ASI Jitender Sharma had been carrying the folder under his arm since morning, waiting for the right moment. The fluorescent lights in the police headquarters flickered faintly, casting tired shadows across the corridors. He walked past junior constables, clerks, and orderlies, all busy with routine cases, their voices a steady hum in the background. But his mind was fixed on only one matter: the Ridge incident.

  When he reached the office door with the brass nameplate that read Deputy Commissioner of Police – Pradyuman Singh, he paused. Through the frosted glass, he could see the bulky silhouette of his superior moving about. Jitender drew a breath, straightened his uniform, and knocked.

  “Come in,” came the voice, deep but impatient.

  Jitender stepped in. The office smelled of cigar smoke and sandalwood polish. Behind a massive mahogany desk sat DCP Pradyuman, a heavyset man in his late fifties. His face was wide, his mustache trimmed too neatly to be natural, and his belly pressed against the buttons of his shirt. A half-empty glass of whiskey stood near the files stacked on his table, even though it was barely noon.

  “Ah, Jitender,” Pradyuman said without looking up from a report he was signing. “What brings you here? You look like a man carrying the weight of the world.”

  “Sir, I wanted to discuss the Ridge accident,” Jitender said carefully. He placed the folder on the desk and slid it forward. “There are discrepancies in the report SynerTech submitted.”

  Pradyuman’s eyes flicked up briefly. “Discrepancies?”

  “Yes, sir. The autopsy reports we received from the medical board don’t match the official statement. The victims, all twelve of them, were already dead ten to twelve hours before the reported leak. Which means….”

  “Which means nothing,” Pradyuman cut in sharply, snapping the folder shut before Jitender could continue. “It was an accident. The report is closed. SynerTech has already compensated the families. Why are you wasting your time on this?”

  “With respect, sir,” Jitender pressed, standing straighter, “it cannot be dismissed as an accident. The timing of death suggests staging. Someone planted the bodies before the leak. That points to foul play. And if SynerTech’s report is inaccurate”

  “Enough.” Pradyuman’s voice rose, echoing against the office walls. He leaned forward, his jowls quivering with the effort. “Do you understand the weight of what you’re suggesting? This is not some street brawl or petty theft. You are pointing fingers at one of the most powerful companies in the city. SynerTech provides half the technological contracts for the Home Ministry. If you start poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, you’ll bring heat not just on yourself but on this entire department.”

  Jitender didn’t flinch, though the weight in his chest grew heavier. “Sir, I became an officer to uphold the law. If there is evidence of manipulation, it is my duty to ”

  “Your duty,” Pradyuman snapped, slamming a fat palm on the desk, “is to follow orders. And my order is to drop it. Treat it as an accident, nothing more. If you continue down this path, Jitender, you will find yourself reassigned to a desk job in some forgotten corner of the state. Or worse.”

  The silence that followed was suffocating. Jitender’s jaw tightened. He had seen his superior angry before, but not rattled like this. The man’s fingers twitched near the glass of whiskey, his eyes darting toward the closed door as if making sure no one was listening. For a man who usually hid his dealings behind oily charm, Pradyuman was showing too much agitation.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I understand, sir,” Jitender said after a long pause, keeping his tone neutral. “If that is your instruction, I will comply.”

  Pradyuman leaned back, exhaling as if a storm had passed. He waved dismissively. “Good. Now go back to your regular cases. Leave SynerTech alone. They are not our concern.”

  Jitender gave a curt nod, picked up his folder, and walked out. He kept his face blank as he crossed the corridor, but inside, his thoughts were burning.

  By the time he reached the parking lot, his hands had curled into fists around the folder. The breeze outside was thick with dust and the faint roar of traffic from the main road. He loosened his collar and sat down on the bonnet of his jeep, staring at the building.

  If Pradyuman was that desperate to bury the matter, it meant the truth was far more dangerous than Jitender had imagined. He replayed the autopsy details in his mind: organs showing signs of chemical exposure long before the supposed leak, blood clotting patterns inconsistent with sudden death, and the eerie similarity of all twelve corpses, as if they had been prepared.

  Prepared for what?

  He lit a cigarette, something he rarely allowed himself while on duty, and took a slow drag. His instincts screamed at him. SynerTech had staged the entire event. And his superior was either protecting them willingly or was too afraid to do otherwise.

  That left Jitender with a choice. He could bury the evidence, keep his post safe, and watch Delhi fall deeper under the grip of men like Kairav. Or he could pursue the truth quietly, outside the department’s reach, knowing full well it might cost him everything.

  He crushed the cigarette under his shoe and straightened again. The folder under his arm no longer felt like a burden. It felt like a weapon.

  Inside the office above, Pradyuman probably thought he had silenced him. But Jitender Sharma was not a man who silenced easily.

  For now, he would play along. But the real investigation would begin outside the walls of the department. Alone, if necessary.

  The warehouse sat like a carcass at the edge of Dwarka, its steel shutters half-rusted, its walls mottled with peeling paint. The surrounding lanes were deserted, too quiet for a city that never slept. Inside, dim light bulbs buzzed overhead, throwing long shadows across crates stacked against the walls.

  Anchal Rathod checked her watch for the third time. Her team was already in position Pawan by the entrance, Suchitra near the side door, and Mansi perched on a crate with her laptop balanced on her knees. Rajni Deswal sat a few meters away, silent, arms folded, watching the dust swirl in the pale light.

  The sound of a motorbike broke the stillness. A single beam of light swept across the cracked concrete as Shivam pulled up outside. A second figure climbed off the back, adjusting her scarf.

  Mansi frowned. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  The heavy door screeched open, and Shivam stepped inside with Bhumika close behind. Her eyes were wide, scanning the abandoned space with curiosity and unease.

  “Shivam,” Suchitra said flatly, “you said she wasn’t supposed to be involved.”

  “She wasn’t,” Aman added as he entered a moment later with Naina and Dikshant in tow. His tone was sharper than usual. “So why is she here now?”

  Shivam’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady. “Because hiding things from her isn’t working anymore. She’s been having visions. Building things, she shouldn’t know how to build. She deserves to hear the truth from us, not in fragments.”

  Bhumika glanced at the others, unsettled by the way every pair of eyes seemed to rest on her. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be part of,” she said softly. “Shivam only told me pieces.”

  “That’s the problem,” Naina muttered, folding her arms. “Pieces can get you killed.”

  Before the argument could grow, Anchal stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. “Enough. She’s here now. We can’t waste time on what should or shouldn’t have happened. What matters is why I called you.” She gestured toward the woman still seated in the shadows. “This is Professor Rajni Deswal. She claims to have proof that SynerTech is not just a corrupt corporation but a threat tied directly to what happened to all of us two years ago.”