Unedited!!
Reyaksh's Pov:
Morning came slow, dull with the kind of haze that follows restless nights. I hadn’t slept much. Between the reports Kian sent and Laksh’s update from the outer post, the pattern was starting to take shape ... but pieces were missing. Always missing.
My footsteps echoed faintly against the corridor floor as I made my way toward her room,
I had told myself this was a simple matter ...paperwork, documentation, nothing else.
The truth was, she needed it.
Laksh had mentioned that without valid identification, we couldn’t officially keep her within the estate’s protection. No hospital, no travel clearance, not even a legal name if someone came asking. And though she was safe here for now, safety built on nothing doesn’t last.
Laksh had run the checks already. What came back wasn’t suspicious ... just… incomplete. A thin file from a defunct orphanage, a half-recorded history that ended too soon. An elopement maybe, or just a system that stopped caring once she walked out its doors. She had no one registered to her name.
That thought lingered longer than it should have.
So, this morning, I decided to ask her myself ... calmly, as if it were standard procedure. I’d tell her we were updating residence records. She didn’t need to know the rest ... that I wanted her existence anchored somewhere official before anyone else noticed the gap.
It was easier to manage shadows when they had a name on paper.
Still, I wasn’t sure how she would take it. She didn’t strike me as someone who liked being questioned ... especially after everything that happened. The last thing I wanted was to corner her into old memories again.
I stopped outside her door, hesitating for a fraction of a second. The morning light slid through the half-open window nearby, scattering across the walls in soft, golden strips.
I told myself it was just another conversation. Nothing more.
Then I knocked, twice ... not too firm, not too soft. Just enough for her to hear.
I waited after the first knock. Nothing.
Another ... still nothing.
The door was already a little ajar, its frame slightly misaligned, and a faint sound from within ... soft movement, fabric brushing against wood ... made me hesitate only for a second before I pushed it open.
The air inside was cool, laced with the faint scent of soap and something floral ... like jasmine, faint but unmistakable. Sunlight fell across the room in narrow lines, illuminating the small ripples of steam still lingering near the window.
And then she stepped out.
From the corner of the room, she emerged from the closet, her hands occupied with a towel she was using to dry her hair. Her hair was damp ... strands clinging to her shoulders, darker from the water.
Tiny droplets caught the morning light as they slid down the length of it, scattering reflections across her collarbone before disappearing into the fabric of her clothes where i don't dare to gaze.
For a heartbeat, I froze.
Not because of what I saw ... but because of what I felt. Something shifted in the air, subtle but sharp, a small break in the invisible distance I had built between us.
She didn’t notice me right away. She was still drying her hair, quiet, unaware that anyone had entered. The sight was… ordinary, human ... yet it caught me off guard in a way that battlefields never did.
She wore a soft blue suit, simple and unadorned, the kind that didn’t demand attention but somehow held it anyway. The fabric still carried the cool dampness from her bath ... the edges of the sleeves darker where water had seeped in. A few stray strands of her hair clung to her neck and shoulders, their ends wet enough to darken the cloth beneath.
The color ... that quiet blue ... softened her in a way I hadn’t expected. It brought out something gentle in her face, something that made the room feel less like a place for questioning and more like a space caught between unease and familiarity.
Her hands still held the towel loosely, and she looked divine.
For a moment, I couldn’t move.
I had seen countless faces under harsher lights, read expressions in the middle of chaos ... but this one felt different. Ordinary, almost fragile. It wasn’t her beauty that caught me off guard ... it was the quietness of it. The way it existed without trying.
When she finally looked up, her eyes widened ... surprise flickering, followed by quick embarrassment.
That was enough to pull me back. I straightened, tone steady again.
I stepped back immediately, jaw tightening, eyes shifting away. “You didn’t answer. I thought something was wrong.”
She shifted slightly, lowering her gaze.
“Ray…” she started, clutching the towel closer. “I... I didn’t hear you.”
She noticed my silence when i didn't answer , then lowered her face , a small drop of water slipped from the end of her hair and landed near her wrist. I looked away first.
“I was just...” she gestured vaguely toward the closet, voice small, still breathless from the suddenness of it.
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, but it lingered.
