6 PM.
Six hours until the meeting.
Six hours to prepare for something he didn't understand.
Bharat sat in the safe house—bare walls, flickering lights, the smell of old paint and desperation. Ayesha was on the couch, bandaged and pale but awake. Mira paced. The way she always did when she was thinking.
Peacock's laptop sat open on the table.
Showing something impossible.
"Say that again," Bharat said.
"Imperial Secure Holdings. Vault Level 3." Peacock's voice through the speakers, tinny but clear. "47 kilograms of Oath-Gold. Consecrated offerings from twelve different temples."
"Security?"
"Biometric locks. Armed guards. Motion sensors. Pressure plates. Divine wards."
Pause.
"And it gets better."
"How?"
"Rajan's not the only one with assets in that vault."
Blueprints appeared on screen.
Vault layout. Floor plans. Guard rotations.
And a highlighted section.
Subsection 11.
Right next to Rajan's vault.
"Who owns that?" Mira asked.
"Dev Kapur."
Silence.
The kind that felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.
"My father," Mira said quietly.
"Your father."
"What's he storing there?"
"Gold. Jewels. Cash. Corporate assets." Peacock's voice was flat. Factual. "And one very interesting document."
"What document?"
"A trust fund. In your name."
Mira stopped pacing.
"What?"
"Your mother set it up before she died. 500 million rupees. Meant to be released to you on your 25th birthday."
Pause.
"Which was three months ago."
"I never got it."
"Because your father froze the account."
"He can't do that."
"He did. Filed an injunction. Claimed you were mentally unfit to manage the assets."
Pause.
"Cited your 'erratic behavior.' Your 'association with dangerous individuals.'"
Mira's hands clenched.
"He means you."
Bharat nodded.
"He's been planning this."
"For how long?"
"Since the auction. Since you chose Bharat over the family business."
New window opened on the laptop.
Legal documents. Court filings.
All dated within the last seventy-two hours.
"He's not just freezing your trust fund," Peacock continued. "He's cutting you off completely. Bank accounts. Credit cards. Property access."
"He's disowning you."
Mira sat down.
Slow.
Like her legs had stopped working.
"All of it?"
"All of it."
"When?"
"The order goes into effect tomorrow morning. 9 AM."
Bharat looked at the clock.
6:47 PM.
Fourteen hours.
Fourteen hours until Mira lost everything.
"Can we fight it?" he asked.
"In court? Sure. Take about six months. Maybe a year."
"We don't have a year."
"I know."
Pause.
"But there's another option."
"What?"
"The trust document. The original. It's in your father's vault."
"So?"
"So if you had the original, you could challenge the freeze. Prove your mother's intent. Force the banks to release the funds."
Pause.
"But you'd need the document."
"Which is in a vault I can't access."
"Correct."
Ayesha spoke.
First time in twenty minutes.
"You're suggesting we rob two vaults."
"I'm suggesting," Peacock said carefully, "that if you're already planning to rob Rajan's vault... you might as well hit your father's too."
"That's insane."
"That's efficient."
Bharat looked at Mira.
"It's your call."
"My call?"
"Your father. Your money. Your choice."
She was quiet.
Long enough that Bharat thought she might say no.
Might walk away.
Choose family over survival.
Then she looked up.
"He disowned me first."
"Mira—"
"He chose his pride over his daughter. Over my mother's wishes."
Pause.
"So yes. We rob both vaults."
Peacock's laugh crackled through the speakers.
"I knew I liked you."
"Don't get excited. We still don't know how to do it."
**"Actually..." Peacock typed. "I might have a way."
New window.
Employee records. Shift schedules.
One name highlighted.
Arjun Malhotra. Security Technician. 14 years of service.
"Who's this?" Bharat asked.
"Inside man. Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"He's been flagged for suspicious activity. Late-night access. Unauthorized vault checks."
"So he's dirty."
"Or paranoid. Or both."
Pause.
"Either way, he has access. And he's worked there long enough to know the systems."
"You think he's the one who texted me?"
"Good chance. The signal originated from the security office. That's his domain."
"Why would he help us?"
"Maybe he wants a cut. Maybe he hates Rajan. Maybe he's got his own reasons."
Pause.
"Or maybe he's bait."
Bharat checked the time.
7:15 PM.
Four hours forty-five minutes until the meeting.
"If it's a trap, we walk into it blind."
"Unless we don't walk in blind."
Ayesha sat up.
Winced.
"You want me to scout it."
"You're injured."
"I'm functional."
"Barely."
"So are you."
Fair point.
"What do you need?" Bharat asked.
"Cameras. Blueprints. Anything that shows the warehouse layout."
Peacock typed. Images appeared.
Warehouse 7. Old shipping district.
