ℙℝOLOGUE : THE DANGEROUS FIRST MEET

...❤️🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌- 🇦‌🇺‌🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌❤️...

The air smelled of rain and rusted metal.

Vardhanapuram’s streets, slick with the remnants of an evening downpour, glowed under flickering streetlights. The monsoon had come early this year, bringing with it the scent of damp earth and the quiet whispers of secrets lurking in the shadows. Somewhere in the distance, the haunting melody of a flute drifted through the air, blending seamlessly with the hum of the restless city.

Sathya tightened her jacket as she stepped out of her bookstore, The Lost Verse, onto the empty pavement. It wasn’t just a bookstore—it was her sanctuary, her carefully built facade of normalcy. During the day, she sold forgotten poetry and rare manuscripts to university students and old souls seeking solace in words. But by night, she was something else.

A seeker. A hunter.

Tonight was no different.

She glanced at the crumpled paper in her hand. A name. A location. A whisper passed through the city's underground network. Govind Raj, a government contractor with a taste for dirty money, was about to die.

And Sathya needed to know why.

The alley behind Kaveri Sweets was dark, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of a neon sign above the shop’s entrance. The scent of deep-fried jalebis mixed strangely with the putrid stench of garbage.

Sathya pressed herself against the cold brick wall, steadying her breath. The tip she had received wasn’t specific—only that Govind Raj would meet someone here tonight. Someone important. Someone dangerous.

A sleek black car pulled into the alley, its headlights cutting through the gloom. Two men stepped out first—bodyguards, judging by the way their hands hovered near their concealed weapons. Then came Govind Raj himself, a stout man in his fifties, his balding head glistening with sweat despite the night’s chill.

And then, another figure emerged from the shadows.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in black. His presence was commanding, effortless. Sathya couldn’t see his face clearly, but she felt the shift in the air around him. A man accustomed to power.

The conversation was brief.

A suitcase exchanged hands. A muttered warning.

And then—

The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the night.

Govind Raj’s body jerked violently before crumpling onto the wet ground, blood pooling beneath him.

Sathya’s breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t just an exchange. It was an execution.

The shooter turned slightly, stepping into the dim light. And that was when Sathya saw him.

Her stomach twisted.

Aryan Varma.

The golden prince of Vardhanapuram. The heir to the Varma political dynasty.

A man who shouldn’t have been here. A man who shouldn’t have just killed someone in cold blood.

And he saw her.

Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second—enough for realization to dawn on both of them.

Then, he moved.

Sathya turned on her heel and ran.

She knew these streets better than anyone. The narrow gullies, the sudden drop-offs near the riverbanks, the hidden doors leading to forgotten tunnels. But Aryan was fast, too fast. His footsteps echoed behind her, steady, unrelenting.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she turned sharply into another alley—only to find a dead end.

Damn it.

She whirled around, ready to fight, but Aryan was already there, his hand gripping her wrist before she could strike.

“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice low, dangerous.

Sathya met his gaze, her breath still unsteady. “Let me go.”

He didn’t. Instead, his fingers tightened, not in aggression, but in calculation. He was studying her, searching for recognition.

And that’s when she saw it—the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

He didn’t know who she was.

Good.

Sathya twisted sharply, breaking free from his grip, and with a quick movement, she drove her knee into his side. He grunted but didn’t fall. Instead, he smirked.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” he murmured, stepping closer.

Neither was I, she thought.

Before he could grab her again, she turned and sprinted down the alley, vanishing into the maze of Vardhanapuram.

Back at The Lost Verse, Sathya locked the door behind her, pressing her back against the wooden frame. Her hands were shaking, but her mind was already working.

Aryan Varma just murdered someone in cold blood. But why? Was he following orders? Was he covering up a deeper conspiracy? Or was he something worse?

She moved to her desk, opening the old wooden drawer where she kept her secrets. Pulling out a faded photograph, she traced her fingers over the edges.

A child. A woman. A man standing behind them, his face blurred with time.

The only fragment of a past she couldn’t remember.

And beneath the photograph, engraved into the paper like a ghost—

The mark of "The Serpent."

Sathya exhaled slowly.

This was no coincidence.

Vardhanapuram was a city of tangled fates. And now, hers was caught in its crimson threads.

...❤️‍🔥To be continued......

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