!!Story Time!!
Radhika P.O.V
The little café Justin chose was tucked behind an old bookstore—quiet, hidden, candle-lit. The kind of place where the world slowed down just enough for love to breathe without interruption. He had picked a table outside under a canopy of string lights, their golden glow flickering against his hair as he smiled at me across the table.
"I know this isn't Paris," he said, pouring water into my glass, "but it's got the best garlic bread this side of the city. Trust me."
I smiled. "After everything, garlic bread might be exactly what my soul needs."
He chuckled, and for a while, we were just *us* again—no past, no family tension, no shadows. Just conversations, stolen glances, and laughter between bites.
But then…
Something shifted.
A sudden gust of wind.
A flicker of motion across the street.
And Justin's laughter died mid-breath. His body stiffened.
"What is it?" I asked, but he didn't answer.
He stood, fast, too fast. "Stay here," he said sharply.
"Justin—"
Before I could finish, two men stepped out from the alley, their faces half-covered, moving like shadows cut from stone. I stood up too, heart clenching, but Justin turned toward me with fire in his eyes.
"*Run, Radhika.*"
And then chaos.
One of them lunged, and Justin blocked the blow—fist to fist, bone to bone. He moved with brutal precision, trained and sharp, but they were more than two now. A third came from behind. I screamed his name.
He fought like hell.
He struck hard, elbowed one to the ground, kicked another across the ribs. But it wasn't enough.
One of them pulled a pipe from under his coat.
"JUSTIN!" I cried.
The metal hit his side with a sickening crack. He stumbled, dropped to his knees—blood at the corner of his lip, his eyes wild but fading.
"RADHI—"
They grabbed him.
And in seconds, he was thrown into a black van. Screeching tires. Gone.
I was frozen. Breathless. Useless.
For one heart-shattering moment.
Then I ran.
---
It had been ten minutes. Or ten years—I couldn't tell.
I was barefoot, breath ragged, dialing numbers that didn't connect, eyes darting like a cornered animal.
Then I stopped.
Focused.
*Think, Radhika. THINK.*
Who would do this? Who still held a grudge strong enough to come after him like this? My brother's enemies? Or Justin's past?
No.
This wasn't random.
It was *planned.*
I rushed back to my car. Started it with trembling hands. My phone buzzed—a message.
A number I didn't recognize.
**"You wanted to protect him. You should've told him to stay out of the war."**
Attached: A blurry image of Justin, bruised, bound to a chair in some dark, grimy warehouse.
I felt my blood ignite.
No more silence. No more waiting.
I texted only two people—my brother… and myself.
Then I drove.
Into the night.
Into the storm.
---
I didn't know what to do.
I was driving in the direction I had seen Justin's car being taken, but now I was stuck. The road ahead split into three different paths, each stretching into uncertainty, and I had no idea which one to follow.
My heart was racing. I brought my car to a screeching halt in the middle of the road, frustration and panic surging in my chest. Who were those people? Where had they taken him? I didn't have answers—only questions that stabbed deeper with each passing second.
I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling, and began typing a message to Bhaiya for help. But then… I stopped.
We had just begun to rebuild things. Barely recovered from the last storm. If he found out something had happened again—especially something that nearly put my life in danger—he'd lose his mind. No, worse… he'd blame himself. He'd scream, get angry, maybe even make me promise to never see Justin again.
I couldn't let that happen.
I deleted the message and looked up, scanning the street. That's when I noticed the red light ahead—and the rows of CCTV cameras perched above it. Hope flickered.
I quickly dialed Dev. If anyone would help me without question, it was him.
Then Sahil. His contacts, his instincts—he'd act fast.
Then Kartik. Kartik could get into the traffic camera feeds, track the vehicle, pull angles, anything.
I couldn't explain everything over the phone. It was too much, too dangerous, and I didn't want to risk panicking them. So I told each of them one thing:
**"Meet me. It's urgent. I'll explain in person."**
And then, I drove—fast and relentless, my heart held hostage, my thoughts haunted by the image of Justin being pulled away.
---
The room smelled faintly of rain-drenched concrete and coffee long gone cold.
We had taken refuge in an old storehouse near the industrial edge of the city—abandoned, quiet, and invisible. A single dim bulb swung overhead, casting restless shadows over the tense faces gathered beneath it.
Sahil was leaning over a map, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Kartik sat in front of an open laptop, fingers flying across the keys, lines of code reflecting in his glasses. Gulab Shah stood by the boarded window, arms crossed, eyes alert. Ishika and Akanksha were beside me—silent but solid as stone. And then there was the plainclothes officer—Sub-Inspector Randhawa—quietly observing the room with the watchfulness of someone who'd seen too much and trusted too little.
"Three minutes ago, this van," Kartik said, pointing at a grainy still frame on his screen, "turned off Highway 42 onto Sector Nine. It hasn't shown up on any other cameras since."
