya had lost.

She had lost… herself.

--

Dear readers,

First off, I truly apologize for the delay in updating—thank you for your patience and continued support.

This chapter turned out to be a bit heavy, and I understand it may be triggering for some. But as with life, not every moment is wrapped in comfort, and Riya, too, must face her share of harsh truths.

That said, I promise the upcoming parts will bring a much lighter, more fun, and yes, updates will be more frequent from here on. Stay with me! And do not forget to drop in your views. I need to know what you all think, about where the story is heading to!

🖤A