“Good. Follow me. We’re headed to the warehouse where Mehul’s been keeping that new smart furniture shipment.”
I frown. The shift is so abrupt it almost gives me whiplash. There it is again. Vulnerability, then mission mode. It’s always been this with him, hasn’t it? And I’m just discovering this pattern.
“Right,” I murmur. “What are we looking for?”
“He’s bringing GenVault on a walkthrough next week,” Vir says. “Want to make sure there’s nothing in that facility that could blow our cover or compromise the op.”
Not‘keep the team safe.’Not‘get us in and out clean.’
Just theop.
I nod tightly and walk toward my bike. But my eyes drift back to the mirror windows of the GenVault building.
Advik’s still in there. Somewhere behind all that glass. And once again—without meaning to—I’m walking away.
Again.
??????
Three days later and I’m still seething.
Not irritated. Not miffed.Seething.
My mood has plummeted so deep it’s probably drilling tunnels through the Mariana Trench. And nothing—nothing—can dig me out of this funk.
It’s not just Vir or Advik. It’s the damn op.
Because now? It’s a full-blown mess. Someone took a shot at Mehul yesterday.
No one got hurt,thank god.Vir managed to shove him into the car before the bullet hit anyone. But it happenedright outside GenVault.
My stomach flips just thinking about it.
Because I wasn’tthere.
And Mehul—the bastard that he is—is now convinced I had something to do with the whole damn thing. Not explicitly, of course. No, he’s smarter than that. He just throws digs about myincompetent long-range surveillanceandfailure to detect basic threats.
Sorry, Mehul. I wasn’t too busy missing the shooter—I was busy plotting ways totrapyour ass, notassassinateit. You’re welcome.
I groan into my palms, still planted at my desk in GenVault office—aka Ground Zero of my current nightmare. I practically live here now. Between tailing Mehul, coordinating tech ops, and pretending to be his guard dog, I’ve forgotten what daylight looks like.
And to top it all off?
He’s started noticing me. Like,noticing. Thanks to the attempt on his life, his paranoia has turned me into some kind of personal target. Every time I breathe too loud, he glances over like I might turn traitor or savior.
I push off my chair and head toward Advik’s office. My boots echo through the corridor as I pass a couple of engineers who wave timidly. I give a stiff nod. Not in the mood.
His office door is ajar. I move closer—and freeze.
I hear him. His voice is low. Talking to someone on the phone, I assume.
“It’s not that... Khushi’s death has nothing to do with it... okay, maybesomething. But—”
I go still.
What the hell?
My mind races. Why is he talking aboutthatcase? Who the hell is on the other side of that line?