I cleared my throat, keeping my tone even. “I needed to speak with you. About some documents.”
Her brows furrowed slightly, confusion replacing the brief fluster. “Documents?”
“Yes. Personal identification ...anything official. It’s for residence records.”
I kept my eyes steady now, focusing on the desk beside her, anywhere but on her.
She nodded slowly, still visibly trying to settle from the surprise. “I think I have some papers… old ones. Not much.”
“That’ll do,” I said quietly.
But then she hesitated, fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the towel. Her eyes flickered ... not with fear, but something close to regret.
“Actually…” she began softly, “ They’re back at the place I used to stay.”
I tilted my head a little. “In the city? Mumbai?”
“Yes.” She swallowed, voice lower now. “In a small flat I rented near the old market. After… after I left the orphanage. I didn’t take much with me when I left that night. Just my phone and a bag, but...” she stopped, exhaling shakily, “...that got lost too.”
Her words trailed off, leaving a small silence that filled the space between us. She didn’t need to explain further. I already knew which night she meant.
I studied her for a moment. She wasn’t lying. Her tone was too raw, too natural. There was a kind of helpless honesty in the way she said it ... not defensive, just resigned.
“Alright,” I said finally, my voice even.
I looked at her, waiting.
For a long moment, I didn’t answer. The quiet stretched between us, soft but heavy ... only the sound of her damp hair dripping faintly onto the floor broke it.
Then I said, “We’ll go there.”
Her head lifted, startled. “What?”
“We’ll go to your flat,” I repeated. “Bring whatever you left behind. The documents, anything you need.”
She blinked, unsure. “But… if I’m going back there,” she said after a pause, her tone cautious, “then what’s the point of moving back here? I can stay there, in my flat.”
Her voice wasn’t defiant, only weary ... the kind that belonged to someone who’d never liked being someone else’s responsibility.
I let out a slow breath before answering. “You’re not safe there.”
She looked at me, confused. “Safe? Why...”
I cut her off gently, my tone low but firm. “You don’t need to know all of it now. Just understand ... that place isn’t secure anymore. Not for you.”
Her eyes searched mine, as if trying to read what I wasn’t saying. I didn’t offer anything more. Some truths were better held back until the ground beneath them was steady.
After a long silence, she nodded faintly ... not convinced, but accepting. “Alright,” she whispered.
Her fingers tightened around the towel again, the small gesture betraying the unease she tried to hide.
I turned slightly toward the door, my voice quieter now. “We’ll leave after breakfast. Laksh will make the arrangements.”
She gave a small nod, her expression unreadable ... part gratitude, part hesitation, part something in between.
As I stepped out into the corridor, the faint scent of jasmine still lingered in the air behind me ... and for reasons I couldn’t explain, it stayed with me longer than her words did.
.
.
The courtyard was washed in the dull gold of early afternoon when I stepped out. The car waited near the gate, its surface glinting faintly under the light. The air was still ... the kind that hummed with quiet anticipation before movement.
I had been on the phone with Laksh since morning, ensuring the route was clear, the city perimeter monitored. “Two exits mapped,” he reported through the encrypted line, his voice steady as always. “No unusual movement near the coordinates you sent.”
“Good,” I said, leaning against the car door, eyes scanning the open driveway. “Keep a channel open till we reach there. If anything changes, I want to know before it happens.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Everything else has been taken care of. You’re clear to move.”
I ended the call, slipping the device back into my pocket. For a moment, I stood there ... still, breathing in the silence, calculating every step ahead. I’d learned that distance didn’t measure danger. Intent did.
When she came out, she was quiet ... a light-colored dupatta drawn loosely over her shoulders, her eyes flicking toward the car, uncertain. There was something hesitant in her steps, as if she wasn’t sure how to exist in this moment.
“You’re ready,” I said simply.
She nodded. “Yes.”
I opened the passenger door for her, but she hesitated, glancing toward the back seat instead. “I can sit there,” she said softly. “It’s fine.”
I shook my head once. “No. Sit in the front.”
She blinked, surprised. “Front?”
“Yes,” I said, tone even, but my eyes met hers briefly ... steady, unflinching. “I’m driving.”
It wasn’t a request.
