“Oh?” he snickers. “It’s safe to say that...guarding a bodywon’t be in his cards.”
A beat. Then, darker:
“Anymore.”
Her eyes flick to mine. And just for a second, I see it.Terror. Raw and real—the kind I’ve only seen whenI’min danger. That alone is enough to make my stomach flip. They have history. I don’t want to know what kind. But this has her frightened.
“Ah!” She recovers quickly. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we, Mehul? What do you want?”
Mehul cackles again—and somewhere in the distance, we hear a muffled scream. A man’s scream.
My blood turns to ice.
“Erase everything to do with my company from GenVault’s systems,” he says, voice now calm and calculated. “Do that, and they’ll be okay. You have six hours.”
Click.
Silence.
“He...” I start, panic clawing up my throat.
“He wants us to get rid of the fucking evidence,” Greesha sneers, already moving.
Before I’ve even blinked, she’s sprinting to her room. I follow—watching her strip off comfort and wrap herself in combat. She pulls on a tactical ensemble with practiced precision, loading weapons I didn’t even know she had. Magazines tucked under layers I’d never noticed. Blades hidden in seams.
It’s happening.
The fuckingendto this is here.
I dash to my room, tearing off sweatpants, yanking on jeans, throwing on a black leather jacket like it’ll help me match the hurricane in the other room.
By the time I’m back in the living room, she’s pacing near the door, practically vibrating with fury and purpose.
“Lock the door. Don’t wait up. If I don’t come back, get a message to Nayan Murthy—he’s saved as NDS in my phone,” shemutters in monotone, sliding a burner onto the kitchen island. “Call him if you hear nothing from me by midnight. Got it?”
Panic grabs my knees and nearly drags me down. I watch her start wrapping her hands like she’s heading into a ring. And maybe she is.
I cross the room and grip her shoulders. “I’m coming with you.”
She shoves me back—not harsh, just firm. “Stay.Here. Do I need to repeat myself?”
“Maybe, sweetheart. But I’m yourace,” I reply, calm and certain. “Me and my laptop? You will want us.”
She finally looks up. Her eyes widen—like she’s really seeing me. The outfit. The certainty. The steel under all my anxious chatter.
She shakes her head, already protesting. “No—”
“Yes,” I cut in, voice low. “Let’s go. Grab your phone. I’ve got my laptop.”
I don’t give her time to argue. It’s the best card we have left, and she knows it. I can flip the script if need be.
Grunting, she dials someone on her main phone as we head for the door.
“Did you get the location? I need it,now,” she says, voice smooth as cut glass.
“Roger that,” a male voice responds. A few seconds pass. “Transmitting now.”
She exhales slowly. I stay quiet. She doesn’t need my commentary right now. I’m not here to make this rescue feel like a duo. I’m just her backup. Maybe even her Achilles heel.
