Two Days Later – Dadar Crematorium, Mumbai
Aaradhya stood a few paces behind the burning pyre.
No tears left to cry.
No words left to whisper.
Only silence remained, wrapping her like a threadbare shawl.
Arnav Mehra's final rites were being done anonymously—no garlands, no crowd, no mourning family. Just her and a handful of men dressed in black, members of the Rathore syndicate who neither asked questions nor offered condolences.
Ruhan stood under the shade of a large banyan tree, watching her. His gaze unreadable.
Not pity. Not concern.
Observation.
He'd come with her without a word. Had arranged the cremation discreetly, as promised. But everything about him remained cold. Detached.
After the flames died down and the priests began to chant, Aaradhya turned toward him.
"I'm going to find the others involved in Project Raktbindu," she said, her voice low but firm.
Ruhan didn't blink. "And then?"
"And then I'll expose them."
He raised an eyebrow. "To whom? The police? The media? You think they'll take down five mafia syndicates and a government-backed scientist because of a dead hacker's sister?"
She didn't answer.
Because she knew the truth.
"I need allies," she said instead.
"You need protection," he corrected. "There's a difference."
Her jaw clenched. "Then teach me the difference."
---
Rathore Estate – Same Night
Ruhan sat alone in his underground chamber, an old map spread across the table.
Red lines. Blue pins. Black dots.
Every name Aaradhya had mentioned in Arnav's flash drive—he had heard them before. Hidden under trade deals, export contracts, even charity foundations. Syndicate laundering at its best.
He touched one pin: Dr. Vedant Arya – Kalina Research Facility (Defunct)
Why would a brilliant doctor run clinical trials through a mafia route?
What was so valuable in this project that four other syndicates would risk exposure?
And most importantly—why the hell hadn't he known about it before?
---
Elsewhere – Vora Estate, Juhu
Tanish Vora lit a cigar as he flipped through surveillance stills of Aaradhya entering Rathore's gate.
"Well, well… Arnav Mehra's baby sister has teeth," he murmured.
The woman across from him—Reeva Malik—smiled thinly.
"She's fire. You'd like her," she said.
"I like useful people, not emotional ones."
"She's digging into Raktbindu. Fast."
Tanish took a puff and leaned back. "Then let her dig. If she finds something worth silencing… we'll silence her."
---
The Next Day – Rathore Estate
Aaradhya woke before dawn.
She found a duffel bag waiting at her door. Inside: combat sneakers, fitted pants, a black hoodie, and a burner phone.
No note. Just a tag on the zipper: Welcome to Rule Three.
She dressed, met Iqbal in the garage, and found Ruhan already at the wheel of a matte black Jeep.
"You said you'd help me," she said, climbing in.
"I said I'd show you the cost of knowing," he corrected.
They drove in silence past the sleeping city. Mumbai in its rawest form—winding roads, shuttered stalls, men sleeping under tarps while skyscrapers glinted in the distance.
Their destination: an abandoned government lab on the outskirts of Kalina.
Where Project Raktbindu was allegedly born.
---
Kalina Research Facility – 6:43 a.m.
The place smelled of mold, rust, and forgotten ethics.
Aaradhya walked slowly, eyes adjusting to the dim. Ruhan held a flashlight like a weapon, every movement controlled.
Inside, they found broken sample vials, old patient files, and a rusted examination table stained with something long dried.
"This place was shut five years ago," Ruhan said.
"Arnav said trials continued in secret. Off-the-grid facilities."
Aaradhya sifted through the papers until one file caught her attention.
Patient Code: V-201 – Resistance: Stage 3 – Result: Unstable
She flipped through the pages—notes scribbled in messy handwriting.
"Unstable response. Neural overload. Violent psychotic breaks."
"These were people," she whispered.
Ruhan said nothing. But something in his eyes shifted.
Then he turned toward the far wall—and kicked it.
Dust exploded. Behind it, a steel door groaned open.
Inside: a small server room, half-burned, half-frozen in time.
A single terminal blinked. One file still intact.
He plugged in a decryption stick and waited.
Lines of code danced. Then a video file popped up.
A boy, maybe 15, restrained. Needles in his arms. A doctor's voice echoed.
"We'll increase dosage today. He showed signs of verbal coherence last night. This might be the breakthrough."
The boy screamed.
Then the screen went black.
Aaradhya stumbled back.
"Turn it off," she breathed.
Ruhan obliged.
The silence that followed was heavier than any scream.
---
Later – Back in the Jeep
Aaradhya didn't speak the entire drive back.
When they reached the estate, Ruhan didn't look at her as he said, "You still think this is about revenge?"
"No," she whispered. "It's war."
He nodded. "And war follows three rules."
"Which are?"
He turned to her.
"One: Never trust anyone completely."
"Two: Never show your full hand."
"And three…"
He leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping.
"…always be ready to bury someone you love."
She met his eyes.
And for the first time, Ruhan Rathore saw something in her that startled him.
Not grief. Not fear.
Resolve.
---
Somewhere in Nashik – Private Clinic Basement
Dr. Vedant Arya watched another patient convulse as the serum took effect.
The man had volunteered, offered by a minor gang in exchange for money.
He wasn't expected to survive.
"You've pushed the dosage," the assistant said nervously.
Arya scribbled notes. "We're close."
"Should we alert the syndicates?"
He looked up. "No. They'll interfere. They've already made a mess with the girl."
"What about her?"
Arya smiled faintly.
"She thinks she's collecting truth. But really—she's walking into a story written before she was even born."