For a second, she looked like she might argue, but then she nodded silently and walked to the other side. Her movements were small, deliberate ...she smoothed her dupatta before sitting, her fingers resting lightly on her lap once the door shut.
I moved around to the driver’s side, started the engine. The low hum filled the air, breaking the stillness.
She turned slightly toward the window, watching the estate fade slowly behind the gate as we rolled forward. I caught a faint reflection of her face in the glass ... calm on the surface, but her eyes restless, lost somewhere between fear and remembrance.
I said nothing.
My hands stayed steady on the wheel, gaze fixed ahead. But a part of me ... the part I kept quiet ... remained acutely aware of her presence beside me, the quiet sound of her breathing mingling with the rhythm of the road.
For a man who had spent years driving through hostile borders and shadowed alleys, this was perhaps the first journey that felt uncertain ... not because of what lay ahead, but because of who sat beside me.
.
The road stretched long and quiet beneath the pale afternoon sky. Sparse trees lined the sides, their shadows breaking and folding over the car as we passed. The hum of the engine filled the silence between us ... steady, unspoken, almost comfortable now.
She hadn’t said much since we left. Only once in a while, she would look outside ... her gaze following the blur of fields and the occasional passing truck. There was a stillness to her I couldn’t quite read. Maybe weariness. Maybe thought.
I slowed the car as a small roadside place came into view ... nothing grand, just a quiet corner of shaded benches and a tea stall with smoke curling lazily upward. The kind of place no one looks twice at, which made it perfect.
I pulled over.
She glanced at me, puzzled. “Something wrong?”
“No,” I said, turning off the engine. “You haven’t eaten after morning.”
Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to deny it, but she didn’t. Instead, she gave a small nod. “I… didn’t realize.”
I stepped out first, scanning the place automatically ... habit, not choice. A few travelers, a family seated under a tree, the owner wiping down a wooden counter. Harmless. Safe enough.
When she stepped out, the breeze caught at her hair, still soft from the earlier wash. She tucked a few strands behind her ear and followed quietly as I gestured toward an empty table beneath a rusted tin shade.
We sat across from each other, the table between us marked with faint scratches and old stains. A boy came to take the order, and I kept it simple ... two plates of food, tea for both.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The sounds around were small ... the clink of utensils, a stray laugh from the next table, the hiss of the stove. I found my gaze drawn to her hands, the way she rested them near her cup, fingers tracing the rim absently.
“You don’t have to keep checking around,” she said after a moment, her voice quiet but clear. “No one’s following us.”
I looked at her, a faint corner of my mouth lifting. “You think that easily?”
She gave a small, almost tired smile. “I just think not everything is meant to chase you.”
That made me pause. I didn’t answer, only watched as she reached for her tea, blowing lightly over the rim before taking a careful sip. The gesture ... so simple ... felt strangely grounding.
The food arrived soon after. She ate slowly, neatly, as if trying to remember what it was like to sit at a table without fear pressing at the edges.
For a few minutes, time stopped moving. There was only the faint sunlight filtering through the shade, the warmth of the tea, and the silence that somehow no longer felt heavy.
When she finally looked up, her eyes met mine across the table. “Thank you,” she said softly.
I nodded once.
That was all.
But for reasons I couldn’t name, it lingered ... the sound of her voice, the calm that followed.
For a while, it was almost easy to forget. The place was ordinary ... the smell of tea leaves, the chatter of strangers, the slow rhythm of afternoon heat. Nothing unusual.
But then, something shifted.
A feeling first ... quiet, thin, but sharp enough to pull at the edges of my calm. It came like a weight in the air, a small wrongness that didn’t belong. My instincts caught it before my thoughts did.
Someone was watching.
I didn’t move right away. My gaze stayed where it was ... on the cup between my hands, on the way the light traced across its rim. But beneath that stillness, my mind moved fast ... mapping the place again, the angles, the faces, the possible exits.
A reflection flickered in the glass window beside us ... too steady to be coincidence.
I looked up slowly, scanning past the parked trucks, the lone tree at the edge of the road. Nothing. No one standing close enough. Yet the feeling didn’t leave.
Sayeera was still eating, unaware, her voice quiet when she said, “You’re not finishing yours.”
“Lost my appetite,” I muttered.
