Before them stood a bat, nails hammered viciously along its length, clutched in hands that held it with a strange, eerie calm. The figure moved slightly, and a flash of recognition struck Yug like lightning.

  The voice came, smooth, sarcastic, familiar.

  “Why are you here? But still… you took long enough, Yug.”

  Time seemed to stop. The group’s eyes widened, the horror and surprise mingling. The light fully revealed the person wielding the weapon.

  Anaya Kapoor.

  The way she said Yug's name— so casually, so knowingly— made Manav and Vivek instantly snap their heads towards him as if waiting for him to give them answers.

  But Yug just stood there, his eyes wide open, shock hitting him like a punch in the chest.

  "What— How did you get here, Anaya!?"

  For a moment, all of it turned quiet.

  Anaya slowly lowered her bat— slightly, but still dangerous— and her eyes were locked onto Yug's with a sense of calm familiarity.

  And when she finally spoke, her voice was dry, sharp and annoyingly calm.

  "The same reason as you."

  Vivek immediately let out a shaky exhale.

  "Oh, I guess… we have to deal with—"

  "Please, just shut up," Manav hissed, interrupting Vivek while hiding partly behind Yug. "Can't you see this rockstar-looking girl has nails on her bat. She would kill us."

  Anaya tilted her head, smirking slightly.

  "Relax, buddy. If I had to kill you, you wouldn't be speaking now."

  Yug didn't have to say anything. He just steadily walked towards her, the air full of doubts and questions.

  He stopped right in front of Anaya.

  "You guys think you're the only ones investigating?" she said.

  "Since when? Since the day Sahil took your parents' money too?"

  Manav raised an eyebrow, trying to look braver than he actually was.

  "My parents? Don't have any. And I don't need them to deal with idiots like you," Anaya turned back to Yug, "And yes, I've been investigating since the day I got to know about Sahil."

  ——————————————

  That night, on top of the roller coaster, Anaya's perspective turned upside down— the night she knew it was Sahil who messed her life up.

  "Jay…" Ronak's voice cracked, "Don't do this…"

  Jay didn't answer, but only his grip tightened, muscles trembling as the coaster moved.

  He looked at Harshit, who clung to his wrist, eyes looking with disbelief.

  "Jay!" Ronak shouted, outstretching his hands forward, as if to pull him back, "Please. Don't say anything."

  Jay's expression didn't change— calm, unshaken, but still under distress. His head turned towards Anaya, like he tried to plead something to her.

  "You've been wrong since the start." Jay continued, grip steady, "About him. About her."

  Anaya stood motionless. The words wrapped her around like a blanket too heavy to hold.

  Ronak's throat tightened. His face dropped, his fingers curling into a fist.

  He knew that tone. He'd heard it before— in the dark, in the quiet, Jay was the one who stayed years ago.

  "Ronak never revealed your secret," Jay looked at Ronak, and then to Anaya. "It was our old teacher, Sahil Malhotra."

  ——————————————

  Yug groaned softly, "Guys. Please. Let's all cooperate now— for a while."

  Manav leaned against the wall behind, arms crossed, clearly not impressed.

  "Cooperation, huh? I guess miracles do happen."

  "Another miracle could have happened that night, if your dad didn't forget to wear a co—" Anaya glared at Manav, swinging her bat aggressively in a circular motion.

  "Alright, arguing is wasting time," Yug jumped in, rubbing the back of his neck. "We need to work together to find Sahil."

  Vivek hesitated, occasionally glancing at Anaya.

  "I— I don't know. Can we… really trust her?"

  "She has the same goal. That's all we need."

  Yug reassured Vivek, resting a hand on his shoulder firmly.

  With a tense nod, Anaya stepped forward, leading the way with the bat hung loosely by her side.

  "If we handle him together, the final blow will totally be mine."

  As the opened the door in front, a narrow staircase spiraled down the dimly lit basement— which was already under a basement.

  Damp walls surrounded them, each step bouncing off stone and steel.

  Vivek's eyes scanned the shadows that seemed to twitch as they moved, his body shivering.

  "You think… you think there's a way through this place without—"

  "Without any traps?" Anaya finished, whispering slowly "Maybe. Maybe not. But don't let your guard down."

