The interrogation room smelled like fear.
And lies.
Mostly lies.
Bharat sat across from Vikram Desai—mid-level temple accountant, Rajan's right hand for fifteen years, and the man who'd just spent three hours insisting he knew nothing about the ledgers.
He was lying.
Bharat could see it.
Could feel it in the way the man's contract flickered at the edges—a thousand small obligations binding him to silence, to loyalty, to keeping secrets that would get him killed if they ever got out.
Countdown: 15:47:22
Less than sixteen hours.
Sixteen hours to break a curse, save a girl, and burn down a system that had been running on blood for decades.
Sixteen hours to do the impossible.
Or die trying.
"Let's try this again," Bharat said quietly.
His voice was steady. His hands weren't. The tremor had started an hour ago—small, almost imperceptible. But it was there. Getting worse.
The curse was accelerating.
"I've told you everything I know," Vikram said.
"You've told me nothing."
"Because there's nothing to tell."
"Then why is your contract screaming?"
Silence.
Vikram's face went pale.
"I don't know what you're—"
"Yes you do. I can see it. The bindings. The oaths. The promises you made to keep your mouth shut. And I can see them breaking. Right now. Because you know I have the authority to void them."
That was a bluff.
Mostly.
Bharat's new position as Director of Temple Affairs gave him access—records, files, personnel. But whether he could actually dissolve binding contracts? That was untested territory.
But Vikram didn't know that.
"You can't—"
"Can't I?"
Bharat leaned forward. Let the contract vision sharpen—let Vikram see that he was SEEING. That there were no more secrets in this room.
"Tell me where Rajan keeps the reserve funds. Tell me who he pays off. Tell me who else is involved."
"If I tell you, they'll kill me."
"If you don't, I'll void your contract and let the temple take everything you've promised them. Your house. Your savings. Your daughter's college fund. Everything."
Long pause.
Then:
"You're a bastard."
"I'm desperate. There's a difference."
Vikram broke.
Took twenty minutes.
But he broke.
Names. Locations. Payment schedules. Shell companies. Everything.
Peacock was in the corner, recording every word. Her face was grim.
"This is bigger than we thought," she muttered.
"It always is."
"Half the city council is on this list. The police commissioner. Three judges. A goddamn senator."
"Then we burn them all."
"With what army? We've got you, me, and a curse that's going to kill you in less than sixteen hours."
"Then we work fast."
That's when Vikram's phone rang.
Bharat grabbed it before he could.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Silence.
Then:
A scream.
High. Terrified. Female.
Ayesha.
Bharat's blood turned to ice.
"Who is this?"
A voice—smooth, cultured, utterly calm:
"Director Shah. How nice of you to join your father's organization. I'm sure he's very proud."
"WHERE IS SHE?"
"The girl? Safe. For now. Whether she stays that way depends on you."
"What do you want?"
"The ledgers. The evidence. Everything you stole from Rajan's estate. Bring it to the old Mehta factory on the docks. One hour. Come alone."
"And if I don't?"
"Then the girl becomes the next harvest. And we'll make sure it's slow."
The line went dead.
Bharat stood.
Too fast.
The room tilted.
His vision blurred—not the contract sight, something else. Something worse.
He could hear them now.
The voices.
Not whispers anymore.
Screams.
Thousands of them.
Every person who'd ever been chosen. Every harvest. Every death.
All of them in his head at once.
"Bharat!"
Peacock's voice. Far away. Like she was shouting through water.
"BHARAT!"
Closer now.
Hands on his shoulders. Shaking him.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're having a seizure or a breakdown or—"
"I said I'M FINE."
He pushed her off.
Steadied himself against the table.
Breathed.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
The voices faded.
Not gone.
Just… quieter.
Waiting.
"What just happened?" Peacock asked quietly.
"The curse. It's accelerating. Breaking down the barriers between me and everyone who's died before."
"Can you still function?"
"I don't have a choice."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
He turned to Vikram.
The man was pressed against the wall. Eyes wide. Terrified.
"You set this up," Bharat said quietly.
"I—"
"You signaled them. Somehow. During the interrogation. Let them know I was getting close."
"They have my daughter. My DAUGHTER. What was I supposed to do?"
"Not trade one girl's life for another."
"Easy for you to say. You don't have kids."
"No. But I have a countdown. And less than sixteen hours to save everyone including your daughter if she's on their list too."