She frowned slightly. “Is something...”
“Finish up,” I said. My tone was sharper than I meant it to be.
Her spoon paused mid-air. She looked at me, reading something in my face, then set it down silently.
I stood first, slipping a few bills under the plate. My eyes kept sweeping the surroundings ... the stall owner, the travelers, the empty road bending away into trees. Everything looked normal, which only made it worse.
“Let’s go.”
She hesitated, confused by the sudden urgency, I stepped ahead and held her wrist not harshly but firmly. The distance from the table to the car felt longer than it should have. Every sound ... the gravel under our shoes, the faint wind, the clatter from the kitchen ... stretched too thin.
When we reached the car, I opened the door quickly. “Get in.”
She did. Quiet, watchful now.
As I slid into the driver’s seat, I glanced at the rear-view mirror once ... nothing but the same quiet road behind. Still, my hand tightened on the steering wheel.
“Ray…” she said softly, unsure.
“It’s fine,” I lied, starting the engine. Messaged Laksh about any potential risk or movement.
We drove off. The road swallowed the place behind us, but that feeling ... the weight of unseen eyes ... stayed long after it was gone.
.
The city greeted us with a strange stillness.
The air was heavier here...denser, as though the buildings themselves remembered things best left buried.
We stopped a little away from her flat. The neighborhood was narrow-laned, crowded with the sort of quiet that comes after too many eyes have already watched. I parked near the side, scanning the line of balconies, the corners of rooftops. Nothing visible, but the unease from before had followed us here like a shadow that refused to dissolve.
Sayeera walked a few steps ahead. She took the spare keys from reception and turned toward me. Her voice was almost a whisper when she said, “It’s this one… second floor.”
I nodded, one hand already on my phone.
“Laksh, we’ve reached. Keep the line open.”
Static hummed faintly through the encrypted channel. His voice came low, calm. “Understood. Two units already near the perimeter.”
We went inside. The flat was small...bare walls, muted curtains, a few scattered books on the table. A life half-lived.
While she moved through the rooms, I stood near the doorway, keeping half my attention on the corridor, half on the sound of her movements inside. Drawers opening. The soft scrape of a chair.
“Copy received,” I said into the phone. “Maintain observation. No interference unless I signal.”
Laksh’s reply was short. “Yes, sir.”
I slipped the phone into my pocket, scanning the hallway again. A door creaked somewhere upstairs. A child’s laughter spilled from another flat. Ordinary sounds...but too much ordinary can feel wrong when you expect trouble.
A few minutes later, she came out carrying a small bag and a stack of files pressed to her chest.
Her expression was different now...tight around the edges. She set the files on the table and looked around as if memorizing everything at once.
“This was the first place I rented,” she said quietly, her fingers brushing against the wall. “All my savings… it wasn’t much, but it was mine.”
I didn’t answer. There are moments when words only make things heavier.
She looked down, swallowing hard, then gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. “It’s strange. I thought I’d be happier to leave.”
Outside, a car door slammed somewhere distant. My eyes flicked toward the window...nothing out of place, but the sound crawled under my skin.
“Take what you need,” I said, softer than before. “We shouldn’t stay long.”
She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and went to fetch a few more things. Her movements were hurried now...some instinct in her catching the same unease that had been growing in me.
By the time we stepped out, dusk had started to settle, the air humming faintly with the promise of rain. I carried her bag without a word. She didn’t stop me.
As we reached the car, she looked back once...just once...at the building that had held her small pieces of peace. Then she whispered something under her breath. Maybe goodbye. Maybe nothing at all.
I started the engine, eyes still sweeping the mirrors.
That same sense of being watched hadn’t left. It clung to the edges of the night, patient and waiting.
.
.
The road narrowed into the woods...dense and dark, as though the trees themselves leaned closer to listen. The asphalt shimmered faintly beneath the headlights, a thin gray ribbon swallowed by shadows on both sides.
Sayeera sat quiet beside me, her fingers tracing the edge of the window. For a while, there had been nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional hiss of tires rolling over wet gravel. Then...
The sound came.
A sharp crack split the air, so sudden that the moment fractured cleanly in two. The windshield flared white for a heartbeat before the impact dulled into a muted thud. Bulletproof glass held, spiderwebbing just enough to remind me what would’ve happened otherwise.
