Chapter 1: Just Another Night

It was late. The streets were quieter than usual, the quiet that didn't feel peaceful, more like
shadows following.

Mira Cave straightened the hem of her kurti around herself as she walked. Her shift at the café
had run over again. Tips were low. Her feet hurt. And her stomach was empty, but she didn't
have the energy to think about food. She just wanted to get home and heat some leftovers
from lunch before getting to bed.

The alley she always avoided stared back at her like a dare. The main road was longer, and she
was already drained, so she stood there for a second, weighing her options.

She chose the alley.

It wasn't the first time.

Still, something felt different tonight.

Maybe it was how the air seemed heavier. Or how her shadow stretched longer than it should.
Perhaps it was just stress. Maybe she was just feeling a little paranoid.

She told herself that, but her gut didn't believe it. The sound of her heels echoes through the
pale walls, but also the deliberate steps following her.

Vantar—this was the name everyone used when referring to him, watched her from the other
side of the street. The distance between them lengthened when he decided to follow her for
the first time after six days of watching her, hoodie pulled low, cigarette burning slowly
between his fingers.

He'd been watching her for days. She didn't know, of course. No one ever did cause if you saw
him like truely saw him you werent the target but instead a warning.

He knew her schedule. The way she always ordered the cheapest meal at work. The little
things—how she nibbled on the sleeve of her sweater when she was thinking, how her hands
get sweaty when she gets anxious or sometimes even loses herself in counting each pearl on
her bracelet, tracing the smooth rounded surface. He often caught her glancing over her
shoulder as if someone was watching her.

She wasn't wrong.

He'd gone through her records. Followed her. Listened. Learned.

And she was far from normal.

But a job was a job. And this one paid well. Really well.

Vantar didn't care about innocence. Not anymore. Feelings got people killed. He'd shut that
part of himself off a long time ago.

So why was this girl getting under his skin?

He wasn't supposed to feel anything. But she had something in her that stirred his cells. Quiet
strength. That mix of softness and fight. Something he didn't expect. And the more he watched,
the harder it got to pull away.

Still, he told himself this was nothing.

She was a name. A face. A job.

That's all.

Mira felt it again. That weird sensation was crawling up her spine like someone was behind her,
just far enough not to see, but close enough to feel.

She paused in the middle of the alley, her breath growing stronger as her hand reached into her
pocket, fingers wrapping around the tiny pepper spray she had never used.

She glanced behind her legs, feeling shallow.

Empty.

But it didn't feel empty. The yellow street light flickered, casting peculiar shadows on the wall
before getting swallowed in the night.

'Why did I take this alley today? Stupid me. These walls feel like they will gulp me down. Stop
panicking", she sighed.

She walked faster now. Her heartbeat picked up. Her breathing is a little quicker. She didn't
know what she was afraid of—but something told her this night wasn't just another walk home.

She couldn't see him.

However, his presence was undoubtedly sensed.

Her building came into view at the end of the street. The sight of it hit her like a breath of fresh
warm air, wrapped her from his cold glare. She was almost safe. Almost.
As she hurriedly paced down the street towards her appartment each step urging for urgency.
The sound of her payal chimed rhythmicly louder than usual hasting towards the stair. Clutching
her keys tightly between her fingers, she flew up the stairs two steps at a time, echoeing her
eagerness. Reaching the top, her entrance door screamed for her presence in anticipation.

With a frustrated sigh, she fumbled with her keys, twisting and turning them in the stubborn
lock. "For God’s sake, what’s wrong with this thing?" she muttered under her breath. As she
struggled, she felt a dark shadow sheathing over the keyhole. A chill ran down her spine as she
slowly turned around, dread pooling in her stomach at the ominous physique staring at her.

Even from where she stood, she could tell—he wasn't just some guy. There was something
about the way he stood. Sharp, tense, like a storm waiting to break.

Vantar.

It was him. The one from the rumours. The one who wasn't supposed to be real.

