The clock tower in Meerut struck midnight. The deep sound echoed through the deserted, rain-soaked alleys, mixing with the heavy rhythm of the monsoon. Inspector Aryan sat in his old police jeep, wiping the fog off the windshield. His eyes were tired, but his mind was racing. For the past three nights, the city had been gripped by a cold terror. A figure—seven feet tall, draped in a tattered black trench coat—was moving through the darkness like a ghost.
"Sir, we found another one," Sharma's voice crackled over the radio, trembling. "It's near the old market. It... it's the same pattern."
Aryan sped towards the location. In the middle of the road lay the body of a local politician. No weapon, no struggle. Just a cold corpse. And pinned to the victim's chest was a single, rusted brass button.
"The jail fire," Aryan whispered, his blood running cold. Twenty years ago, Rudrapur Jail had burned to the ground. Aryan knew that button. It was part of the uniform worn by the guards in 2006. The 'Bloody Shadow' had returned to Meerut.