“Stay down,” I said...low, controlled, but enough to make her freeze.
Another shot followed, closer this time. Metal sang against the side panel. She gasped, ducking instinctively, clutching the seat edge. I swerved hard to the right, tires grinding against the dirt shoulder as I killed the headlights and let the car coast into the dark.
The world turned to silhouettes...the faint silver outlines of trees, her breathing quick and uneven beside me, the pulse hammering in my throat steady against the chaos.
I pressed the comm button on the dashboard.
“Laksh. We’re under fire.”
Static. Then his voice...tight, composed.
“Location?”
“Sector Seven route. About ten kilometers from the city edge.”
“Copy that. Hold position?”
“Negative,” I said, checking the rear mirror. “They’re tracking us. Somehow.”
A pause. Then, “That shouldn’t be possible, sir. The frequency’s scrambled.”
“Shouldn’t be doesn’t mean isn’t.”
Silence. Then a soft click...he was already moving.
“I’m dispatching the Specter One. Nearest junction point, I’ll send coordinates. ETA, eight minutes.”
The Specter One.
An experimental Codex transport...modified, layered shielding, neural frequency jammer, composite armor. One of our best field units.
Sayeera turned to me, her eyes wide even in the dark.
“Ray...What’s happening?”
“Nothing you need to know.” My voice stayed calm, though I could feel her fear press against the air like a pulse. “Just… stay low. Don’t move unless I say.”
Another round of shots came from behind, sharper now, echoing through the trees. I steered the car off the main path and into the service trail that cut through the woods...a road barely wide enough for two tires. Branches scraped against the sides, whispering against the reinforced glass.
“Team Three, this is Cipher Adric,” I said into the comm. “I want aerial surveillance over Zone Seven now.”
“Already in motion, sir.”
Good. At least something was moving right.
I could feel the pattern of pursuit behind us...fast, organized, two maybe three vehicles. They weren’t random shooters. They knew what they were doing.
“Tracking feed suggests a signal ping from inside your car,” Laksh said over the encrypted channel. “We’re trying to isolate the frequency, but it’s… odd. Not external.”
That pulled at something cold inside me.
“Internal?”
“Could be. Maybe something attached to the car. Maybe...”
He stopped mid-sentence. Then, “They’ve got your last known feed. They’re closing in.”
“Cut it.”
I slammed the car into a sharp left turn, dirt flying up behind us, and the connection dropped. The comms went silent, replaced by the forest’s noise...the hiss of leaves, distant engines growing louder.
Then, through the dark ahead, two faint lights appeared...steady, still. Specter One.
It waited like a ghost at the curve’s edge, matte black, surface glinting faintly under moonlight. No markings, no sound, only a low hum of power beneath its armor plating.
I stopped the car beside it, opened my door, and stepped out.
“Move,” I told her quietly.
Sayeera hesitated for only a heartbeat, then climbed out clutching her bag. I placed a hand on her shoulder, ducking her down along me...steadying her, just long enough for her to understand this isn’t over yet.
The Specter’s rear door slid open soundlessly. Laksh wasn’t here...just one of the field operators who nodded once before disappearing back into the trees to wipe tracks.
Within thirty seconds, we were in the new vehicle.
The doors sealed with a muted hiss. The hum deepened.
Every signal...every trace of connection...went dead.
Inside, the world was unnervingly quiet.
Sayeera’s breathing softened gradually, though her hands still trembled faintly against her lap. I glanced at her, then at the mirrored glass that reflected only the two of us and the night beyond it.
No tracking. No interference. No eyes but ours.
“Stay calm,” I said again, starting the drive. “We’re safe now.”
But even as the forest receded behind us and the hum of Specter One carried us back into the road’s slow rhythm, the silence didn’t feel safe.
It felt… waiting.
.
The drive back to the house felt longer than it should have.
The Specter One moved soundlessly along the dark road, its engine a low hum beneath the tension neither of us dared to speak of. The forest had thinned, but the silence inside the car hadn’t. Every so often, the faint glow from the dashboard would touch her face ... pale, thoughtful, her eyes unfocused, as if still caught somewhere back in the woods.