Vikram's face crumpled.
"She's not. They promised. If I helped them, they'd leave her alone."
"And you believed them?"
"I didn't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice. You just made the wrong one."
Bharat grabbed his jacket.
"Where are you going?" Peacock asked.
"The factory. To get Ayesha."
"Alone? That's suicide."
"Probably."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"No."
"Bharat—"
"NO. This is a trap. They're trying to kill me and take the evidence. If I bring you, they'll just kill both of us."
"So what's the plan?"
"I go in. Make them think I'm trading the ledgers. Use the contract vision to find their weak points. Buy someone. Break someone. Turn the whole thing inside out."
"That's insane."
"It's all I have."
He turned to Vikram.
"You're coming with me."
"WHAT?"
"You set this up. You're going to help me tear it down."
"They'll kill me!"
"They'll kill you anyway. At least this way you die doing something useful."
Countdown: 15:23:17
The car ride to the docks was silent.
Bharat drove.
Vikram sat in the passenger seat, shaking.
Peacock had wanted to follow. Bharat had threatened to void her security clearance if she tried.
She'd backed off.
But he knew she wouldn't stay away.
Knew she'd find some way to be there when things went bad.
Because they were going to go bad.
They always did.
The voices were getting louder.
Not screaming anymore.
Talking.
Whispering.
Telling him things.
"You can't save her."
"You're already dead."
"The curse always wins."
"Always."
He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Tried to focus on the road.
On the mission.
On anything except the sound of ghosts laughing in his skull.
"Are you okay?" Vikram asked quietly.
"No."
"What's happening to you?"
"I'm dying. Slowly. Painfully. And if I don't break this curse in the next fifteen hours, I'll join every other person who's tried and failed."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because someone has to."
"That's not a reason."
"It's the only reason that matters."
The Mehta factory loomed ahead.
Old. Abandoned. The kind of place where bad things happened and nobody ever found the bodies.
Bharat parked two blocks away.
Got out.
Checked his gun.
One clip. Fifteen rounds.
Probably not enough.
Vikram followed. Reluctant. Terrified.
"What do I do?"
"Stay behind me. Don't speak unless I tell you to. And if I say run, you RUN. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Good."
They moved through the shadows.
Past rusted machinery and broken windows.
The factory was massive—three stories of industrial decay, every corner a potential ambush point.
Bharat's contract vision flickered on.
Showing him the bindings.
The people.
Six men. Heavily armed. Positioned around the main floor.
And in the center:
Ayesha.
Tied to a chair.
Alive.
But terrified.
"I can see them," Bharat whispered.
"How many?"
"Six. Plus whoever's in charge."
"That's too many."
"I know."
"So what do we do?"
Bharat smiled.
Cold.
Sharp.
"We cheat."
He stepped into the light.
Hands raised.
Empty.
"I'm here. Let her go."
A voice from the shadows:
"Director Shah. Right on time."
A man stepped forward.
Tall. Well-dressed. Familiar.
Suresh Kapoor. Construction magnate. First name on the benefactor list.
"You're running this?" Bharat asked.
"Someone has to. Rajan's been compromised. The council decided a more… direct approach was necessary."
"By kidnapping a fourteen-year-old girl?"
"By protecting our interests. The temple has survived for centuries because we understand the value of sacrifice. You're threatening that. We can't allow it."
"So you kill me and the problem goes away?"
"Essentially, yes."
Suresh smiled.
"You should've taken your father-in-law's offer. Divorced the girl. Taken the position. Lived."
"Living isn't the same as surviving."
"Profound. But irrelevant."
He gestured.
The six men moved closer.
Guns raised.
"Kill him."
That's when Bharat's vision went WHITE.
Not the contract sight.
Something else.
Something worse.
The voices SCREAMED.
All at once.
A thousand deaths.
A thousand screams.
A thousand moments of terror compressed into a single second.
He fell to his knees.
Couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Could only feel:
The weight of every soul the temple had ever consumed.
Pressing down on him.
Crushing him.
Breaking him.
"BHARAT!"
Ayesha's voice.
Distant.
Desperate.
He tried to answer.
Couldn't.
The gunmen were closer now.
Suresh was saying something.
But Bharat couldn't hear him over the SCREAMING.
Then:
A single voice.
Clear.
Familiar.
His own.
"Get up."
"I can't."
