part 5

The African man on his side immediately waved his revolver at her again.

"Don't even dare," he said.

Saya raised her hands, trying to push him away, but the third African man, who had climbed into the back seat, grabbed her by the neck from behind.

In the struggle that followed, Saya was dragged to the back seat, while the man who had been standing by the front door took her now-empty seat in the front.

Meanwhile, Daren lay curled up on the road.

Overwhelmed by pain, he could only hear the commotion around him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get up.

The man standing over him kept kicking him with his boots, thwarting every attempt he made to stand.

Inside the car, Saya was fighting her own battle against her attackers.

In one last attempt, Daren managed to lift his head—just as a gunshot rang out inside the car.

And at that very moment, he lost consciousness.

---

Daren opened his eyes.

He was lying alone on the road.

There was no car, no Saya.

Neither alive nor dead.

He tried to recall how everything had unfolded so suddenly.

Just moments ago, they had been out for a drive after dinner, and then—

Daren shivered.

Where was Saya?

He looked around as far as his vision allowed.

Saya was nowhere to be seen.

Panic gripped him.

He tried to estimate how far he was from the hotel.

The attack had happened after about a thirty-minute drive, which meant the hotel was about fifteen kilometers behind him.

Daren held his head in his hands.

"Oh God," he muttered, doubling over on the road. "What happened to Saya?"

And then he lost consciousness again.

---

The next time he opened his eyes, he found himself in a hospital.

A doctor, a nurse, and a police officer stood beside his bed.

"Me… I…?" he stammered.

"You're fine," the doctor reassured him. "You're in the hospital."

"My wife?"

"What exactly happened to you?" the police officer asked.

"Where is my wife?"

"We'll tell you, but first, you need to give us a detailed account of what happened."

Despite the pain in his head, Daren narrated the entire ordeal.

"My wife…?" he finally asked. "Is she alright?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Daren," the African police officer said solemnly. "Your wife is no longer in this world."

Daren shut his eyes.

"And given your current condition, I regret to inform you that you are now in police custody."

"For what crime?"

"For the murder of your wife."

---

Karnal, India

Inside the Officer's Mess bar at the Haryana Police Academy in Madhuban, three high-ranking officers sat together late into the night—DGP R.K. Sindhu, DGP Brijlal Yadav, and Delhi Police Commissioner Neeraj Kumar.

They had known each other for years, each leading the police forces of Haryana, Uttar Pradesh, and Delhi, respectively. But tonight, they had gathered for a very specific and urgent reason.

"Kumar," R.K. Sindhu addressed the Delhi Commissioner. "What's the real reason behind this meeting?"

"It's something important," Neeraj Kumar replied. "Delhi Police needs assistance from both of your forces in managing crime within our jurisdiction."

"But we've always cooperated whenever needed," Yadav said. "So why the need for a special meeting this time?"

"Because this case is different," Kumar explained. "And that's why we need a special kind of collaboration from both of you."

"That means the situation must be serious."

"It is," Kumar said.

"An organized crime syndicate?" Yadav asked.

"Yes."

"In which area?" Sindhu inquired. "Land grabbing? Illegal construction? Bootlegging? Underground gambling? Match-fixing syndicates? Mining? Or is it a terrorism issue?"

"None of these," Kumar replied. "This time, it's something else—a crime that has recently resurfaced in Delhi's crime statistics, and through this meeting, Delhi Police wants to put a firm check on it."

"I'm not following," Sindhu said. "Even if crime levels have shifted in Delhi, what role does Haryana and Uttar Pradesh Police have in controlling it?"

"You'll see," Neeraj Kumar said. "But first, I need to explain it in my own way."

"Hmm." Yadav, known for his calm and serious demeanor, nodded. "Go ahead."

Before Kumar could speak, Sindhu gestured toward a steward standing in the corner.

"One moment," he said. "Before we get into this serious discussion, let's make this meeting memorable with some hospitality."

Yadav and Kumar exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.

Within five minutes, the table in front of them was set with an assortment of snacks and three glasses of whiskey.

"A toast," Sindhu said, raising his glass. "To our friendship and good health."

"Ameen," the other two said, clinking their glasses together.