Mira stood in the center of the living room, her gaze sweeping over the four unconscious figures sprawled like discarded puppets.
The apartment had fallen into an unnatural hush, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant honk of Mumbai traffic filtering through the cracked window.
Sterling and Rajesh slumped in their chairs, their heads lolled back, their chests rising and falling in shallow, drugged rhythms. The tea had done its job swiftly, herbal, yes, but laced with a potent sedative from her private stock, mostly used for "emergencies" but would get the job done immediately and effectively. They would be out for hours, long enough for her to finish what she'd started.
