Chapter 40: The First Strike

The morning arrived quietly, unnaturally so.

The air felt heavy — like the sky was holding its breath. Aarav stood by the window, staring into the trees, sensing the world shift, though he couldn't say how. He kept thinking of Rehan's words:

"They're inside. They've already touched too much."

Mira was humming gently as she sorted through her belongings. She paused at a small box on the side table. Inside it: a candle with lavender-scented wax.

"This is from Naira," she'd told him the night before.

"She thought it would help me sleep."

Aarav had smiled then, but now his jaw tensed slightly. Why hadn't he seen it first?

Out by the shed, Rehan was checking the generator fuel line. His instincts had sharpened over the years, and what he found made his blood run cold — the fuel line had been deliberately sliced, almost too cleanly.

Not amateur work.

And nearby, behind the tool rack, a faint trace of accelerant lingered.

"Someone meant for this place to go up in flames," Rehan muttered.

He radioed Aarav immediately. "Sabotage. The backup generator was rigged. If you had used it…"

The words hung there, unfinished — but both men knew what it meant.

Inside the house, Mira had already lit the lavender candle. The flame flickered peacefully, the scent sweet and calming. But within minutes, Mira's vision blurred. Her limbs grew heavy.

She stumbled forward.

Then collapsed.

Aarav didn't hesitate.

He slammed through the front door, calling, "Mira!"

He found her barely conscious, collapsed near the fireplace.

Rehan arrived seconds later. "Something's wrong."

Aarav spotted the candle and grabbed it. His nose caught a whiff — faint but distinct.

Chloroform-laced wax.

"Get her outside!"

As the fresh air hit her lungs, Mira coughed hard. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fought the dizziness.

"I'm here," Aarav whispered. "You're safe."

She clung to him like the world was slipping away. "I… I didn't know… it was just a candle…"

Rehan crouched beside them, eyes grim. "That wasn't a gift. It was a warning."

Mira's brows furrowed. "But… Naira gave it to me."

The words hung in the air.

Rehan and Aarav exchanged a glance — neither spoke.

Later that night, Aarav sat alone in the hallway, staring at the candle's remnants. The wick had burned too cleanly. Too long-lasting. It wasn't something store-bought.

It had been custom made.

He flipped the small box it came in. A smudge of ink lined the inside lid. Barely noticeable — but he recognized the handwriting.

A single initial: "S."

Aarav's eyes narrowed.

Samir?

Saira?

Samin — the courier?

Or… was it someone intentionally masking their trail?

Meanwhile, in the shadows near the study, a figure moved silently. They paused by the doorway, just within earshot of Aarav and Mira.

Then turned.

And vanished into the dark corridor.

They walked with familiarity.

Not fear.