December 28th, 2029. Nilgiri Hills.
The mountains stretched in dark folds beneath the starlit sky, each curve blanketed in silence and mist. The road wound like a whisper through dense trees, the kind that had listened to secrets for centuries and never once spoken them aloud.
The car moved slow, deliberate. Inside, Aanya sat upright, not in fear—but anticipation. Her eyes scanned the thick canopy, fingers steady on her lap, and her heart measured in precise beats.
Next to her, Dev said nothing. But she could tell his mind was mapping the terrain, counting exits, watching for patterns in the shadows.
They weren't here to talk.
They were here to take something back.
The safehouse was nothing like the ones Aanya had seen before. No luxury. No modernity. Just stone, steel, and a sense of exile. It sat near the edge of a cliff, half-camouflaged into the terrain, surrounded by nothing but quiet.
Mrinal was waiting by the door.
Unarmed. Unmoved. Almost serene.
"You made good time," he said.
Aanya stepped out of the vehicle first. "I always do."
Dev stayed close, one hand resting by his side, never far from reach.
Mrinal led them inside.
No small talk.
No delay.
Just silence.
The room they entered was small—cabin-like—with thick wooden beams, sealed windows, and only one dim lamp in the corner.
Mrinal poured himself tea.
None offered.
"I assume you've come for the key," he said.
Aanya remained standing. "You know what's on that drive."
"I helped build the network. Of course I do."
Dev stepped forward. "Then why give it to them?"
Mrinal didn't look at him. "Because systems protect stability. And your return threatens equilibrium."
"You mean truth," Aanya snapped.
"No," Mrinal replied. "I mean scale. The truth without order is just chaos with a halo."
Aanya walked to the table and placed the drive down. "Give us the key."
Mrinal stared at the small silver device like it was an old photograph.
"Do you even know what happens if you unlock it?" he asked.
"Yes."
"No, you don't. This isn't just data. It's a blueprint. For the fall of governments. The reclassification of power. Once it's out, you won't just be a target. You'll be a precedent."
Aanya didn't blink. "Then let history learn."
"You sound like your father," Mrinal said quietly.
"Good," she replied. "That means I'm not wasting his legacy."
He paused for a long moment.
Then stood. Walked to a locked cabinet in the far wall. Entered a sequence by memory—twelve digits, a pattern carved into his mind over decades.
From inside, he retrieved a single device. A key drive.
He held it up.
"Once I give this to you, there's no turning back."
"I already passed the point of no return," she said.
"You'll destroy them. And they'll destroy everything around you trying to bury the ashes."
"Then they should have left the fire alone."
He looked at her, then slowly handed over the key.
She took it. Firm. Calm.
Dev watched closely.
But something shifted in Mrinal's face. A flicker. A hesitation.
And Dev saw it.
He moved instantly.
Grabbed Aanya. Pulled her to the ground.
A half-second later, the back wall exploded.
Shrapnel. Smoke. Noise.
Then silence.
When the dust cleared, three masked figures stood inside the ruined cabin.
Consortium.
Dev rolled up, gun drawn. Fired once—missed on purpose. The second shot hit one in the shoulder.
Aanya ducked behind the table, shielding the drive.
Mrinal didn't move. He stared at the intruders. Then at Aanya.
"I didn't call them," he said.
Dev tackled the nearest figure. A fight in close quarters—fast, brutal. He disarmed one, broke another's arm.
Aanya used the chaos to run—through the side hallway, down into the hidden storage vault beneath the cabin.
She locked the reinforced door behind her.
Heart hammering.
The key and drive clutched in her hands.
Outside, Dev held his ground until the final figure fled.
Then silence returned.
Blood on his arm.
Breathing shallow.
Mrinal remained still.
Dev walked up to him.
"If you didn't call them, they were already watching."
Mrinal nodded slowly. "They're not watching anymore. They're moving."
Dev turned. "Aanya?"
"I'm here," came her voice from the vault speaker.
She unlocked the door.
Still holding the drives.
Unshaken.
They didn't speak again until they were back in the car.
Mrinal remained behind. He chose it.
"They'll come again," he said. "But next time, they won't ask questions."
Aanya met his gaze through the rear window.
"Neither will I."
Back in Mumbai, Rishad had already cleared the decryption rig. Dev loaded both drives. The room went dark as the firewall kicked in.
One minute passed.
Two.
Then:
Welcome.
Dozens of folders unlocked.
Codenames.
Bank trails.
Fake IDs tied to real people in real power.
One folder simply titled:
VENOM.
Aanya opened it.
Inside: Documents detailing a covert initiative to embed Consortium agents inside global biotech and AI firms.
One of them—Rathore Tech.
And the name of the embedded asset?
RISHAD.
Dev moved before Aanya did.
But Rishad was already gone.
His chair spun slowly. His laptop still logged in.
A note lay on the keyboard:
"Forgive me. Some debts were written in blood, not ink."
Aanya stood still.
Not in shock.
In revelation.
Dev looked at her.
"What now?"
She didn't answer.
She picked up her pen.
Wrote one line:
"A crown built on betrayal needs no throne. Only fire."
Then she turned to Dev.
"We end it. Now."