Three stories. Multiple entry points.
Abandoned for five years.
Perfect for an ambush.
Or a meeting.
"I'll go in at 11 PM," Ayesha said. "Sweep the perimeter. Identify threats."
"And if it's crawling with Rajan's people?"
"Then you don't go."
"And we lose our lead."
"Better than losing your life."
Mira's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Froze.
"Who is it?" Bharat asked.
"My father."
She answered.
Put it on speaker.
"Mira." Dev's voice. Smooth. Controlled."I know you're with him."
"I don't know what you're—"
"Don't insult my intelligence. You're with Bharat Singh."
Pause.
"The man who's going to get you killed."
Bharat's jaw tightened.
Said nothing.
Let Dev talk.
"Come home," Dev continued. "Tonight. Walk away from this... situation. And I'll unfreeze your accounts."
"You can't freeze what's mine."
"I already did. Court order. Effective tomorrow."
"That's illegal."
"It's protective. You're not in your right mind, Mira. You need help."
"I need you to stay out of my life."
"I'm your father."
"You're a coward who's using the legal system to control me."
Pause.
"I'm not coming home."
Dev's voice hardened.
"Then you'll have nothing. No money. No home. No security."
"I'll have my freedom."
"Freedom doesn't pay rent."
"Neither does being your puppet."
Silence on the other end.
Then:
"You're making a mistake."
"I'm making a choice."
"Same thing."
The line went dead.
Mira set the phone down.
Hands shaking.
"He's really doing it."
"He's scared," Bharat said.
"Of what?"
"Of losing you. Of being wrong."
Pause.
"Men like your father don't admit they're wrong. They just burn everything down and call it justified."
System notification appeared.
For Mira.
First time.
She stared at it.
STATUS UPDATE: MIRA KAPUR
Financial assets: FROZEN
Family support: SEVERED
Security detail: WITHDRAWN
Current net worth: ₹1,247 (personal account)
WARNING: Target is now vulnerable to external threats
Recommendation: Acquire resources immediately
"Did you see that?" she whispered.
"I saw."
"The system's tracking me now?"
"It tracks everyone involved in divine contracts."
Pause.
"You're involved. So it tracks you."
"One thousand rupees." Mira laughed.Bitter."I went from heiress to broke in fourteen hours."
"You're not broke."
"I have a thousand rupees."
"You have us."
She looked at him.
Then at Ayesha.
Then at the laptop.
At Peacock's data. The vault blueprints. The impossible plan.
"This is insane."
"Completely."
"We have no money. No weapons. No inside help."
"Yet."
"Bharat—"
"We'll figure it out."
"How?"
He looked at the countdown.
18 days, 4 hours.
At the quest timer.
7 days.
At Mira's frozen assets.
At Ayesha's bandages.
At the warehouse meeting in four hours.
"We do what desperate people do."
"Which is?"
"We improvise."
10:45 PM.
Ayesha left.
Black clothes. Bandages hidden. Moving like a shadow despite the injury.
Professional.
The kind of professional that made Bharat wonder who she'd been before the temple.
Before the god chose her.
Before everything went wrong.
"She'll be fine," Mira said.
"I know."
"You're worried anyway."
"I'm always worried."
"That's new."
"What is?"
"You caring."
Bharat looked at her.
"I always cared."
"No. You always planned. There's a difference."
Pause.
"Now you care. And it's making you sloppy."
"Sloppy?"
"Emotional. You gave ten days to save your mother. You're planning a heist to save me."
"And?"
"And when this goes wrong—when you have to choose between the mission and the people—you're going to hesitate."
"I won't."
"You will."
Pause.
"Because you're not the same person who started this."
She was right.
He wasn't.
The Bharat who'd walked into that auction was cold. Calculating. Willing to sacrifice anything for the mission.
This Bharat?
This Bharat had a mother to save. A team to protect. A countdown that felt more like a noose every day.
"Maybe that's a good thing," he said.
"Maybe it'll get you killed."
"Then I'll die human."
Mira smiled.
Sad. Small.
"That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said."
"I know."
"I meant it as a compliment."
11:52 PM.
Ayesha's voice through the earpiece.
"Warehouse is clear. No hostiles visible."
"You sure?"
"Seventy percent."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's the best I can do with a bullet wound and no equipment."
Pause.
"There's someone inside. Alone. Waiting."
"Armed?"
"Can't tell. But they're not moving like military."
"Civilian?"
"Or someone pretending to be."
Bharat checked his gear.
No weapons.
No shield—too weak to summon it without collapsing.
Just the Codex. And faith that whoever was waiting wouldn't kill him immediately.
"I'm going in."
"Bharat—" Mira started.
"Stay here. If I'm not out in thirty minutes, call Peacock."