"That area's a maze of old textile warehouses," Dev added, entering through the side door with a loaded look in his eyes. "No one goes there unless they want to stay invisible."
I swallowed hard. *Justin was in that van.*
Sahil looked up at me. "This isn't random. Someone planned it. Someone who knows how to erase tracks."
"And someone who knows us," Gulab Shah added, voice low. "They timed it for when Justin stepped away from Radhika. When she was alone. That's not a coincidence. That's strategy."
I nodded, my jaw tightening. "It wasn't a robbery. No threats. No ransom. They didn't want money."
"They wanted him gone," Ishika murmured, her eyes flashing. "Which means this is personal."
Sub-Inspector Randhawa finally spoke. "This city has had a handful of groups capable of pulling this off—ex-military syndicates, corporate security mercs, maybe even a few hired ghosts. But there's a name that keeps circling back in our records." He slid a file across the table. "Rikash Thakur."
A chill traced my spine.
"That bastard?" Sahil muttered. "I thought he vanished after the Singhvi scandal."
"He's resurfaced," Randhawa said. "Whispers say he's working privately now—revenge contracts, betrayal cleanups, political hush jobs."
"But what does he want with Justin?" Akanksha asked. "Justin's been… quiet. Under the radar."
That was the question burning in all our minds. But deep inside, I knew—Justin's past hadn't let go. It had found him. Again.
And now it was my turn to fight back.
"We're not going in blind," I said, my voice steady. "Kartik—get us satellite feed of that sector. Randhawa—assemble a small, quiet response unit. Dev, Sahil—gear up. We go in one hour. We move like ghosts. And we bring Justin home."
I turned to the others. "No mistakes. No fear. If they think they can take him away from me, from us, they've severely underestimated what we're capable of."
Gulab Shah gave a slow, approving smile. "You sound like your brother when you talk like that."
I met his gaze. "Good. Because I'm done waiting to be rescued."
---
Absolutely! Here's the **rescue mission scene** from **Justin's point of view**, written in **advanced English novel style** — emotional, intense, and cinematic:
---
### **Scene: Shadows of the Rescue**
*Justin's Point of View*
I didn't know how long I had been here.
Time had blurred—dripping like water through cracked hands. They'd taken my watch, my phone, even my name. Left me tied to a metal chair in a damp warehouse that smelled of oil and forgotten blood. The only constant was the hum of old machinery and the pain ringing through my ribs.
They didn't ask questions.
They already knew the answers.
This wasn't about information. This was a message.
Rikash Thakur.
I recognized his voice before I saw his face. The way he spoke, like violence in a tailored suit. I should've known he wouldn't stay buried forever.
"You took something that didn't belong to you," he had said earlier, circling me like a vulture with patience. "And now, I'm going to take everything from you… starting with her."
*Her.*
Radhika.
That single thought burned hotter than any of their blows.
She didn't know. She couldn't know.
If she got involved—if they touched her—
No. I wouldn't let that happen. I'd die first.
But then…
The world exploded.
A deafening crack tore through the silence, followed by the unmistakable sound of boots hitting the floor, sharp commands, and glass shattering. Red light from the alarm began to spin wildly across the ceiling.
I looked up—half-conscious, heart hammering.
And then, through the smoke and shadows…
*She walked in.*
Radhika.
Dressed in black, eyes sharper than blades, shoulders pulled back like a soldier trained for war. She moved like she wasn't afraid to burn this place to the ground if it meant finding me. Behind her—Sahil, Dev, Kartik, Ishika, and two unfamiliar tactical officers swept through the warehouse with perfect coordination.
Thakur's men tried to push back, but they weren't ready for this.
Radhika moved faster than I'd ever seen. She ducked behind a beam, disarmed a guard with a brutal twist of her elbow, then cracked his knee with a swift kick. One of Thakur's men lunged for her—only to get slammed to the ground by Sahil, who growled something I couldn't hear.
Through the chaos, she reached me.
"Justin," she breathed, kneeling beside me, her fingers already working on the zip-tie around my wrist. "I've got you. I've got you."
I should've said something. Anything. But I couldn't look away from her face.
Tears threatened to sting my eyes, but I swallowed them down.
"You came…" I whispered.
Her lips curled into a breathless smile. "You thought I wouldn't?"
She pulled me into her arms the moment the last tie snapped free.
"You're bleeding," she said, cradling my face.
"I'm alive," I murmured. "Only because of you."
Behind us, Thakur was shouting. A shot rang out, someone yelled for backup, and I turned my head just in time to see Ishika land a punch so hard it sent one of them straight into a metal rack.
"We need to move—now!" Dev called.
Sahil and Kartik were already clearing the way toward the van.
Radhika helped me up—her arm around my waist, my strength borrowed from her—and for the first time in hours, I knew I wasn't alone.
She hadn't just come for me.
She *fought* for me.
And no matter what came next—whatever ghosts haunted our past—this woman, this warrior, was my future.
---
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Thank you.....