Page 53 of Born in Sin (Phoenix #3)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

VIRAT

Worry gnawed at him as he checked his phone for the umpteenth time. There was no news from Cara. He monitored Majid’s calls and messages with obsessive frequency and watched as the other man paced on his screen.

His phone pinged and he pulled it out, hoping it was Cara. It was not. The group chat he shared with his friends lit up with messages. He tapped it open.

Ishaan: Yukhi has a theory.

Amay: Oh! If Yukhi has a theory, it must be the best one in the whole world, right, Vir?

Virat grinned reluctantly. He knew what his friends were doing. They were trying to distract him from the swirling vortex of doom that was his thoughts. He felt duty bound to play along.

Virat: Of course not. It would be the best one in the whole universe.

Ishaan: Fuckers. Do you want to hear it or not?

Amay: Do we have a choice?

Ishaan: Fine. I’m going. Now you’ll never know.

Virat: I just checked with Yukhi. She thinks Mohan and Celina’s mom might have been in on the DD’s grove scheme back at school. She also wonders if Mohan was their procurer. The one he was meeting off school grounds, through the gate.

Amay: So if Ishaan goes, it really doesn’t matter, does it? We’ll know anyway.

Ishaan: Oh go cut someone open, Dr. Dickhead.

Virat was still smiling to himself when Shourya gestured for his attention. He walked over to where he was standing, scanning the papers Shourya had enlarged on his screen. Mohan Swamy’s bank statements didn’t show any unusual deposits or withdrawals.

Since leaving Crestwood, he’d been taking private tuitions to make ends meet and seemed to have turned it into a fruitful business.

He lived, quietly and comfortably, in his two-bedroom apartment.

One room had been let out to a young IT professional and Mohan lived in the other.

If Cara’s mother had been visiting him, she had certainly left no record of it.

Same went for the DD’s. There was no trail linking him to anyone from Crestwood after he left in disgrace.

Until today, with his address popping up as the next site for the rendezvous on Saturday.

“Do a run on the tenant,” he told Shourya, even as his mind mulled over a million possibilities. “Let me know what you find out.”

One of his techs stepped up to ask a question on another client’s case and the next hour flew by in untangling that wrangle.

Virat’s phone beeped again. It still wasn’t Celina. His worry mounted, knowing that Celina’s mother was always a flashpoint with her. The fact that they still lived together told him that she still hadn’t given up hope of a semblance of a decent relationship between them.

Through the rest of that evening, Virat waited, hoping she’d message or call him, but she didn’t. In the end, he caved and sent her a message.

Talk to me. Please.

Hours passed but there was still no response. He was about to leave when he saw the screen flashing Majid’s messages light up with a new one. He wasn’t messaging Cara’s burner. He was messaging Kabir.

Virat walked up to the screen and read the message again.

This Saturday, welcome to an experience like no other. As a new member, you will need to be initiated and offer tribute. Await further instructions.

A chill ran down Virat’s spine as his gaze switched between the screen with the messages and the one with Majid, sitting on his couch, on it. As he watched, Majid tossed his phone aside, buried his head in his hands and started crying.

Why was he crying? Why did sending Kabir this message cause him that much distress?

Clearly it was some kind of rite of passage and not something he’d done for the first time.

So, what was different now? Or was his reconnection with Celina jogging his dead conscience?

But hadn’t he set fire to that same conscience all those years ago, on that night?

A foreboding of ominous proportions settled in his gut. There was a storm coming. Again. This time he couldn’t afford to be unprepared.

“Shourya,” he called out and the boy appeared beside him like a genie popping out of his lamp.

“Sir.”

“Trawl all of Majid’s messages and emails for the word ‘tribute’.”

“Yes Sir.”

He disappeared, heading back to the computer.

“Send me everything you find, the minute you find it,” he called out. “I’m heading out now. I have something to do.”

He left from the back entrance, the one that led to the little alley between buildings and was hidden from the main road.

It was what they’d all used to enter and leave the building.

He didn’t think the DD’s would know of this place, and his team had monitored everyone’s staggered arrival to ensure they weren’t followed but why take a chance.

So close to what looked like the final confrontation, the last thing they needed was a slip up that threw it all away.

He'd just gotten into the car when a call from the burner he’d given Kabir came through. “I’m thinking tonight’s a great night for a fancy dinner. Would you be able to join us?”

The worry that had been thrumming in his gut turned into a raging hurricane. “Send me details and then lose the phone,” he said brusquely before disconnecting.

He waited only long enough for the address to come through before throwing his car into gear and peeling out of there.

Whatever had gone down at Cara’s place had obviously not ended well. Not if she felt the need to leave home for the night. He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew that he had to be there.

For once in his miserable life, he needed to be there for her when she needed him. Not before, not after…but right in the moment.