When the iron gates finally came into view, I felt my shoulders ease only slightly. The floodlights of the estate bathed the courtyard in white, and for a moment, the world felt normal again ...deceptively so.
We stepped out of the car. The night air was cool, sharp. I could still feel the echoes of gunshots ... a reminder of how close the evening had come to unraveling...I never felt this before but today...because she was with me and could have happen anything to her.
Sayeera walked beside me, quiet, clutching her small bag to her chest. She didn’t look afraid now, not exactly ...more like her mind was still running behind her steps.
The security lights flickered as we passed under them, and I caught the soft tremor of her breath, the way her fingers brushed against the edge of her dupatta as if grounding herself.
Inside, the house was still ... too still.
The only sound was the muffled echo of our footsteps against marble and the soft thud of the door closing behind us. I hadn’t realized until that moment how exhausted I was.
I turned slightly to check if she was alright.
That’s when her gaze dropped to my arm.
“Ray ...Your sleeve…” she said quietly.
I glanced down. A thin tear in the fabric, just above my forearm ... a faint, angry scratch where a shard of glass might’ve grazed through. I hadn’t even noticed.
“It’s nothing,” I murmured.
But before I could move, she stepped closer. “Wait.”
Her voice was soft, but firm enough to stop me. She reached for the small cabinet near the hallway ... where I kept first aid, apparently something she’d seen before ... and pulled out a small tube of ointment.
“You don’t need to...”
“Just stay still,” she said, almost under her breath.
She stood close enough now that I could feel the faint warmth radiating from her ... a fragile kind of nearness that I wasn’t used to. Her hair still carried the faint scent of her shampoo, her hands careful as she dabbed the ointment over the scratch.
The cool touch of her fingertips met the warmth of my skin, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to narrow into that one point of contact.
Her movements were slow, deliberate ... too gentle for someone who’d spent the evening staring down fear.
She didn’t look at me while she worked, but her lashes trembled once ... and somehow, that felt louder than anything else.
I should’ve looked away. I didn’t.
The faint burn of antiseptic faded under the steadiness of her touch. She applied the ointment, then finally drew her hand back, murmuring,
“There. It’s fine now.”
Our eyes met. Just a flicker ... brief, unguarded. Something heavy and unspoken lingered there between us.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice lower than I intended.
She nodded once, a small movement, before stepping back. “You should rest.”
I wanted to tell her the same. That she looked just as worn, that her eyes were still shadowed with fear she hadn’t let out yet. But the words caught somewhere between thought and restraint.
So I only nodded, and we parted at the hallway ... her footsteps soft against the marble, mine lingering a little too long before turning away.
And as I walked toward my study, the faint trace of her touch still burned against my skin ... quiet, impossible to ignore.
.
.
The house had gone quiet again.
The lights were dim, the hum of the breeze steady somewhere far behind the walls.
Yet sleep refused to come.
I found myself standing by the window, half-lit by the silver of the moon. The air was still heavy. I didn’t know why my chest felt tight… or why every time I closed my eyes, I saw her ... the way her fingers brushed my arm, the faint tremor in her voice when she said my name.
It shouldn’t matter.
It shouldn’t mean anything.
I whispered it to myself, like repetition could make it true.
“She’s just someone I had to protect.”
The words sounded hollow even as they left my lips.
They didn’t sound right even to me.
There was something about the way she had looked at me earlier ... the hesitation, the worry, the way her hands had trembled when she tied the bandage.
She was scared, but not of me. But for me.
And that ... that unsettled something deep in me I couldn’t name.
Somewhere deep inside, something shifted ... small, quiet, but enough to unsettle me.
Like a heartbeat that suddenly became too loud, reminding me it still existed.
I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to shake it off. “This isn’t the time,” I whispered. “You don’t get to feel anything, Reyaksh.”
I rubbed my temple, exhaling slowly. “What are you doing, Ray…” I murmured under my breath. The name given by her slipped through my lips unintentionally before i can realize.
I didn’t even realize when my hand brushed over the bandage again. It was a habit .. a small, unthinking gesture ...but it made something in my chest tighten.
And though I didn’t understand it ... not yet ...
I didn’t push it away either.
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