He looked at her, her whole body tensed.

Chills ran down her vertebrae with a fine line of sweat clinging to her back sticking her kurta to
her spine.

Vantar (thinking):

She's scared. I can feel it. Still… there's something in her eyes. She's not going to go down
easily. And that should make this harder.

"Mira Cave," he said.

His voice wasn't loud. But it cut through the night like a blade. Cold. Calm. Like someone who
didn't need to shout to make people listen. He didnt just took space he filled it.

She stood there frozen, shallow breathing, her keys dug into her palm deep enough, but she
couldn't feel any pain. She couldn't feel anything except the weight of his gaze penetrating
deep inside her soul.

He took one step toward her. Broad shoulders, six feet something, all covered in black.

She was five-three on a good day, but next to him, she felt like his shadow, but didn't let it
flitter.

“You knew I’d come,” he said, voice low and flat, like a blade just before it slices.
“I guessed.”

He took another step forward.

She stepped back instinctively — just a fraction — and hit the door behind her. Nowhere to go.

Her heart thundered in her ears, but she kept her face still. Neutral. Calm. A lie.

“Smart girl,” he murmured.

“You’ve made powerful enemies,” he said. “That article… very brave. But stupid.”

“Considering it, you aren't the first one to say it,” she answered, keeping her voice steady,
though her throat felt tight. Part of her wanted to run away, but she knew this day would come
eventually; she just didn't expect it to be so soon.

“Then you understand why I’m here.”

“To silence me?” she asked, lifting her chin slightly. “Make an example?” that if u stand for
truth u are removed from this world.

He nodded once. “Exactly that.”

The tube light above him flickered again. His face shifted in and out of shadow — eyes sharp,
unreadable. A scar ran near his jawline, barely visible in the dim light.

“You think killing me will fix everything?” Mira asked.

She adjusted her grip on the key — her knuckles white now, fingers slick with sweat. The metal
felt like ice.

“I’m not scared of dying,” she said.

His eyes locked onto hers.

“You’re lying,” he said, voice colder now.

Maybe she was. But more than that, she was prepared for a situation like this. I knew that
standing on her ground was the only thing that could save her.

“I’m terrified,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t change what I did. Or why?”

He didn’t move. His eyes — grey and cold — stared down into hers without flinching. He didn’t
blink, didn’t breathe wrong. It felt like he was trying to reach inside her skull.

She had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. The difference in their bodies was massive. He
could crush her, probably with one hand. But somehow… she stood her ground.

“I wrote the truth,” she said. “You kill me, someone else will find it. It’s out there. Too late to
bury.”

“You think anyone cares about your truth?” he said, stepping even closer. “You think this is
about justice?”
His voice dropped lower.

“I’m not your villain, Mira. I’m just the blade someone else sharpened to remove you. Do you
think i give a shit about ur bravery?"

The air between them intensified.

She could feel the heat rising up her neck, the sweat crawling down her spine. But still, she
looked him in the eye.

“Then do it,” she whispered. “If that’s who you are… kill me.”

A long silence.

He just looked at her. His eyes didn’t soften but narrowed. His face didn’t twitch. But something
shifted — something subtle — like the click of a switch.

“I didn’t expect you to beg,” he said finally.

“I’m not begging,” she said, “I’m daring you.” Her voice didn't stutter this time.

A slow, surprised exhale from him. Almost a laugh — but not quite.

“You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“You think I’ll die quiet?”

Then, just like that, he stepped back.

Her lungs finally remembered how to breathe.

“Not today,” he said, turning away.

“What?”

“You heard me.” He didn’t look back. “Not today.” The heat of anger blazed in his eyes. "Cause
you don't get to tell me what to do", he added, his tone sharp, assertive and promising that he
won't leave her alive the next time they meet.

And just like that, the corridor was empty again.

Only the buzzing light, the heat, and her heartbeat remained.

And the girl who had just seen her death in front of her didn't even dare to blink.

