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Author pov
The wall clock at the CBI headquarters struck one in the morning. The conference room was dimly lit, files scattered across the long mahogany table, and the stale smell of cold coffee hung in the air. Senior officers sat with tired eyes, yet the weight of the case kept them awake.
The silence shattered with a shrill, persistent ring of the telephone.
Senior Officer Rao, silver-haired yet sharp-eyed, turned toward his junior.
"Chetan, pick up the phone."
But Junior Officer Chetan sat slumped, his mind elsewhere, staring blankly at the table.
Rao's tone hardened. "Chetan! Didn't you hear me? Where is your attention?"
Startled, Chetan jerked upright, fumbling for the receiver.
"Sir? Did you... say something?"
"Yes," Rao snapped. "The phone. It's been ringing long enough."
"Yes, sir." Chetan swallowed hard and lifted the receiver.
"Hello?"
Before he could say more, a frantic voice burst through the line.
"I need to speak with Officer Rao. Urgently."
Chetan's eyes widened. He covered the mouthpiece and looked toward his senior.
"Sir... this call is for you."
Rao rose, taking the receiver with a controlled calm. His voice was steady, but impatience edged every syllable.
"This is Officer Rao speaking."
"Sir..." The caller's voice shook with exhaustion and urgency. "We've found her."
Rao's grip on the receiver tightened. "Are you certain, Deshmukh? Is it really her?"
The room froze. Files still. The chairs stopped creaking. Every officer turned.
"Yes, sir, and Mr. Rathore is with us. He's injured and most of our men are down." Deshmukh replied, his breath uneven.
Rao's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening against the table. "Where are you now?"
"In the ambulance, heading to City General Hospital. Sir... her condition is critical. Deshmukh answered. "
Rao inhaled sharply, then forced his voice into command. "Stay where you are. We're on our way."
Slamming the phone down, Rao barked across the room.
"Everyone, get ready. We leave now!"
The ambulance screeched to a halt outside City General Hospital, brakes screaming against the night. The doors burst open and ward boys rushed forward.
A stretcher rolled out, and gasps escaped the crowd.
A young woman lay sprawled on it — her face ghostly pale beneath streaks of dried blood, tangled hair sticking to her cheeks. An oxygen mask pressed against her lips, fogging faintly with each fragile breath. Crimson soaked through her clothes, dripping from her arm where glass had torn deep, and a dark stain spread across her side where the bullet wound bled stubbornly. Her pulse monitor beeped weakly, as if clinging to life by a thread.
"Quickly! Move, move!" a doctor shouted, his voice sharp with urgency. Nurses scrambled to keep the IV line steady, one of them pressing a wad of gauze against her wound, her gloves turning red within seconds.
The wheels of the stretcher rattled against the tiled floor as they pushed her inside. The fluorescent lights above flickered across her unconscious face — a face that carried both innocence and mystery.
Behind her, two officers, groaning and bloodied, were lifted onto trolleys, but all eyes remained fixed on the girl.
One doctor snapped at a nurse, "Where's Dr. Rishi? We need him now!"
The nurse's voice trembled. "He's still in surgery... at least another hour before he's free."
The doctor cursed under his breath, gripping the stretcher rail tighter. "She doesn't have an hour. Prepare OT immediately. Call in whoever is available — now!"
The scene swirled in chaos — nurses running, doors swinging open, orderlies shouting — while Rao and his men stood frozen for a moment, shaken by the sight. For 3 months, she had been nothing but a name on a file, a ghost of the past. Now, here she was — alive, yet hanging by the thinnest strand between life and death.
Rao arrived at the hospital, his shoes echoing against the sterile tiles. The sharp sting of antiseptic filled the air as he spotted Inspector Deshmukh near the corridor. The younger officer's shirt was rumpled, his shirt stained with dust and streaked with blood. He looked like a man who had barely survived the night.
"Where is she now?" Rao demanded, his voice clipped.
"In surgery," Deshmukh replied, his shoulders sagging under exhaustion.
"And Rathore? How bad is he?" Rao demanded
"He was shot just a graze," Deshmukh said quickly. "He's stable, in VVIP Ward 5, Room 7."
"I'll go see him." Rao declared with authority.
Deshmukh straightened, blocking Rao slightly. "Not possible, sir. He's under anesthesia. Security is airtight. No one enters without higher clearance. Not even you."
Rao's eyes narrowed. The fluorescent lights glinted off his steel-grey hair as he leaned closer.
"What about the others?" He said.
"They're in treatment," Deshmukh admitted.
Rao lowered his voice, sharp as a blade. "Then tell me everything. How did you know she was there?"
Deshmukh's lips tightened. "I... don't know. Rathore called me. When we reached, ACP Vijay and his Special Crime Branch team were already inside. Honestly, sir after all these months, we never found a single trace of her. I still don't understand how they knew."
Rao's jaw locked. His voice turned to steel. "This case belongs to us. I'll handle it."
Before Deshmukh could answer, a mocking sound echoed through the corridor — a slow, deliberate clap.
"Yes, of course," a voice cut in, laced with irony. "You didn't even know if she was alive or dead. And all this time, you wasted days trying to prove she was gone."
Rao turned sharply. Standing a few feet away was ACP Vijay — tall, lean, his sharp eyes glinting under the fluorescent lights.
"You?" Rao muttered.
"Yes, me," Vijay snapped, stepping forward. "Thirty years you've given this department, Rao. And I respect that, everyone does. You're the most honest officer we have. But honesty doesn't win cases. Results do."
Rao's jaw tightened. "Respect won't excuse arrogance, Vijay. Don't mix personal feelings with professional work."
Vijay's voice rose. "This isn't personal! There's a bigger conspiracy here, and you refuse to see it. While you were stuck in protocol, I went in and found her!"
Rao slammed his palm against the wall, eyes burning. "Careful, Vijay. You think one lucky break makes you a hero? You've no idea what I've sacrificed for this case. Thirty years of service, and I've never let emotions cloud my judgment. Don't tell me how to do my job."
Vijay clenched his fists but held his ground. "Maybe so. But if you keep ignoring the truth, you'll lose this case and her all over again."
Their voices ricocheted through the sterile corridor, the air between them thick with fury and pride.
And then
"Enough."
The single word cut through like a blade. Both men turned.
At the far end of the corridor stood CBI SSP Prithvi Chauhan, thirty-one years old, tall and broad-shouldered. His fair skin gleamed under the harsh hospital lights, and his dark brown eyes carried an authority that instantly silenced the chaos. His presence alone commanded obedience.
Novel: Oooof... such tension between Rao and Vijay!
Author: That's how it should be suspense, drama, and mystery.
Novel: But you almost made them fight in the hospital corridor!
Author: Shhh, I have to keep readers on the edge.
Novel: Edge?? They're practically falling off the cliff of suspense! 😂
Novel: Author... did you see? Rao slammed the wall so hard, even I felt the vibration.
Author: That's called intensity.
Novel: Next time warn me first, I nearly dropped my coffee! ☕💥
Author: You drink coffee?
Novel: Of course, how else do you survive writing at 1 a.m.?
Novel: By the way, Author... who is this mysterious "she" everyone's talking about?
Author: That's a secret.
Novel: Oh, come on! At least give me a hint.
Author: No spoilers.
Novel: Fine. Turns to readers — "Okay, audience, keep guessing. Even I don't know!" 😤
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