"GET UP."
"I'm dying."
"Not yet you're not. Not until you save her. Not until you break this. NOT UNTIL YOU WIN."
"I don't know how."
"Yes you do. You've always known. You just have to be willing to pay the price."
"What price?"
"Everything."
Bharat opened his eyes.
The world was sharp again.
Too sharp.
Every edge cutting.
Every shadow alive.
He could see EVERYTHING.
Every contract.
Every binding.
Every weakness.
And he knew exactly what to do.
He stood.
Slowly.
The gunmen hesitated.
"Shoot him," Suresh said.
They didn't.
Because Bharat was LOOKING at them.
Really looking.
And they could feel it.
"You," he said, pointing at the nearest gunman. "Your contract with the temple. It's conditional. You only get paid if you complete the job. But if the job is voided, the payment defaults to you anyway."
The man froze.
"How do you—"
"I can SEE it. And I'm offering you a better deal. Walk away now. Keep the money. Live."
"He's lying," Suresh said.
"Am I?"
Bharat pulled out his phone.
Showed the man his temple access credentials.
"As Director of Temple Affairs, I have the authority to void contracts and authorize emergency payments. You walk away, I wire you double what they're paying. Right now."
Silence.
Then:
"How much?"
"Fifty thousand. USD. In your account in sixty seconds."
The man lowered his gun.
"You're serious."
"I'm desperate. And desperate people pay well."
Bharat's fingers moved across the phone.
Transfer initiated.
The man's phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His eyes widened.
"Holy shit."
He turned to Suresh.
"Sorry boss. Nothing personal."
And walked out.
The other five men looked at each other.
Then at Bharat.
"Anyone else want to get paid?" Bharat asked.
"KILL HIM!" Suresh screamed.
But it was too late.
The dam had broken.
Three more men lowered their guns.
Walked.
Two remained.
Die-hards. True believers. Or just too scared of Suresh to leave.
"Fine," Bharat said. "We do this the hard way."
He drew his gun.
Fired.
Twice.
Both men went down.
Clean. Quick. Efficient.
Vikram stared.
"You just—"
"Yeah."
Bharat moved to Ayesha.
Cut her bonds.
"Are you okay?"
She was crying.
Shaking.
But alive.
"I thought—I thought they were going to—"
"They didn't. You're safe. I've got you."
He pulled her close.
Let her cry into his shoulder.
Over her head, he saw it:
The mark.
Fresh.
Burned into her left shoulder blade.
A symbol he didn't recognize.
But the contract vision DID.
It was a temple mark.
A binding.
A CLAIM.
"No," he whispered.**
"What?" Ayesha pulled back. "What's wrong?"
He turned her gently.
Looked at her shoulder.
The mark was still smoking.
Like a brand on cattle.
"They marked you," he said quietly.
"What? When?"
"Just now. Or sometime in the last hour. This is fresh."
"What does it mean?"
Bharat's blood ran cold.
"It means they're claiming you for the next harvest."
"But I'm not married. I haven't signed anything."
"You don't have to. If they mark you, you're bound. The temple can take you anytime they want."
"Can you break it?"
"I don't know."
Countdown: 14:58:43
"But I'm going to try."
Suresh was gone.
Must've run when the shooting started.
Coward.
Bharat's phone rang.
Dev.
He answered.
"I heard what happened," his father-in-law said quietly.
"How?"
"I have eyes everywhere. You just bought off temple security and killed two of Suresh's men."
"They kidnapped a girl."
"I know. And now you've started a war you can't win."
"Watch me."
"Bharat—"
"The temple marked her. They put a claim symbol on Ayesha. Why?"
Silence.
"Dev. WHY?"
"Because you're too close to breaking the curse. And they need insurance. If you succeed, they lose their primary harvest. So they're preparing a backup."
"They're going to sacrifice her instead."
"Yes."
"When?"
"Midnight. Same as yours. They'll run both rituals simultaneously. If one fails, the other completes."
"That's—"
"Efficient. Brutal. The way the temple has always operated."
Bharat looked at Ayesha.
At the mark still smoking on her shoulder.
"I'm going to stop them."
"You can't stop both. You have to choose. Your curse or hers. Your life or the girl's. That's the trap. That's what they've been planning all along."
"Then I break the trap."
"HOW?"
"I don't know yet. But I've got fourteen hours to figure it out."
He hung up.