The heavy door creaked open with a rusty groan, revealing the shadows of the empty house. A
chilling breeze swept through the vacant rooms, touched her skin. While the house stood silent
and deserted, her mind was anything but quiet—it was rushed with thoughts and emotions.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she collapsed on the floor, her legs too weak to support
her any longer. Wrapping her arms around herself in a tight embrace, she sought comfort in the
darkness, but the suffocating loneliness flashed her back to reality, that in this moment, no one
would care if she simply vanished.
Chapter 2: The Truth She Wrote

People always told Mira not to dig too deep.

"Let it go, Mira," they said. "It's in the past. You're just a student. What do you think you're
gonna do against them?"

But she never listened.

Because when your parents are framed and ruined, called thieves by the same man they
worked for, and then die with their names still dirty, you don't let it go.

You burn for the truth.

And Mira did.

Mira, a 21-year-old college student majoring in journalism. Who inspired her into this field?
None other than the finance minister, Jay Shah. A so-called respected businessman and
minister, well-known for his impactful work in the field. He was an inspiration to many, but for
Mira, he was her sole purpose for living. Her ultimate aim was to bring about his downfall in
much the same way he had destroyed her parents. She has been striving for it for the past five
years.

It all started five years ago.

Mira still remembered the sound of the front door slamming the night her parents were
arrested. She had been studying in the living room when the CBI officers barged in. No
explanation or prior warnings, just a direct order.

The cold metal handcuffs around the wrists of her parents, their eyes searching for answers. It
was a night that shattered her once blissful life into a nightmare, which took a turn into a
bursting hell of darkness and despair.

Her father, Manohar Cave, had worked for the finance ministry for two decades. An honest,
simple man. The kind who wore the same leather sandals for ten years and reused envelopes to
take notes. Her mother, Sheela, handled accounts in the same department. Quiet, efficient.
Never once took a bribe, not even for a favour.

But none of that mattered when the news broke.

It was everywhere — channels, newspapers, WhatsApp forwards. Even her school group was
talking about it.

Jay Shah, the finance minister, held a press conference the next day. Tall and full of righteous
anger, he pointed fingers and claimed his ministry had "zero tolerance for corruption." He
promised a full investigation. He made them the face of dishonesty, and himself rose to fame
for exposing and arresting their own employees, despite the party recognition which he
scarcely valued. Jay Shah soon became the symbol of honesty with flaunting wealth, which only
heightened his reputation among the masses.

But what no one knew while sailing the other boat was… slowly uncovered over the next few
years by Mira, was that Jay Shah had been running a network of illegal shell companies through
department funds. Her father had stumbled upon a few files by accident. Her mother had
refused to sign a manipulated balance sheet.

And that’s when it began.

False records planted. Fake witnesses arranged. A quiet, quick destruction of their reputation.
No one asked questions.

Mira had watched it all. The hearings. The raids. The whispered phone calls. Her parents didn’t
survive the stress. Her father collapsed in jail six months in. Her mother followed two weeks
later, by suicide.

Mira, now an orphan, felt shattered and isolated from the world around her. The harsh reality
was that society had never embraced her; who would want to associate with the daughter of a
scoundrel? In her darkest moments, when despair and hatred wrapped around her like a thick
fog, her grandmother stepped in to her breath. With gentle arms, she enveloped Mira in
warmth, providing love until her passing two years ago. Since then, the ache of loss deepened,
leaving Mira feeling more alone than ever in a world that seemed to reject her.

After college, she took on jobs, ate once a day, and focused on her research.

Three years later, she had a full report. Paper trails. Fake invoices. Overseas transfers. She
wrote it all down.

And published it.

Under her real name.

Jay Shah ignored it at first. Then, slowly, the threats started — anonymous messages, fake
police notices, attempts to get her evicted. Then the silence. Until now, the final warning-
Vantar.

But she wasn't going to run away, as she had already lost everything once before. Now, it was
simply time to settle the score.