Episode -------43
Rain fell in silver sheets, blurring streetlights into trembling halos.
The three ran through half‑flooded alleys: Aria clutching the ledger to her chest, Lina glancing back at every footstep, Ayan moving ahead with bruised determination, knife slick with rainwater.
Kolkata had never looked so cold.
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They ducked under a rusted overpass, breath steaming in the midnight air.
Lina gasped, voice shaking: "How long before they find us again?"
Ayan's jaw clenched, pain flickering behind his storm‑grey eyes. "Minutes. Hours if we're lucky."
Aria's heart hammered against the ledgers pressed to her ribs. "Then where do we go?"
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A distant siren cut through rain and fog.
Ayan's gaze stayed fixed ahead. "To someone who hates Malik more than he hates us."
Aria swallowed. "And who might that be?"
"An old friend," Ayan rasped. "Or an older enemy. Depends how you see it."
---
Far across the city, behind cold iron bars:
Night settled heavy on Raian's shoulders.
His bruised knuckles rested against the stone, chains biting deeper with every breath.
The old man in the corner watched him, eyes sharp under the flickering bulb.
"You don't sleep," the man rasped.
Raian's voice cracked. "Sleep brings ghosts."
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"Then what keeps you standing, boy?" the old man murmured.
Raian's chest tightened. A doctor's voice. A promise I don't deserve.
"I don't know," he breathed, truth heavier than chains.
---
Thunder rolled.
The old man leaned forward, chains rattling. "Tell me, son of the Khan: do you want to live?"
Raian's gaze lifted, raw and unguarded. "More than anything," he rasped. "But not as the man I was."
---
The old man's laugh was dry as dust. "Then crawl through the dark. Even monsters can bleed hope, boy."
Raian lowered his head, sweat dripping from his brow.
Aria. Don't give up on me yet.
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Back in the city:
They reached an iron gate half‑hidden by broken signage: "Vishram Cold Storage."
Ayan knocked three times — then twice more, knuckles sharp against rusted steel.
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The door creaked open.
A heavy‑set man appeared, eyes bloodshot, stubble flecked with grey. Scars cut across his knuckles.
"Ayan," he drawled, voice dry as dust. "Didn't expect to see your cursed face tonight."
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Ayan's jaw tightened. "Hello, Bashir."
Bashir's gaze flicked to Aria, then Lina, then the ledger clutched in trembling hands.
"You bring me trouble, boy."
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"We need a place to breathe," Ayan rasped. "One night."
"And why should I risk Malik's knives?" Bashir asked, leaning against the door.
"Because you still hate him more than you hate me," Ayan shot back.
---
For a breath, only rain spoke.
Then Bashir stepped aside. "Inside. Quick."
---
They slipped into cold darkness.
Rows of silent freezers hummed in the dark; frost traced spider‑web cracks across metal doors.
Bashir led them to a back room stacked with burlap sacks and broken crates.
"Sit. And speak," he growled.
---
Ayan exhaled, pain written in every line of his face. "Rajveer's dead. Raian's in jail. Malik's hunting us to bury the truth."
Aria unwrapped the ledger, pages damp but legible. "This proves Raian killed Rajveer to stop him. Not for power. To protect us."
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Bashir's gaze sharpened. "And you want me to help free the butcher of Howrah Docks?"
Aria flinched. "He's more than that," she whispered.
"And you're either braver or dumber than you look," Bashir muttered.
---
Silence stretched.
The hum of old freezers. Rain pattering on rusted tin.
Finally, Bashir leaned back. "Keep the ledger dry. Dawn brings news. Till then — hide, and pray Malik's dogs can't smell you here."
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Outside, the rain turned colder.
Lina pressed her back to the freezer, arms wrapped tight around herself. "Do you trust him?" she whispered to Ayan.
"I trust that he hates Malik," Ayan murmured. "It'll have to be enough."
---
Aria sat apart, ledger in her lap, head bowed.
For the first time in days, exhaustion forced her eyes to close — only for visions to bloom behind the dark:
Raian, chains at his wrists, shadows crowding his eyes.
His voice, rough and raw: "Don't give up on me."
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Her breath caught.
I won't, she whispered into the cold.
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Back in the cell:
Raian's heartbeat slowed, thoughts crawling through guilt and shadow.
Faces he'd killed flickered behind his eyes.
Yet through them all, one voice cut clearer than regret:
"You're worth saving."
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Something inside him — fragile, half‑dead — refused to die.
He clenched bruised fists around that ember of hope, even as cold sweat traced old scars.
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In the storage room:
Ayan sank beside Aria. His hand hovered above hers — then rested lightly.
"We'll get him out," he murmured.
Aria turned, tear‑filled eyes meeting storm‑grey. "How?"
Ayan's voice stayed low, tired, but unbroken: "With truth. Or with fire, if we must."
---
Lina curled beside them, exhaustion stealing strength from fear.
In the hum of old machinery, they pressed together — a fragile circle against the dark.
---
Outside, rain softened.
But thunder still whispered on the horizon — a promise the storm had only just begun.
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Teaser for Episode 44:
Bashir delivers news that shatters hope: Malik has bribed the judge. Aria faces a choice — run and survive, or fight and risk everything. In the prison, Raian is dragged to a meeting he can't refuse… with Malik himself.