  Manav was at the rear, slightly detached from the other three. He quietly observed, mapping the path. He noticed subtle cues— a faint string on the floor, a protruding stone.

  He just smirked.

  The more they descended, the more oppressive the air turned. The sound of dripping water echoed, masking subtle noises.

  Yug's pulse quickened, senses straining. The walls seemed to get closer and narrower. The floor appeared as if it shuddered.

  Manav's grin tugged at his lips as he exhaled quietly from the back.

  "Oh… so it begins now."

  And in an instant, it did.

  The air shifted, almost too late for them to react.

  From the shadows, jagged wooden logs came swinging with violent precision.

  One slammed into Yug's chest so hard that it seemed like it cracked his ribs beneath his muscles.

  Pain shot through his body like electricity as he collapsed onto the cold, damp floor.

  Another log barelled onto Vivek that sent him skidding across the rough edge of a stone wall.

  Splinters impaled his arms and shoulders, sharp and biting into his skin

  Yug scrambled to regain his footing, only to trip over a taut wire. A wall panel swung open with a harsh metallic clank, revealing a swarm of Steel needles.

  One pierced into his calf, another deep into his thigh, and a final one under his foot.

  He roared with closed eyes, regaining control as pain radiated through his body.

  And when he finally opened his eyes, he saw a needle whistling past his temple, grazing his hair with a metallic tang that filled the air.

  Above Vivek, the ceiling shuddered as numerous small hidden spears shot down.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  They moved faster than thought, each one glinting in dim light like silver daggers.

  Vivek closed his eyes, accepting whatever came next, but the very next moment, Anaya stood in front of him.

  Her bat whirled, deflecting most of them as sparks flew when metal struck wood.

  But neither was Vivek lucky nor was Anaya fast enough— one of the spears grazed her neck, leaving a sharp cut and continued to puncture his shoulders, sending him to the ground with a grunt of pain and terror.

  Manav was quiet, unaffected by the traps. His heart was beating like a drum.

  He had seen traps, but never like these— planned, organised, dangerous.

  The trio slowly staggered towards the center, trying to catch their breath.

  Time seemed to slow down as the traps came to a halt for a while.

  For a heartbeat, they thought it had stopped.

  But then came another click.

  Barbed wires shot from the floor like writhing snakes. The wires lashed out, curling and twisting with terrifying speed.

  Yug, Anaya and Vivek barely noticed it before the wires wrapped around their necks, each one biting into flesh with cold, merciless precision.

  Blood splattered on the floor as the wires tightened— Yug noticed that the wires were being pulled back continuously.

  The metal scraped, cutting into skin, a cruel embrace to snap their necks.

  Yug struggled, fingers clawing at the cruel wires, his knuckles white. "Manav! Do— do something now!"

  Vivek's screams mixed with groans of pain, and Anaya's sharp sigh was the only sound she could manage with the wires cutting into her collarbone.

  Manav's mouth was wide open as he gulped with fear of what just happened right before his eyes— but he soon replaced it with an eerie grin.

  "Not my problem," he said, his voice annoyingly serene. "Rishabh wanted me to find Sahil. And I've done that."

  Manav turned around, his head shaking casually. Hands in pockets, he whistled a spine chilling tune lightly as he began to walk away.

  But then, a voice emerged from the shadows, soft yet icy, freezing him mid-step.

  "Good choice, kid."

  Manav's grin faltered, his heartbeat skipping— but just as quickly, he recovered.

  He disappeared into the darkness, leaving the others trapped, gasping and bleeding.

  ——————————————

  Rishabh, Tarun and Kritika halted in front of the Sector 17 Police Station, expecting chaos, officers, movement— something.

  But it seemed dead inside.

  The front hall was empty. Too empty.

  Not a chair scraped.

  Not a fan rotated.

  Not a paper lay scattered.

  Just an infuriating… silence.

  "This is a police station, right?" Kritika whispered, subconsciously peeling the paint off the wall.

  Rishabh frowned. The entire reception looked abandoned— phones left on the hook, dust collected on the counters and a faint smell of liquor in the air.

  Tarun stepped forward, staring at the place with suspicious eyes. Until—

  A burst of laughter exploded from deep inside the building, somewhere the three didn't look.

