By the time Shivam got back to his room that evening, the light outside had shifted to that late-orange haze before dusk. His laptop was still open on the SynerTech article he'd been reading in the morning. He stared at it for a moment, then closed the lid and reached for his phone.
He scrolled through his contacts until he found her name, Anchal Rathod.
Anchal wasn't just a friend. She had been in their group since school days, one of those people who could dismantle a problem faster than anyone else. Straight after graduating, she'd skipped the usual college route and joined her father's private investigation firm in Gurugram. Word was, she'd outpaced half the seasoned investigators there within her first year. Her father had taught her everything from surveillance tactics to lock-picking, and she had the instincts to match.
If anyone could help him cut through the corporate gloss and official statements, it was her.
The call connected on the second ring.
"Rathod Investigations, what urgent disaster are you dragging me into now?" Her voice had that same mix of quick wit and sharp edge he remembered.
"Good evening to you too," Shivam said dryly. "Got a minute?"
"For you? Two, if you're lucky. What's up?"
He didn't waste time. "Trip to the Ridge. NGO-led cleanup. We were split into groups, had these walkie-talkie types leading us. A drone shows up, scans us. I feel dizzy, so does Bhumika. Then a bunch of students collapse, but not the volunteers. University calls it heat exhaustion."
There was a pause on the other end. "And you're calling me because…?"
"Because now, forty to sixty bodies are pulled out of a tunnel right near where we stopped. Official story says gas leak. And the site's swarming with SynerTech people, not cops."
Her tone sharpened. "Urban tunnel gas leaks don't just… happen. Especially ones sealed weeks in advance. That's containment, not accident."
"Exactly. And now the posts from locals who live near the Ridge are disappearing from the internet. Forum threads, news comments, gone within hours."
He could hear her chair creak faintly in the background, the sound of someone leaning forward. "Alright. That's not random cleanup. That's curated narrative control."
"That's what I thought."
Another beat of silence, then she spoke, lower this time. "This isn't what it looks like, Shivam. I can't explain everything yet, but SynerTech isn't what it pretends to be. They're planning something big, bigger than you think. I need more time to connect the dots."
"How much time?"
"As much as I can get without tripping alarms. They've got deep hooks, political, corporate, defense contracts. You don't just poke this kind of thing without losing a hand."
He leaned against his desk, frowning. "So, you're telling me to sit tight?"
"I'm telling you,"She said, "don't do anything stupid while I work the angles. You've always had a bad habit of charging in before the ground stops moving."
"Someone's got to start moving," he muttered.
"Yeah," she replied, voice clipped now. "But not like this. I'll reach out when I've got something solid. Until then… keep your head down. And for God's sake, don't start tailing SynerTech vans on your bike. You're not in one of your action movies."
She hung up before he could promise anything.
Shivam set the phone down, staring at the faint reflection of the setting sun in his window. He could feel the restlessness building, coiling tight in his chest.
The call with Anchal left Shivam pacing the length of his room, each step making the restlessness worse. She wanted him to wait, to trust her to untangle this quietly.
He couldn't.
He'd been here before, that gnawing feeling in his gut that something was happening in the shadows while everyone else was told to look the other way. Waiting meant letting the trail grow cold. And right now, the Ridge wasn't just a place on a map. It was the one link between the trip, the drone, the missing students, and now the bodies.
By the time the sun had dipped below the rooftops, he'd already thrown on a black T-shirt, grabbed his backpack, and slung his helmet under his arm. His bike was parked at the far end of the compound, silent and waiting.
Downstairs, the living room was lit by the glow of the TV, his father's voice faint in the background talking to someone on the phone in his study. Dikshant was sprawled on the sofa with a snack, too busy scrolling on his phone to notice Shivam moving past.
Outside, the evening air was still heavy with leftover heat. He kicked the bike to life, the engine's low growl settling into a steady rhythm beneath him.
He told himself this was just a reconnaissance run. No risks, no direct confrontation. Just eyes and ears. But even as he turned toward the highway, he knew that was a lie.
The further he rode, the quieter it got, fewer cars, dimmer streetlights. The Ridge area at night had its own stillness, the kind that made every sound carry too far.
He slowed as the familiar gates came into view. The last time he'd seen them; they'd been manned by armed forest guards and swarming with volunteers. Tonight, there were no guards. No police barricade.
Instead, the clearing beyond was lit up by portable floodlights, casting long, sharp shadows against the trees.
And everywhere he looked, SynerTech.
White trucks with their logo on the side. Workers in matching grey coveralls hauling crates into the backs of vans. Cables snaking across the dirt toward a set of generators humming in the corner. The "EQUIPMENT – FRAGILE" trailer from the trip was hitched to a different vehicle now, ready to move.
It didn't look like an investigation. It looked like an evacuation.
Shivam cut the engine and let the bike roll silently to the side of the road, parking behind a screen of bushes. He pulled off his helmet, keeping low as he edged forward, the floodlights making it hard to see without being seen.
From here, he could hear snatches of conversation, clipped, purposeful. "…get the last unit loaded…"
"…Kairav said no delays…"
"…secure the container before sunrise…"
A forklift beeped in the distance. Someone slammed a truck door.
He stayed crouched, eyes locked on the scene. Every movement, every order being shouted, felt like pieces of a puzzle he wasn't supposed to see.
And then, just for a second, one of the workers turned toward the tree line, scanning the dark with a narrow-beam flashlight. The beam swept across the ground, then stopped, holding steady.
Right where Shivam was standing.