After my long day shift, I finally went home. The moment I stepped inside, I tossed my phone on the table, loosened my shoulders, and collapsed onto the sofa. The silence in the room was oddly comforting, but my body screamed exhaustion. What a day- long, chaotic, and heavy with things I didn't want to think about.
My eyes drifted toward the photo frame on the table. It was a picture of my mom and me- she was sitting on the sofa, smiling softly, and I stood behind her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. Her smile was pure, glowing with warmth that always made our home feel alive. I wasn't smiling in that photo; my expression was calm, protective. It wasn't about looking happy- it was about guarding her happiness.
I exhaled, a heavy sigh that carried years of memories. The man who once took her smile away… had come back. He disappeared when she needed him most and returned just when she'd finally learned to smile again. Would I be able to protect that smile one more time? Would she be able to forgive him if she knew he was alive? She had lived her life believing he was dead, while I- foolishly or fearfully- knew the truth all along. I kept running from him, thinking distance would make things easier. But now, fate had dragged me back to the same point where it all began. The past stood right in front of me, staring with a cruel grin, as if mocking me- reminding me that no matter how far I ran, I could never escape.
I pulled off my hoodie, tossed it aside, and lay down on the sofa. Sleep didn't come easily- it felt heavy, filled with shadows of memories I didn't want to relive.
The next morning, determination replaced exhaustion. Today, I was going to show Arwant his place. I needed control, confidence, and precision- qualities he once made me doubt. I dressed with intent: a sleek, all-black ensemble that balanced authority and style. The smooth leather jacket gave a bold edge, the charcoal polo shirt beneath added calm refinement, and the tailored trousers brought structure. A slim silver-buckled belt tied everything together. The monochrome palette gave me the aura I wanted- quiet confidence that demanded attention without asking for it.
Grabbing my phone and keys, I headed out. The city lights shimmered across my windshield as I drove my Scorpio toward headquarters, every passing signal blurring into purpose.
At the DIG's office, I knocked once. "Sir!"
"Come in, KayKay" his voice came, steady and commanding. He gestured for me to sit.
I took my seat across from him with unshaken composure, placing my car keys deliberately on his desk. "I want to talk about Mahesh's case" I said firmly.
He leaned back, studying me. "Vishal already mentioned you're interested. We were looking for someone to replace Mr. Verma as well."
"So… will you assign it to me?" I asked, unsure if he was talking about me or just stating facts.
"Mr. KayKay" he began, in that practiced tone of authority, "you're a capable officer, sure I want you to handle this case but I want your main focus on the drug case. The CBI's been trying to take it over."
His words lit a spark of anger inside me, a slow, steady burn. I clenched my jaw but kept my tone calm. Damn this drug case. "okay"
He sighed, meeting my gaze. "I think it's connected."
I leaned forward slightly. "Yes, sir. But it's look more psychotic- same method, same sequence. Everything's connected. It's not random."
He narrowed his eyes. "You sound desperate."
"Maybe I am" I said. "Whoever did this didn't just kill- they challenged the entire system. And yes, I'm desperate- desperate for public safety, and for answers."
I paused for a second. Since childhood, I've wanted to handle a case like this- a true psychotic case. Maybe that's why I joined the force, ignoring the fact that my father might someday sit above me in rank. But that's not the point. The point is that I can solve this.
He stayed silent for a moment, then nodded. "I see your determination. I'll think about it."
Without another word, I stood and walked out of his office. My pulse was still racing, anger bubbling beneath the surface.
In my cabin, I dropped into my chair and rested my forearms on the table, trying to breathe through the frustration. A soft knock broke my thoughts.
"KayKay" came Vishal's voice.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Come in."
Vishal entered, holding a brown envelope. "Here's the report on Mahesh" he said, placing it on the desk. I motioned for him to sit.
He sat across from me, a mix of excitement and grimness on his face. "It looks like the work of a total psycho. Whoever did this wanted the victim to feel everything- to experience the pain alive."
I opened the envelope slowly and began reading the report.
Forensic Report Summary: Case No. 217/NITAZEN
Victim: Mahesh Yadav
Age: 32
Cause of Death: Combined effects of Nitazen intoxication and severe blunt-force trauma to the skull.
Findings:
Toxicology: Presence of a Nitazen derivative confirmed in bloodstream and tissue samples. Concentration levels indicate rapid system failure within 3–5 minutes of injection.
Cranial Injury: Massive depressed skull fracture on the left temporal and parietal regions caused by repeated impact with a heavy metal object.
Vocal Cords: Surgically severed but non-fatal. Precision suggests intent to silence the victim while keeping him alive.
Fingernails: All ten forcibly removed while alive- evidence of swelling and active bleeding confirms torture.
Facial Burns: Postmortem acid burns concentrated on the left half of the face. Acid identified as industrial-grade sulfuric. Symbolic, not for concealment.
Defensive Wounds: None. Victim was restrained or unconscious.
Time of Death: Between 12:00 AM – 1:30 AM.
Conclusion:
The victim was drugged with Nitazen, rendered voiceless, tortured, and killed with medical precision. The act was controlled, deliberate, and ritualistic, signs of a highly intelligent, sadistic offender.
I stared at the report for a moment, my expression hardening. "I need the CCTV footage from the studio between 11 and 3 a.m" I ordered.
Vishal nodded quickly and made a note.
Whoever this person was- they weren't just a psycho. They were something else. Methodical. Calculated. The kind who takes their time, keeping the victim alive just to watch the suffering unfold. Nitazen injected, nails removed, vocal cords cut, skull shattered, acid poured…
If this was a serial killer, he was brilliant. If it was a psycho, we were in deeper danger than we imagined.