"The price of love...is to shady."
Abhinav and I were riding through a quiet village near Tirur. The sky was swelling with dark clouds, casting long shadows on the dusty road. He had been silent since we left the highway.
I glanced at him. His face was grim — a cold stillness carved into his features.
I cleared my throat. "So... why do you think your brother's killer is here?"
He turned toward me slowly. "Because..." he said, pausing, "he's sitting right next to me."
My heart pounded. I swallowed hard and subtly reached under my coat for the pistol I had stolen from Sarla's cupboard. With the amount of firepower she had, one missing gun wouldn't be noticed.
Abhinav let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Don't bother. If I wanted you dead, I would've done it yesterday."
I froze. "Then why haven't you?"
He looked ahead. "When you took Avinash away, I was furious. But beneath the rage... I was scared. I knew he wasn't coming back. Still, all I gave you was a hollow warning."
His voice cracked slightly.
"My mother didn't cry when they brought Avinash's charred body. A mother who once pressed him close to her chest didn't shed a single tear. No one did. I tried. God knows I tried. But I couldn't cry either. Just... numbness. A searing, silent kind that burns you from inside."
He paused, eyes fixed on the road.
"I tracked you down, convinced myself I'd kill you the same way you killed him. But something changed. On the way here, I met an old boatman — chirpy, almost radiant. I asked him why he looked so damn happy."
Abhinav turned to me, his eyes unreadable. "He said he was happy because Avinash was dead. That justice had finally been served."
He laughed under his breath — not bitterly, just faintly amazed.
"I recognized him. Years ago, I bribed the cops to bury my brother's case. I remembered that old man's tear-streaked face. But today... he smiled. And in that moment, my numbness lifted. My anger dissolved."
He looked me dead in the eye.
"You did the right thing... Harsh."
My blood ran cold.
He knew my name.
"How... do you know my name?" I asked, my hand subtly slipping into my pocket again.
He gave a dismissive shrug. "Relax. It's not that complicated. I have people in the right places—London included. Some of them are on my payroll." He leaned in slightly. "Anyway, I won't tell Sarla anything. I want him punished too." A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Why? Aren't you two close friends?" I asked, feeling the first beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
He exhaled, long and slow, as if dragging the truth from some buried part of himself. "Only on the surface. That friendship rotted years ago." His voice turned bitter. "He's greedy. Treacherous. Once, he stole my consignment—lied about it being lost in a storm. Gave me some money as compensation, but behind my back, he'd sold the whole load to foreigners and made a fortune."
He clenched his jaw, eyes flashing. "Then, he strong-armed me into selling my product at a loss—used his new 'associates' to corner me. Now, he's reaching beyond India, sniffing around Rico Martinez." He spat the name like venom. "That Bolivian butcher has no interest in Sarla. But Sarla's relentless."
He leaned back, folding his arms. "I want you to finish him. Help me reclaim what's mine from that scoundrel."
I studied his face—smirking, malicious, calculating. And in that moment, I knew: he was no different from Sarla.
I looked at his grinning face.
"What if I don't help you?" I asked.
His smile vanished. A shadow darkened his features.
"Then I'll tell Sarla all about you and your little mission," he said coldly. "He might pretend to be a pacifist, but deep inside? He's still the same ruthless goon he once was."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "It's not that easy. Things aren't in my hands. There are others—people who lead me. You should be talking to them."
Without warning, Abhinav slammed the brake. The jeep screeched to a violent stop. My chest hit the dashboard.
"Get down," he grunted.
Still stunned, I stepped out and followed him. He walked briskly to a shabby hut, its wooden frame weathered and cracking. He kicked the door open and strode inside.
What I saw next made my heart skip.
Antony. Mr. Mathur. And... Meera.
She looked straight into my soul. I froze.
Abhinav came close and draped his arm around my neck like a leash.
"We've been planning this for three years," he whispered. "And now... it's time. Time to end Sarla. For good."
Before I could react, Meera rushed to me. Her eyes sparkled with something dangerous—familiar, yet foreign. She pulled me close and, without a word, pressed her lips against mine.
For a brief moment, I melted. Her lips were soft, her breath carried the scent of jasmine. Everything else—the plan, the threat, the betrayal—vanished.
Then reality crashed back in. I gently pushed her away.
"What the hell is going on?" I snapped. My voice cracked with confusion and fury. "Why are you doing this?"
Meera smiled faintly. "Don't worry. Things are going to get better—once Sarla's gone."
Mr. Mathur stood and walked to a chair near a dusty whiteboard, where some names and supply routes were scribbled in red marker.
"Sarla owns a significant number of shares in Abhinav's company," he said. "He uses that control to smuggle his consignments across regions—tax-free. His greed has made him rich beyond belief. And now he plans to align with Ricardo Martinez."
The room stiffened at that name.
Mr. Mathur continued, "If Sarla brings Rico's power here, we're all finished."
I swallowed hard. "But... why me?"
Antony's voice thundered. "Because you're an outsider. Sarla may be a backstabbing bastard, but we're not. We won't kill someone the public thinks is their savior. It has to be someone like you."
Abhinav nodded. "You're already knee-deep in this. Why not make it count?"