"And tell him what?"
"Tell him to burn it all down."
Midnight.
Warehouse 7.
Bharat stepped inside.
Dark. Cold.
Smell of rust and old concrete.
Footsteps echoing.
His. And someone else's.
"Bharat Singh."
A voice from the shadows.
Male. Young. Nervous.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who wants the same thing you do."
"Which is?"
"To destroy Rajan."
The figure stepped into the light.
Not a soldier.
Not a mercenary.
A kid.
Twenty-two. Maybe twenty-three.
Security uniform. Imperial Secure Holdings badge.
Arjun Malhotra.
"You work at the bank."
"I did. Until two hours ago."
"What happened?"
"I got fired."
Pause.
"For asking too many questions about vault subsection 12."
Bharat's pulse kicked up.
"Rajan's vault."
"Yes."
"Why were you asking questions?"
"Because I wanted to know what he was hiding."
Pause.
"What he's been hiding for three years."
"You know about the Oath-Gold."
"Everyone knows about the Oath-Gold. It's the worst-kept secret in the bank."
"Then why hasn't anyone done anything?"
"Because Rajan pays well. And people who cross him end up dead."
Pause.
"Or worse."
"What's worse than dead?"
"Cursed."
Arjun pulled up his sleeve.
A mark. Black. Spreading.
Like ink poisoning his veins.
"What is that?"
"Divine punishment. I touched the vault seal. Tried to bypass it."
Pause.
"The system marked me."
System notification appeared.
Visible to Bharat.
Not to Arjun.
DIVINE CURSE DETECTED
Target: Arjun Malhotra
Curse type: Oath-Breaker's Mark
Duration: 14 days
Effect: Progressive vitality drain
Termination: Death by divine rejection
"You're dying."
"I know."
"Why tell me?"
"Because you're dying too."
Arjun looked at him.
Really looked.
"I can see it. The countdown. Floating next to your head."
Pause.
"You have 18 days."
"How can you see that?"
"The curse. It lets me see other marked souls."
Pause.
"We're the same, Bharat. Both dying. Both desperate."
"What do you want?"
"I want in."
"In?"
"Your heist. I know you're planning to hit Rajan's vault."
"And you want a cut."
"I want the antidote."
"What antidote?"
"The one Rajan has. For divine curses."
Pause.
"It's in the vault. With the gold."
Bharat's mind raced.
Antidote.
For curses.
If it existed—if it worked—
"How do you know about this?"
"I saw the inventory. Before they fired me."
"And you're sure it's real?"
"I'm sure Rajan's spent three million rupees protecting it."
Pause.
"Which means it's either real or he's an idiot."
"And Rajan's not an idiot."
"What's the catch?"
"No catch. I help you get in. You get the gold. I get the antidote."
Pause.
"And maybe I don't die."
Bharat studied him.
Desperate. Young. Cursed.
Either the perfect inside man.
Or the perfect trap.
"I need to think about it."
"You have four days. That's when my curse kills me."
"And the heist?"
"Needs to happen before then."
Pause.
"Or we're both dead."
Arjun handed him a USB drive.
"Everything I know. Vault layouts. Guard schedules. Biometric overrides."
"Why give this to me now?"
"Because if you don't trust me, you'll at least trust the data."
Pause.
"And because I'm out of options."
He turned to leave.
Stopped.
"Bharat?"
"What?"
"The antidote. If we get it..."
Pause.
"Can it cure you too?"
Bharat looked at his countdown.
18 days, 3 hours.
At the quest.
At the impossible heist.
At the kid with the curse spreading up his arm.
"I don't know."
"Then we'd better find out."
Arjun left.
Footsteps fading into the dark.
Gone.
Bharat stood alone.
USB drive in hand.
Countdown ticking.
The weight of impossible choices pressing down.
His phone buzzed.
Mira.
[MIRA]: Well?
[BHARAT]: We have an inside man.
[MIRA]: Can we trust him?
[BHARAT]: No.
[MIRA]: Are we working with him anyway?
[BHARAT]: Yes.
[MIRA]: This is insane.
[BHARAT]: I know.
[MIRA]: When?
[BHARAT]: Four days.
[MIRA]: That's not enough time.
[BHARAT]: It's all we have.
He walked out.
Cold air hitting him like a fist.
The trembling worse now.
The countdown relentless.
The heist impossible.
But possible.
Barely.
If everything went perfect.
If no one betrayed anyone.
If the curse didn't kill them first.
Bharat looked at the sky.
No stars.
Just smog and city lights.
Mumbai never slept.
Neither would he.
Not until this was over.
Not until he'd stolen enough gold to buy back his life.
Or died trying.
The question wasn't whether they'd survive.
Was whether they'd survive with enough humanity left to matter.