The first man came swinging. She blocked high, the clash of metal jarring her arms, and rammed the rod into his stomach. He doubled over, and she shoved him into the second guard. Both went stumbling. The third swung a baton at her head; she ducked, and his weapon smashed against the wall, sending sparks from an exposed wire.

  Her eyes flicked up. Without hesitation, she jabbed the rod into the ceiling light above. The glass shattered, showering sparks and fragments across the corridor.

  The guards flinched instinctively, shielding their faces. That heartbeat of chaos was all she needed. She drove her rod into the jaw of the closest man, then spun low and kicked another in the knee, hearing the crack as he howled in pain.

  “Hold her!” one of them shouted, voice ragged.

  Another lunged, grabbing her arm, but she twisted violently and seized his baton. With a grunt, she yanked it free and jammed the electrified tip into his chest. Blue arcs of current danced across his body as he screamed, collapsing to the floor in a convulsing heap.

  The sound of his fall echoed through the chamber, mixing with the metallic clang of weapons and the shouts of men struggling to contain one woman. Aanchal’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her muscles screaming, but her eyes burned with determination.

  The corridor was chaos now cracked glass on the ground, sparks flickering in the shadows, the air filled with the sharp tang of ozone.

  She shifted her grip between the rod and the stolen baton, striking and countering with desperate precision. Each move was efficient, born of survival, but the weight of every blow slowed her a little more.

  And then, from the lab door at the far end, a new figure emerged. Kairav. His crisp suit looked almost absurd against the carnage, but his face betrayed something new: unease. He paused, watching Aanchal ram the rod into another guard’s ribs before whipping the baton into his face.

  “She’s tearing through them,” one guard panted.

  Kairav’s lips pressed thin. His voice, when it came, was sharp and controlled. “Alive. I want her alive.”

  Aanchal froze for the briefest moment, her gaze locking with his across the corridor. His calm, detached command cut deeper than the chaos around her. He didn’t see her as a threat. He saw her as a prize.

  That pause was all Veeraj needed. He finally moved, stepping forward with deliberate heaviness, each stride like the toll of a bell. From his belt, he drew a stun gun, its prongs sparking faintly.

  Aanchal swung the rod into one last guard’s head, sending him crumpling to the floor. But as she reset, her back pressed against the cold concrete wall. There was nowhere left to go.

  Veeraj closed the gap, his eyes locked on hers, steady and unblinking. She braced, raising her weapons. But he was faster than she expected. His hand clamped down on her shoulder, pinning her, and before she could twist free, the stun gun drove into her side.

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  The world lit up in white-hot pain. Aanchal screamed, her body convulsing violently as the current ripped through her. Her grip loosened; the rod clattered to the floor. The baton slipped from her fingers. Every muscle betrayed her, locking and seizing under the electric surge.

  Her vision blurred, swimming in sparks and shadows. She could hear distant shouts, maybe laughter, maybe orders, but they were muffled, fading behind the roar in her ears. Her knees buckled. She crumpled to the ground, chest heaving, the NBC suit scorched at the side where the stun had struck.

  The last thing she saw was Veeraj’s shadow standing over her, and Kairav’s cold smile from across the corridor. Then the darkness swallowed her whole.

  The warehouse felt heavier after Rajni’s words. Dust floated in the shafts of dim light, caught like tiny ghosts above the crates. The group had fallen silent, each person processing the revelations differently. Aman paced near the shutter, running a hand through his hair. Dikshant sat cross-legged, chewing at his lip, while Naina leaned against a stack of crates, arms folded, her eyes darting to Shivam and then to Bhumika.

  Rajni’s presence didn’t make the silence easier. She sat calmly, watching them with a detached expression, as though she had already grown used to the weight of secrets.

  It was Naina who broke the quiet. “Where’s Aanchal?”

  The question was simple, but it hit the air like a crack. Everyone looked at each other. Shivam frowned, suddenly aware of the absence. “She said she’d be here.”

  “Her place isn’t that far from here,” Naina pressed, pulling out her phone. She dialed quickly, lifting it to her ear. The ring tone echoed in the warehouse, shrill in the silence. No one picked up.

  “Try again,” Aman said quickly.

  She did. Still nothing. Her hand dropped to her side, phone trembling slightly. “This isn’t like her.”

  The unease spread through the group like a chill. Shivam exchanged a look with Rathod, whose jaw tightened. Even Bhumika seemed to feel it, her brows drawing together.

  “She’s tough,” Aman muttered, though his tone didn’t match the words. “But if something happened”

  “We don’t assume,” Shivam cut him off sharply, though his voice betrayed the same worry. He pulled out his phone, checking the group chat. Nothing new. The screen’s glow lit his tense features.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. The warehouse creaked faintly, the sound of the city distant and muted. The feeling of dread only thickened, like a storm building outside.

  Aanchal stirred.

  Her head throbbed. Her wrists ached. When she opened her eyes, the world swam before slowly sharpening into focus. A single lightbulb swung above her, its faint buzzing filling the silence of the room. Chains cut into her wrists as she hung suspended, her toes barely grazing the concrete floor.

  The air smelled of damp iron and stale smoke.

  The door creaked.

  Veeraj entered first, his scarred face as impassive as before. Behind him came Kairav, composed in his dark suit, eyes cold but sharp. He carried a small bundle, which he set neatly on the table in the corner.

  Her stomach sank when she saw it. The burner phone. The stolen keycards. The fake IDs.

  Kairav picked up the phone, scrolling through her messages casually, his mouth curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You were busy, weren’t you?” His voice was calm, almost conversational. “So many little secrets tucked away. And friends waiting for you.”

  He looked up at her, tilting his head as though examining a specimen. Then, without hurry, he typed a message into the phone.

  The sound of the sent notification was like a blade twisting.

  In the warehouse, Shivam’s phone buzzed. He lifted it, frowning as he read the words aloud.

  “She entered SynerTech with my permission. She will only leave with mine. -K.”

  Silence swallowed the room. Every eye turned to him, the weight of the message sinking in.

  For the first time that night, even Rajni looked shaken.

  Shivam’s grip tightened on the phone, his knuckles white. His heart hammered as the truth settled over them all: Aanchal was in enemy hands.