Page 142

But what shocks me the most is...I know that face.

At first, I’m confused about how this is possible. And then recognition strikes, followed by a darkness I can’t control. A dangerous heat builds in my chest as rage courses through my veins. My fingers tighten around the phone as memories flood my mind, the missing pieces of a puzzle I should have solved long ago finally snapping into place.

“F*ck,” I spit out, putting the final pieces together.

Ayaan, still engrossed in the list on his laptop, snaps his head toward me. “What? Found something?”

I nod, trying to organise the chaos in my mind. My throat feels dry as I force out the words.

“He’snotafter Simran.”

“What do you mean?” Ayaan’s brow furrows in confusion. “Wait, are you saying the masked man’s target isn’t Simran?”

I clench my jaw so hard it hurts.

“No. He’s… he’s after me,” I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“What?” Ayaan’s shock is obvious, his eyes widening in disbelief.

I turn to meet his gaze, and I can see him flinch ever so slightly at whatever he sees in my eyes.

“Simran was just bait,” I explain, my words dripping with cold fury. “He wants revenge against the Walias... Revenge against ME.”

“I don’t understand,” Ayaan shakes his head as he leans forward. “What are you saying? Who is he?”

As I prepare to answer, memories from the past begin to resurface—dark, haunting memories that I’d buried almost six years ago in the deepest corners of my mind. My hands ball into fists as I begin to speak, ready to unravel a story that’s been years in the making.

Six Years Ago…

I was at a public event with Dad, who had recently been sworn in as the Deputy Chief Minister of the state. It was his first big speech since taking office—a celebration of his victory and a platform to outline his vision for the future of the state. The venue was bustling with energy as thousands of supporters gathered to hear him speak. Their chants of his name echoed through the open grounds, accompanied by a sea of waving banners and flags.

I stood by his side on the stage, scanning the sea of faces, my senses on high alert. As his personal bodyguard, my job was simple in theory: keep him safe at all costs. But in reality, it was a constant battle against the unknown, against threats that could strike from anywhere, anytime.

And then, it happened.

The sharp crack of a gunshot split the air. The bullet whizzed past Dad, narrowly missing him, hitting the wall behind him instead. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. The crowd stood paralysed, silence gripping them before panic erupted. Dad’s face, which was full of determination just moments before, was now frozen in shock. His eyes widened as he stumbled back, his hand instinctively reaching out for me.

“Sir, down!” one of the guards shouted, moving to shield him.

The first bullet had missed, slamming into the wall behind us with a dull thud. Dad’s guards sprang into action, forming a protective circle around him. But I knew this wasn’t over. Something inside me screamed for action, a gut instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

I turned sharply, scanning the surroundings—my instincts were right. There he was, the sniper. High up in an adjacent building, a shadow against the afternoon sun. The glint of his scope caught my eye, and my heart thundered in my chest.

“Sniper! Two o’clock!” I yelled, my voice cutting through the chaos. Dad’s guards started moving him, but the sniper was faster. I saw it—the subtle shift in his aim, the chilling stillness that came before the next shot.

The second bullet was coming.

It was instinct. Pure, primal instinct. Without thinking, I lunged forward, shoving him out of the bullet’s path. My shoulder crashed into him, sending him into the arms of his guards. In that split second, I become a shield between the bullet and my father.

Pain exploded in my chest as the bullet tore through me. It hit me square in the chest, a white-hot explosion that stole the breath from my lungs. It felt like my entire world had tilted, the ground beneath me swaying as I staggered, my balance slipping away.

Just then, the sound of my father’s voice calling my name rings in my ears like an echo from far away.

“No!” Dad shouted, his voice breaking with fear. “No! Vishnu! No!”

I turned my head, fighting the darkness creeping into my vision. My legs buckled, and I dropped to my knees. But even as I fell, I didn’t take my eyes off him. I had to know he was safe.

Through the chaos, I saw his guards swiftly escorting him off the stage, their bodies a protective wall around him. Relief flooded through me. He was safe. That was all that mattered.