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Chapter 71: The Names That Still BreatheRiya’s POVThe folder felt heavier than damp paper had any right to. Edges curled against my palm like it wanted to crawl back into the dark Meera had vanished into. Aryan still stood where her shadow used to be, Glock half-raised, rain still dripping from the ends of his hair, eyes fixed on empty air like the ghost had left a mark only he could see.I flipped the first page open with my good hand and ignored the way the warehouse kept trying to tilt. Fresh blood had already soaked the latest pad and was tracking a slow, sticky line down my hip into the mattress. Fuck it. The list wasn’t going to wait for me to stop leaking.Thirteen entries. Thirteen faces printed in grainy black-and-white like someone had photographed them through dirty glass. Aryan’s name sat at the top in Vikram’s old handwriting, the word *Heir* underlined hard enough to score the paper. Second entry: the decoy, marked deceased in thick red ink. Then the remaining eleven.
Chapter 70: The Ghost Who Should Have Stayed BuriedRiya’s POVThe name still hung in the air like gun smoke that refused to clear.Meera.I watched Aryan’s body lock in a way that had nothing to do with the bruised ribs or the rain still dripping off his black shirt. This was older. Deeper. The kind of stillness that said something he had buried under years of blood and black shirts had just walked back into the room carrying every scar he thought he’d already killed.She stood in the dim warehouse light like the shadows had always belonged to her. Mid-thirties, maybe a little older. Short rain-dark hair. Utility black that didn’t try to be anything except functional. No weapon visible. Hands empty and held slightly away from her body the same way Naina’s and Kavya’s had been. Same training. Same cold bastard who had taught all of them how to walk into a room full of guns and still look like they owned the concrete.Ananya’s rifle never left her center mass. “Identify again. Slowly. A
Chapter 69: The Ones Who Taught Him How to BleedRiya’s POVThe second phone kept ringing like it had all the fucking time in the world.I didn’t move. Neither did Aryan. His hands were still pressed against the pad on my side, fingers sticky with my blood, jaw locked so tight I could hear his teeth grind. The bruise along his ribs looked almost purple under the wet black fabric. Every shallow breath he took made something pull wrong under the skin. He felt it. I saw it. He just refused to give it room.Ananya’s voice cut through the rain from the doorway, low and flat. “Still alone out there. No second vehicle. No movement from the east lot. Whatever the fuck that message meant, they’re not announcing themselves yet.”“Keep the sweeps,” Aryan said without looking up. His voice had that dead quality again, the one that meant every soft thing inside him had been locked behind steel. “Anything bigger than a rat, put it down before it gets close enough to breathe on us.”She melted back i
Chapter 68: The Names That Still Breathe**Riya’s POV**The phone kept ringing.Not loud. Not frantic. Just steady and patient, the way a blade is patient when it already knows the softest place to cut. One long tone after another against the scarred wood of the table while rain tried to erase the tire tracks outside and the three bodies on the concrete kept cooling like they had nowhere better to be.Aryan’s hands were still on me. One pressing the fresh pad hard against the wound in my side, the other tearing tape with his teeth. His mouth was a hard line. The bruise along his ribs looked almost black under the wet black fabric. Every time he reached, I saw the careful way he moved—like the ribs were reminding him they still belonged to someone who had been hit hard and recently.I didn’t reach for the phone.Neither did he.Ananya’s voice came low from the doorway, rifle still up, eyes still cutting the dark. “She’s gone. Single vehicle. No tail I can see. Rain’s thick enough to hid
Chapter 67: The Dead Don’t Knock Twice**Riya’s POV**The third set of tires didn’t announce itself with the same soft, wet thump as the first two. It was quieter. More careful. Like the driver already knew the ground was soft with rain and blood and didn’t want to wake whatever still slept under it.Aryan’s hand left mine the second the sound reached us. He was already moving, already angling his body between me and the open side door, Glock low and ready. Ananya had frozen halfway across the room, rifle half-raised, eyes cutting toward the entrance.I stayed where I was. Sitting on the edge of the mattress with the fresh pad pressed hard against my side, the med kit open beside me, the taste of Aryan’s blood still ghosting the inside of my mouth from where I’d bitten him. The wound had opinions. I told it to shut the fuck up and keep the rest of the blood inside where it belonged.Outside, the engine cut.One door opened.One.Not six. Not four. One.Aryan’s shoulders didn’t relax. I
Chapter 66: The Ghost’s Bloody Fucking Teeth Just Bit the Wrong Pair of Bastards**Riya’s POV**The tires stopped like a held breath.Not a squeal. Not a dramatic slam. Just that soft, wet *thump-thump* of rubber kissing concrete that had already given up fighting the rain. Two vehicles. Lights off. East approach. Exactly where Ananya said they would be.Aryan’s body went from warm to weapon in the space between one heartbeat and the next. His hand left the bandage like it had never been gentle. One second he was still half-hard against my thigh, the next he was already rolling, already reaching, already becoming the thing the old network used to whisper about when the lights went out.I sat up slower. The fresh tape pulled. The wound protested. I told it to shut the fuck up and keep the blood inside where it belonged.Ananya’s voice crackled again, lower, tighter. “Two SUVs. Blacked out. No plates I can read from here. Four doors opening. Six bodies. Moving like they’ve done this befo