  Loud. Sloppy. Out of rhythm.

  The three tensed instantly.

  Tarun moved almost instantly, following the source of the sound through a dim corridor till the three reached a room glowing with yellow lights inside.

  Inside—

  Every policeman on duty sat around a table, drunk, laughing, slamming cards on the table as chips scattered all around

  Empty bottles lay in every corner, while some officers were slumped on the chairs, some were snoring as they held the cards.

  Not a single one noticed the kids enter the room.

  Kritika cleared her throat loudly.

  "Excuse me— we need—"

  "Want to join us?" an officer slurred without looking up. "Get a bottle and hop in!"

  Another officer snickered, munching on chips, "Those are minors— so no poker, no drinks."

  Tarun clenched his jaw but held back as Kritika held her arm before he could argue.

  But now, Rishabh stepped forward to speak.

  "We need to check some files and FIRs. It's for our… school project." He spoke, holding his fist tight in frustration.

  "Oh, really?" a constable, one of the most drunk ones, turned. "School is now making you murderers?"

  Another officer began, opening one of his buttons as he played his cards.

  "Who cares? Go find whatever you want. We're really busy."

  Busy losing in poker.

  The three narrowed their eyes in disgust.

  But they turned back anyway.

  Outside the room, they tracked through the corridors to find numerous shelves stacked with dusty FIRs, complaint registers, half torn folders and evidence bags.

  Rishabh and Kritika immediately got to work.

  Kritika slid out files and flipped rapidly.

  Rishabh moved methodically— checking dates and labels silently in his mind.

  Meanwhile, Tarun drifted away.

  He wandered down deeper into the building, eyes scrutinising everything meticulously.

  He didn't need any paperwork— all he wanted was a clue, anything out of place… or maybe just a snack.

  He checked drawers, boxes, cabinets, and every nook and corner. And each place gave him the same result— nothing.

  "A packet of biscuit could work too…" he muttered.

  On the other hand, papers rustled softly.

  The tubelights occasionally flickered.

  The atmosphere felt tense than usual.

  And just like that, minutes passed.

  Rishabh and Kritika kept sorting, observing and glancing around at times.

  The silence around them seemed pressurising.

  But all of a sudden—

  A loud scrape echoed— a sound that made the two jerk their heads up.

  And in a matter of seconds, Tarun's voice came thundering through the whole area.

  "Guys, I found something!"

  Tarun's hand pushed forward.

  A panel on the wall flickered.

  He stepped back, eyes narrowing.

  "It's a door!"

  ——————————————

  The barbed wires dug deeper into the throats of Yug, Vivek and Anaya— thin metallic thorns biting the skin off, drawing red trails of blood that slid down their collars.

  Their legs trembled, each eye watered and breaths sliced into ragged, wheezing gasps.

  And then—

  Footsteps.

  Soft and delicate. Completely unfitting for the horror that was all around them.

  From the darkness, a figure emerged bit by bit.

  It was Sahil Malhotra, who was nothing like the monster he was imagined to be.

  His hair was nearly parted down the middle— not a strand out of its place. His face was clean-shaven, soft, cheeks holding a boyish roundness. There wasn't a single scar, only subtle gentleness.

  His eyes were calm and warm, the kind that people automatically trusted. He wore a pastel coloured sweatshirt layered under a brown jacket. Though his build was like a beginner fighter, nothing about his screamed danger.

  Except for his smile.

  It lingered a little too long.

  A little too still.

  A little too knowing.

  He stepped forward slowly, his hands at his back like he was welcoming guests to his home.

  "Well," he said pleasantly, "welcome. You really walked right into it. Every step exactly as I planned. And now…" his smile widened even far apart.

  "…you're all going to die here."

  Manav, on the other hand, had a changed look on his face— he froze all of a sudden.

  Footsteps, more than one, echoed from the opposite direction. Quick and purposeful, they approached unexpectedly fast.

  Manav didn't think twice. He slipped into a corner, holding his breath as three shadows stretched across the basement.

  And finally, he saw them.

  Three distant silhouettes.

  Three pairs of feet with a strange familiar sense.

  Back inside, Sahil quietly examined the children suffering like it was a hobby he loved.

