Episode 89
The storm had begun.
All over the city, rumors swirled. Was Raian really alive? Was the leak genuine? Could this be the beginning of the end for Malik's empire?
The media couldn't verify the source. Government officials remained silent. Malik's PR machine worked overtime to flood the internet with distractions—celebrity scandals, doctored news, twisted narratives.
But nothing worked.
The name Raian echoed like a whisper in dark alleys, in military chatrooms, in underground networks.
And in the quiet heart of that chaos sat Aria, her gaze steady, hands steady—yet her soul trembling.
She hadn't heard Raian's voice in days. Hadn't seen him. But she felt him. In the code. In the drive. In the blood in her veins that burned with purpose.
Across the room, Noah ran his fingers through his hair as he connected a new satellite channel.
"We have less than 72 hours before Malik finds our trail," he said. "We need to act before he does."
Aria nodded, her voice calm. "We leak the second file tonight."
Ayan raised a brow. "You sure? The next file targets an international pharmaceutical company. That's huge."
"I'm sure," she replied. "They experimented on children in border towns. Raian risked everything to get this. We won't hold it back."
Noah looked at her a moment longer—then nodded. "Understood, Commander."
She blinked, surprised. "What did you call me?"
He smirked. "You're leading now, Doctor. Whether you like it or not."
---
Meanwhile, inside Blackridge Prison
The concrete walls reeked of sweat, blood, and silence.
Raian sat in his isolated cell, the only sound being the occasional drip of a leaking pipe overhead. His knuckles were cracked, his lip split. The guards didn't beat him to kill—only to break.
They hadn't succeeded.
He'd been tortured before. This was familiar. Predictable.
But what he couldn't ignore was the faint hum of the contraband earpiece Noah had gotten into the prison.
Hidden deep in his right molar, a micro-audio transmitter relayed brief updates every few hours. Not enough for a conversation. But enough to know.
To know Aria was alive.
That she was fighting.
That she'd called the leak Raian's Requiem.
He chuckled once, the sound raspy. "Dramatic, kitten."
A small piece of paper lay folded in his hand, smuggled in with the transmitter.
Aria's handwriting.
It read:
"When you're not here to kill the monsters, I'll become one."
He stared at it.
Then pressed the paper against his chest.
---
That night, in the observatory
The second wave hit the world like a bomb.
Leaked audio recordings. Secret medical trials. Children injected with untested substances. Company board members discussing "acceptable casualties." Government regulators laughing over whiskey glasses.
And at the end of the video—
An image of a single syringe.
With Raian's initials carved into the metal.
Lina stood frozen, watching the footage.
Ayan cursed under his breath. "He kept all of this hidden. Even from us."
Aria swallowed. "He knew we'd never let him take the fall alone."
Noah monitored the darknet chats. "They're losing it. Activist groups are organizing. Protestors are marching. Investors are pulling out."
Then his face changed. "Wait… no, no…"
Aria rushed to his side. "What?"
He turned the screen toward her.
It showed a live stream.
Malik.
Standing at a podium, flanked by bodyguards.
And behind him…
A massive LED screen displaying her face.
Aria's.
"This," Malik said into the mic, "is the face of the traitor. The one leaking false data. A mentally unstable ex-surgeon suffering from trauma and delusions. She was manipulated by Raian, a terrorist and criminal. She is dangerous. If you see her—report her. Do not approach."
Gasps filled the internet stream. Reporters shouted. But Malik smiled, calm, rehearsed.
He had turned the game.
---
Aria stumbled back, nausea creeping into her throat.
"They're calling me a terrorist," she whispered.
"They're scared of you," Lina said, grabbing her hand. "That's why they're panicking."
Ayan clenched his jaw. "He just put a bounty on your head."
Noah nodded grimly. "We need to move. Tonight."
"But where?" Aria asked.
A long silence stretched before Ishaan spoke.
"I know a place. Old rebel safehouse. Abandoned. He won't expect it."
Everyone looked at him in surprise.
Lina raised a brow. "Since when do you know about rebel safehouses?"
Ishaan shrugged. "We all had past lives, didn't we?"
---
Hours later
The group packed in silence.
Aria moved quickly, her mind racing. Malik had flipped the narrative. They were now fugitives in the public eye.
But her resolve didn't waver.
In the middle of packing, she found herself alone for a moment. She opened the locket Raian had given her—the one shaped like a bullet.
Inside, there was no picture.
Only a single grain of rice, carved with microscopic words:
> "You live. I burn."
She touched it gently.
"I'm not letting you burn alone, Raian."
---
Back at the prison
A guard stumbled into the hallway, blood spilling from his throat.
One by one, cameras blinked off.
In cell block D, something moved in the shadows.
Someone.
A whisper passed from mouth to mouth—
"He's coming."
And in the dark, Raian slowly stood up… eyes cold.
They had no idea what he was about to do.