Between Blade and Truth
Episode----- 46
Rain hammered the shuttered windows of the old print shop. Dust swirled like smoke as Dev bolted into the night, ledger clutched tight against his chest.
Behind him, footsteps slammed on wet cobblestones — Malik's men, knives drawn, eyes hungry for blood and secrets.
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Dev's breath came ragged, legs burning with every stride. If they catch me, it's over. For Aria. For Raian. For all of us.
Lightning flashed, painting twisted shadows on cracked walls. Dev turned into an alley barely wider than his shoulders, boots splashing through filthy water.
Print it. Publish it. Even if I die.
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Back at the print shop:
Ayan stood between Aria and danger, blade balanced in shaking hands. Bandages under his shirt stained red, every breath a struggle.
One of Malik's men circled, knife gleaming under the flickering bulb.
"Step aside, boy," he sneered. "We only want the doctor."
Ayan's answer came in steel — blade slashing forward. Sparks spat into darkness.
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Aria's heart hammered, sweat mingling with rain on her skin. She looked for an exit — but her gaze caught Lina, crouched near fallen shelves, bruised but alive.
"Aria, go!" Lina cried, voice raw.
"I can't leave you!" Aria shouted back, fear and fury clashing in her chest.
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Another attacker lunged toward Aria. Instinct flared — she swung an old metal rod, cracked from age. It caught his arm, enough to turn the blade.
Pain lanced through her wrist; she staggered but didn't fall.
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Bashir roared, tackling a third man into the press machine. Iron groaned; the attacker's head cracked against steel. Silence swallowed his scream.
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Rain poured through the shattered skylight, soaking ink‑stained floors. The room smelled of rust, sweat… and resolve.
Ayan blocked another strike, blade scraping so close sparks lit his sweat‑drenched hair. His ribs screamed; vision blurred.
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"Ayan!" Lina cried out.
He forced his gaze steady. I can't fall. Not yet.
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The man facing Aria raised his knife again, eyes wild.
"Should've run, doctor," he snarled.
Aria's voice trembled but didn't break. "And leave them to you?"
She gripped the rod tighter, blood from her palm dripping to the floor.
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The attacker lunged — and Ayan, breath ragged, twisted to intercept. His blade cut across the man's side; the attacker screamed, stumbled back.
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For a heartbeat, silence.
Ayan's chest heaved; Lina clutched her bruised arm; Bashir's eyes swept the room, searching for the next threat.
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Aria lowered the rod, breath shaking. We're still standing. Still fighting.
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Far across the city:
Dev burst from the alley into a deserted street. His lungs burned; heartbeat crashed in his ears.
A dark sedan screeched around the corner — Malik's men.
He dove behind a row of stacked crates, pulse roaring. Rain blurred his vision.
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Print it. Publish it. Even if they catch me.
His fingers tightened around the ledger, wet leather cover slick in his grip.
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In prison:
Chains rattled as guards dragged Raian from his cell, through mildew‑slick halls.
They threw him into a small room — stone walls, a single bulb flickering overhead.
The warden waited, arms folded, gaze cold.
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"Raian Mehra," he intoned. "Your woman makes noise. Dangerous noise."
Raian's breath caught. Aria… what have you done?
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The warden's stare sharpened. "Give us her location. Or tomorrow, you'll hang before dawn. And she'll follow."
Pain lanced through Raian's chest, sharper than the bruises. "I won't," he rasped, voice hoarse.
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"You love her, don't you?" the warden sneered.
Raian's silence was answer enough.
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"Then choose, Raian Mehra," the warden murmured. "Her life… or her betrayal."
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Memory twisted around his ribs: Aria's tear‑shined gaze, her trembling hands on his wounds, her whisper: "I won't leave you."
His fists curled until nails cut flesh. "I'd rather die," he rasped.
The warden's mouth thinned. "Then you may get your wish."
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Outside the print shop:
A sudden roar — engine in the alley.
Bashir's eyes widened. "They've sent more!"
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Ayan wiped rain from his brow. "We can't hold them forever."
Aria turned, chest tight, heart pounding. "Then go," she said to them. "All of you."
Lina grabbed her arm. "No!"
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Aria's voice broke but didn't waver. "They're after me, Lina. Not you. If you stay, you'll die for nothing."
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Ayan stepped closer, eyes raw. "Raian wouldn't want this."
"And what would he want?" Aria whispered, tears slipping down rain‑wet cheeks. "That I run while truth dies with me?"
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Bashir's stare turned hard, respect flickering behind weary eyes. "If you stay, you buy us time. But you must run after, doctor. Don't die here."
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Footsteps pounded closer. Rain hissed through broken glass.
Aria swallowed, fear choking her. If I fall, let Dev carry the truth.
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Back on the street:
Dev slipped between shuttered shops, lungs tearing for breath.
The dark sedan screeched to a stop — two men jumped out, blades glinting.
Dev ducked into a side lane, splinters scratching his face, heartbeat louder than thunder.
Just reach the press. Just one story. One truth.
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In prison:
Raian sank to the floor, back pressed to stone. His breath came shallow, vision tunneling.
His thoughts went not to death — but to Aria's smile, the warmth in her healer's hands.
Live, Aria, he begged silently. Even if I can't.
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At the print shop:
Ayan tightened his grip on the blade, every muscle screaming.
Lina braced beside him, broken chair leg raised like a club.
Bashir drew his old pistol, thumb trembling over the hammer.
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Rain poured in rivers through the broken ceiling. Ink blurred on soaked paper at Aria's feet.
She lifted her head, breath shaking, and whispered to herself: "We are truth. And truth doesn't run."
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Teaser for Episode 47:
Dev races to the printing press as Malik's men close in. Aria faces the attackers alone, knowing it may cost her life. And in prison, Raian makes a desperate bargain to save the woman he loves.