  He chuckled quietly— a chuckle no one expected would come out from suffering people.

  But then—

  A dangerous chuckle cut through Sahil's laugh.

  Anaya smirked, despite the wires almost engraved into her throat by then.

  She loosened the grip on her bat… and let it fall to the ground with a hard thunk.

  "There's always… a smarter fish in the sea," she rasped out, looking at Yug's and Vivek's confused faces. But her eyes glinted, "…or even a fatter one."

  Sahil paused.

  But the real action began.

  Rishabh rushed inside from the side, gripping Anaya's bat from the edge like a spear. He hurled it towards Sahil with every ounce of strength in his body.

  The air whistled as the bat spun in the air.

  But Rishabh wasn't fast or strong enough.

  Sahil barely tilted his head to the side— dodging the bat by inches, not a change in expression.

  "It's cute you tried." he said softly.

  But those few seconds were enough.

  From behind him, Kritika lunged with a sharp, practised strike aimed at his side. It was a move he drilled again and again for her film.

  But hardly when she hit him, Sahil pulled her by her hair— not even slightly gently.

  Her scream ripped through the chamber as he twisted and yanked her head back before brutally shoving her aside.

  His face didn't change one bit.

  Then, he turned back… only to be staggered.

  Tarun's forearms were drenched with blood.

  Thick streaks of blood ran down from his hand.

  It was all because his fingers were wrapped around the barbed wires— pulling them apart.

  Muscles strained. Skin tore. Blood dripped.

  But Tarun didn't stop for even a while. Until—

  SNAP!

  The wires recoiled back from where they were launched— Yug, Anaya and Vivek fell on the floor, gasping for air and clutching their bloodied throats.

  Tarun stood over them, palms shredded and breath slow— but his eyes never left Sahil.

  And only then, Sahil's face twitched into something different from calmness.

  But in the very next moment, he regained his innocent boyish look, smiling calmly.

  "Aw," he said, tilting his head. "That looked like it hurt. But I wanted more of your sufferings."

  His voice was so warm that he made the room feel colder.

  Rishabh instinctively moved forward, placing him between Sahil and the others.

  "It's you who'll end here, you sadist maniac."

  Without his smile faltering, Sahil raised his palm to land a sharp slap on Rishabh's face.

  But before he could, his arms stopped in the air.

  Now it was Tarun who stood before Sahil— holding Sahil's forearm with his hand that dripped all red. He spoke flatly.

  "Rishabh, I can totally see he's not sad."

  Yug facepalmed, hiding is face in shame.

  "That's not what he means. Sahil loves when someone is in immense pain."

  "And that doesn't sound good!"

  Tarun, out of pure instinct and force, swung a powerful punch right at Sahil's abdomen.

  His fist connected, but the only one who flinched… was Tarun.

  A sharp ringing pain shot through his arm. His knuckles burst with fresh blood, the injury raw and pulsing.

  Sahil looked at him like a child who had successfully pranked someone.

  With the same face that now mocked others, lifted the hem his shirt to show a layer, an armor of needles underneath.

  "Oops!" Sahil giggled.

  The basement was chaos. And Sahil's unnerving smile only sharpened the edge of the group's desperation. One by one, they attacked.

  Rishabh lunged at Sahil first, fists ready but slow. But calmly, Sahil grabbed the bat with nail and swung it at him.

  Rishabh flinched back, shoulder jolting from the impact. But the bat was never meant to land.

  “My bad,” Sahil said with a sly smirk—and in the same motion, his leg shot up, landing a brutal kick to Rishabh’s groin. Rishabh doubled over, gasping, the fight knocked out of him before it even began.

  Kritika surged forward next , her movements sharp but all too predictable. Sahil feigned a kick in the wrong direction.

  Kritika followed, thinking she had an opening—but it was exactly what he wanted.

  Before she could react further, Sahil’s hand shot out, grabbing her by the shoulder he had injured.

  Pain flared as he slammed her against the wall, jarring her body.

  The very kick he had faked struck a hidden trigger in the floor. In an instant, spikes shot upward with deadly precision, aimed directly at Kritika.

  Horror flashed across her face—until Anaya shoved her out of the path just in time.

