Moscow, Three Days Later
It was snowing when the call came.
Devian sat alone in his hotel suite, top floor, windows blacked out, a half-empty glass of whisky untouched at his side. The city below buzzed with traffic and secrets, but his mind hadn't left Mumbai. "Boss," came the voice on the phone. We found her name. Meher Sharma. Twenty-three. College student. Devian didn't respond. "No criminal record. No known enemies. No history of drugs. Nothing. Quiet girl. "She didn't look quiet when she died," Devian murmured. "Someone made sure she screamed."
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✦ Mumbai, Earlier That Day
His orders were clear: "Find out who touched her. Then find out why no one protected her."
In 48 hours, his men had pulled files, hacked CCTV servers, traced numbers. Piece by piece, Meher's last day unfolded. She arrived at Club Inferno with her boyfriend, Aarav Malhotra. Her stepsister, Rhea Sharma, was with them. Footage showed Rhea whispering something to the bartender. A drink arrived. Meher drank it. Smiled. Faded. At 2:11 AM, she was led out — not through the main exit, but the back. Car with fake plates picked her up. At 2:36 AM, Devian's SUV almost hit her in the alley behind the club. Twenty-five minutes. That's all it took to destroy a girl.
The Trap Was Personal
Aarav's financials showed luxury splurges and payments linked to an older man: Ramesh Gulati Meher's step-uncle. Property disputes. A pending inheritance. Silent motives. "They wanted her erased," one of Devian's men said. "She was the heir to something. They used the club to get her alone."
Devian's silence thickened. He stared at the club footage — at Meher smiling, sipping a glass of water, adjusting her red dress, unaware that everyone around her was waiting for her to fall. The last thing she ever did was try to stand back up. One Name at a Time
By morning, the list was written:
Aarav Malhotra – dead man walking.
Rhea Sharma – snake in a silk dress.
Gulati – puppeteer.
Driver – ex-con.
Bartender – paid off. "No police," Devian said coldly.
"No mercy, He wasn't angry, He was calculating, He wasn't burning with rage. He was cooler than ice — and that made him more dangerous than ever. The Question That Wouldn't Leave
Why her?
What had this girl, this soft-spoken, barely-seen woman, done to deserve so much betrayal?. She didn't even try to run in that alley. She just fell. Like she already knew no one would come. "No one came for her," Devian whispered to himself. "Until me."
And though he didn't understand Hindi, he remembered what she murmured in his arms before going still, "Ek mauka aur milta toh… sab kuch alag hota." ("If I had just one more chance… everything would be different."). He didn't know what it meant, but it stayed with him.