I shook my head. "This isn't charity. I'm not going to kill Sarla for fun."
Meera stepped forward, her voice cracking. "Fine. Then let me do it. And when my father finds out, he'll burn me alive."
I looked at her. Her eyes weren't begging—they were daring. She'd already accepted death.
I exhaled slowly and dropped my gaze. "Fine."
Mr. Mathur smiled. "Good. We'll discuss the next move elsewhere."
Abhinav grabbed my arm and pulled me out.
"We can't stay here," he muttered, shoving me back into the jeep.
He slammed the door, started the engine, and drove away like a man chased by time.
I sat in silence, torn between the guilt of the past and the dread of what I had just agreed to do.
No matter what I chose now, someone was going to die.
And maybe, a part of me already had.
I walked into my room. Sumeet rushed at me and shoved me hard against the wall.
"What the hell were you thinking, risking your life like that?"
I pushed him aside. "I was just doing my job. Keeping Sarla happy—and not suspicious of us—is what I have to do."
Sumeet let out a deep sigh. "I spoke to Mr. Henderson. We're getting out of here soon. Three weeks from now, a boat will meet us near Kochi. We'll leave by midnight—quiet, clean. Then we board a plane in Goa. London's just a few hours after that."
His face lit up, hopeful.
I exhaled slowly. "Only if it were that easy."
"What do you mean by that?" Sumeet's smile faded instantly.
I told him everything that had happened.
He stared at me, stunned. "Really? You're that gullible? Only God and Sir Lorenzo know how you're still considered fit for UCID." His voice was laced with disbelief. "Sarla and his enemies aren't our problem. Our job was simple: trace his business routes and pass the intel to UCID headquarters. That's it."
He shook his head.
"So now what?" I asked, my voice tight with anxiety.
"As an officer of UCID, I say we run. Reach Goa on our own and disappear. But…" He paused and stepped closer. "As your friend, I say let's get you out of this mess."
He hugged me with a soft smile. "But be careful. I wouldn't trust a woman so determined to kill her husband—and who uses her charm the way she does."
"What do you mean by that?" I snapped. "You think she's trying to seduce me?"
He smirked. "As far as I can see, that's not entirely false."
I waved my hand in dismissal. "I've seen this pattern before. You can't always blame a woman for wanting love."
"Oh yeah? And how did that work out for you?"
His voice cracked with anger.
His words hit home. My frown deepened.
Sensing it, he pulled me in for another hug. "What happened with Cathy wasn't your fault. But what happens now? That's on you. Meera's a good woman, maybe. But there's something in her—a darkness I don't trust."
He patted my shoulder three times and walked out.
And he wasn't wrong.
Meera did seem eccentric. Then again, everyone I'd met here did—Sarla, Raju, Mr. Mathur, Abhinav… even him. Especially him. Abhinav didn't show a single trace of pain in his eyes. Why protect someone if you don't feel a thing for them?
They all spoke sweetly—but beneath every word was something sharp, something threatening. I felt it.
Overwhelmed, I lay back and shut my eyes. I couldn't afford to think anymore. Not tonight.
Meera sat quietly in front of the mirror, combing through her thick black hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The soft rustle of the brush against her strands filled the silence of the room, interrupted only by the distant hum of traffic beyond the estate walls.
The door creaked open behind her. She didn't need to look to know who it was.
"Where were you this morning?" Sarla's voice carried the weight of restrained worry. "I searched the whole house. You were nowhere to be seen."
Meera's lips curled into a faint, almost mocking smile. She continued combing, eyes fixed on her reflection. "I was at a friend's place," she said lightly. "She wanted to see me, so I went."
Sarla moved slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed, his reflection now visible beside hers in the mirror. "You should've told me. I would have sent a car. It's not safe to go alone."
She placed the comb down on the table with a soft clink and turned to face him, her expression cool and composed.
"No need for such favours," she said. "I can manage on my own. I'm not your burden."
A sigh escaped Sarla, long and weary. "It's not about dependency, Meera. I was just—"
"—Just pretending again," Meera snapped, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. "Your concern is as fake as the rest of this life you've built around us."
Sarla blinked, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"
She stood now, arms crossed, her presence firm and unwavering. "The consignment, Sarla. Don't act clueless. You inflated the price so Abhinav would be forced to pay more. You did it deliberately."
A flicker of something—surprise, perhaps—flashed across Sarla's face, then quickly vanished behind a mask of composure.
"Abhinav and I are business partners," he replied calmly. "Price fluctuations happen. That's how this industry works." His voice was even, but his eyes were sharp now, calculating. "How did you find out?"
Meera tilted her head slightly. "People talk. You know that better than anyone."
He rose slowly, as if trying to close the growing distance between them. His hand reached out, perhaps in reconciliation, perhaps out of habit. But as he moved to embrace her, Meera took a step back and pushed him away.
"Don't," she whispered. Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with anger barely held in check. "Don't touch me with those hands that trade betrayal for power."
Sarla's face hardened, jaw tight.
"Your dishonesty is corroding everything, Sarla," she said, voice rising. "Not just our name, not just your deals—but us. What little there is left."
And without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and walked out, her footsteps echoing down the corridor until the heavy slam of the door rang out behind her like a final judgment...