  But the danger was on Anaya, and it was Tarun who saved her.

  The spikes tore into his back, blood spurted and ran down his torso. He gritted his teeth, but tried to look like nothing happened.

  The room hung in tense silence for a heartbeat. Every eye turned toward the next move—Yug stepping forward, jaw clenched, determination flashing in his gaze.

  Yug stepped forward, wiping blood from his lip, forcing his breath to steady.

  This time, he didn’t aim high—he dropped low, sprinting in with a sudden dive at Sahil’s legs.

  Sahil barely reacted, his expression bored.

  “A low sweep? Really?”

  But before he could counter, a strained grunt echoed from behind him.

  Vivek—shaking and bleeding—hurled the barbed wire that had almost ripped his own neck.

  The metal coils whistled through the air, deadly and desperate.

  Sahil heard it.

  His head snapped back instantly, instincts razor-sharp. He twisted, avoiding the wire entirely, eyes locking onto Vivek with a sick grin.

  That half-second… was all Yug needed.

  Sliding in on one knee, Yug swung the jagged metal shard he’d hidden in his palm—an unfair move, a dirty move, but a necessary one.

  The blade sliced deep across Sahil’s ankles.

  His smile—always too long, too calm—finally broke. Just for a second.

  A flicker of real pain. Real surprise.

  Sahil staggered.

  And for the first time, the monster looked human.

  The others moved in beside him, forming a shaky but united line.

  Tarun, bleeding heavily from the spikes.

  Kritika holding her shoulder, but standing firm.

  Rishabh, bruised and furious.

  Anaya tightening her grip on the bat now returned to her hands.

  Vivek trembled, but refused to back down now.

  Six of them— now stood side by side.

  One single witty monster before them.

  Anaya lifted the bat close to her shoulder, smirking unevenly.

  “Round two, babysitter.”

  They all charged toward Sahil— every fist, every blade, every ounce of fury thrown forward.

  But Sahil? He only smiled.

  ——————————————

  Outside the old Sector-17 police station, the night was silent except for the uneven footsteps of a drunk constable stumbling out into the courtyard. He swayed, unzipped, and began urinating directly into a dying tree, humming tunelessly.

  He didn’t notice the two shadows that slid in beside him—one on each side—until they were already unzipping and humming with the constable.

  Both wore dark suits.

  Both stood too straight.

  Both felt wrong for a place like this.

  The constable blinked confusingly at the figure on his right.

  One of the men had long dark hair tied in a tight man-bun, a quiver of arrows slinging across his back, and a grin that looked like it belonged to someone who enjoyed breaking bones for sport.

  He tilted his head, glanced down in disappointment, and muttered casually,

  “Hmm. Looks too small.”

  Before the constable could respond, the man on the left replied,

  “No—he’s talking about the tree we’re peeing in front of.”

  His voice was calm and professional.

  His right fist was wrapped in a smooth black glove, and the faint moonlight glinted off something metallic beneath the fabric—like steel instead of skin.

  The constable scoffed, offended by the comment he thought he understood.

  “Yours… is smaller,” he slurred, completely unaware because of the drinking, at the man with the gloved hand.

  The suited man didn’t speak.

  He didn’t warn.

  "Oh you've got yourself in real trouble."

  The man with the man-bun hyped the other man up like something exciting was about to happen.

  The gloved man simply raised his fist and dropped the constable to the ground with one clean hit—a punch that made no sound except the thud of body hitting dirt.

  The long-haired man zipped up, shaking his head with a disappointed sigh.

  “That was a little too professional, Mr. Kabir Mahajan.”

  The one with the glove—Kabir—flexed his fingers in one fluid motion

  And a faint metallic scrape was heard beneath the leather.

  “No one’s going to recognize me, Mr. Arjun Sethi,” he replied. “They'll never do.”

  Arjun, grazing his man-bun, smirked, patting the unconscious constable’s cheek with the tip of his boot.

  “Good. Let’s get to work.”

  Side by side, they walked toward the entrance of the police station.

  The door creaked open, spilling a stripe of harsh fluorescent light across their silhouettes as they pushed each other like little kids

  And as they crossed the threshold, both said in perfect sync, their voices echoing down the hall.

  “You really have a small one.”