Chapter 3: The Trap

Aarohi’s pulse pounded against her ribs as she read the message again.

"Get out. Now. It’s a setup."

Her fingers tightened around her phone. Every instinct screamed run. But there was one problem—Rudra Rathore was watching her.

His dark eyes flickered with amusement, but underneath that, something more dangerous—control.

He knew.

She forced herself to stay calm, slipping her phone back into her coat. Don’t react. Don’t show fear. She had faced criminals before, but this was different. Rudra wasn’t just another mafia boss.

He was the kind of predator who let his prey believe they had a chance before striking.

And right now, she was standing in his den.

"Something wrong, detective?" Rudra asked, his deep voice smooth, unshaken.

Aarohi forced a smirk. "Why would there be?"

His lips curled at her defiance, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he signaled to the bartender. "Another drink for the detective. She might need it."

Aarohi’s heart raced. What did he mean by that?

She had to get out. Now.

She glanced around the club, subtly scanning for threats. Who else was involved? The bouncers? The bartender? The guests? Anyone could be on Rudra’s payroll.

And then—she saw them.

Two men near the entrance. Unmistakably cops. But they weren’t from her team. Their stance was wrong, their expressions too neutral. They weren’t here to help her.

Shit.

This wasn’t just Rudra’s trap. Someone in the force had betrayed her.

---

A GAME OF CONTROL

She looked back at Rudra, who leaned against the bar, watching her like a king amused by his newest entertainment.

He was enjoying this.

Aarohi took a slow breath. Think. Stay ahead. If she panicked, she’d lose. She had to play along.

With an easy smile, she picked up the glass the bartender placed before her. "You seem very interested in my well-being, Mr. Rathore."

Rudra chuckled, swirling his whiskey. "Of course. A good host always makes sure his guest is… comfortable."

His voice dipped on that last word, sending a chill down her spine.

"You’re not my host," she said smoothly. "I came here on my own."

"Did you?" He tilted his head, his gaze sharp. "Are you sure this wasn’t exactly where you were meant to be?"

Aarohi’s breath hitched. Was he implying he planned this all along?

Did he know she’d come tonight? Had he let her get close just to show her how powerless she really was?

The thought sent rage boiling through her veins, but she swallowed it down. Not here. Not now.

Instead, she smirked, taking a slow sip of the whiskey. Two can play this game, Rudra.

"If this is a trap, you should have done better," she said casually. "I expected more from Mumbai’s so-called devil."

Rudra exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Bold words for someone sitting in the middle of my world with no backup."

Aarohi leaned in, just enough for her words to be meant only for him. "You think you own this city, but even the devil has limits. And one day, I will find yours."

For the first time, something dark flickered in his eyes. A warning.

He leaned in too, voice low and smooth as silk. "You already found it, detective."

Aarohi’s breath caught for just a second.

Before she could respond, Rudra leaned back and snapped his fingers.

The music stopped.

The conversations died.

All eyes in the club turned toward them.

Aarohi’s fingers curled into fists. What the hell was happening?

Then—a scream.

---

THE TRAP SPRINGS

The scream came from the other side of the club. A woman stumbled forward, blood seeping from a deep cut on her arm. People gasped, moving back in fear.

In the chaos, Aarohi saw a masked man slipping through the crowd, holding a knife.

Her instincts took over. Move.

She pushed away from the bar, reaching for the gun strapped to her waist—

Only to feel a firm grip close around her wrist.

Rudra.

His hold was unyielding, but not painful. His voice was a whisper in her ear.

"Don’t draw your weapon here, detective. You might not walk out alive."

Aarohi’s pulse slammed against her ribs.

She wrenched her wrist free and spun to face him. "Let me do my job, or get out of my way."

Rudra’s expression remained unreadable. But then—he stepped aside.

Permission? Or another test?

Aarohi didn’t have time to think. She charged forward, shoving through the panicked crowd. The masked man reached the back exit, slipping into the alleyway.

Aarohi ran.

She burst through the door, gun raised—

Only to find nothing.

The alley was empty.

She took a slow step forward, scanning the shadows. Where did he go?

A gust of wind rushed past her. A whisper of movement.

Too late—

A sharp pain exploded in her skull.

The world spun.

Her knees hit the ground.

Darkness closed in.

The last thing she heard was the faint, haunting sound of Rudra Rathore’s voice.