The safehouse had turned into a war room overnight. Maps of the city lined the walls, red circles marking possible choke points and escape routes. Strings connected photographs, notes, and locations, weaving a messy but deliberate web. Every member of the team sat at the table, their exhaustion visible, yet their focus razor-sharp.
Mukul stood at the head, arms folded, scanning the map one last time. "The Warden thrives in shadows, but shadows also limit him. He needs fear, silence, and isolation to strike. So, we give him exactly what he wants—an opening. Except this time, it's a trap."
Priya shifted uneasily, still pale from the previous night. "You're talking about using me again, aren't you?"
Mukul met her eyes. "I'm talking about using what he already chose. He marked you. That means he'll come back. The difference is, we'll be ready."
Raghav crossed his arms. "And what if he sees through it? He's clever, Mukul. Too clever."
"That's why it has to feel real," Ansh replied, his voice calm but firm. "We don't overcomplicate it. We just let him believe Priya is alone, vulnerable, while the rest of us stay hidden."
Kavya shook her head sharply. "Hidden won't work. He feels the presence of a predator. If he senses even one of us, he won't step in. We need something else."
Silence stretched. Then Mukul tapped the map, pointing to an abandoned subway station on the edge of the city. "Here. The old Rajpur Line. Isolated. No cameras. The perfect hunting ground. He'll think it's his choice when, in reality, it's ours."
Raghav smirked grimly. "A spider's web. Nice."
Later that night, the team moved quietly through the deserted station. Rusted tracks ran into darkness, water dripping from cracked ceilings. It reeked of damp stone and dust—exactly the kind of place the Warden favoured.
Mukul placed motion sensors in the shadows, their faint green lights almost invisible. Raghav and Ansh secured the exits with hidden tripwires, each one linked to silent alarms. Kavya set up a concealed perch on a balcony above, her eyes scanning every corner.
Priya stood at the platform's centre, clutching the same charm she had held during her encounter. She swallowed hard. "It feels wrong to stand here, waiting. Like I'm actually helpless."
"You're not," Mukul assured, his voice low but steady as he adjusted the earpiece in her ear. "The moment he comes, we'll close in. You won't even have to move."
Still, he noticed her trembling fingers. For a moment, the leader in him faded, and it was just Mukul, looking at a friend forced into danger. He reached out, brushing his hand against hers. "Trust me, Priya. We're ending this."
She nodded, drawing in a shaky breath.
Once everything was in place, the team withdrew into their positions. The silence of the abandoned station pressed in like a weight. Every drip of water, every echo of shifting stone seemed to carry the possibility of danger.
Mukul crouched in the shadows near the control room, eyes fixed on Priya's figure illuminated under a broken overhead light. Through his earpiece, he whispered, "Steady. He'll come. And when he does, he won't leave."
Minutes stretched into an hour. Nothing. Just darkness and the faint hum of the city above.
Raghav muttered, "Maybe he's too smart for this."
But just then, the overhead light flickered twice, buzzing faintly, before plunging the platform into deeper shadow. A faint chill rippled through the air, sharp enough that even from the shadows, Mukul felt it.
Priya stiffened. Her breath quickened.
He was here.
High above, hidden in the rafters, the Warden stood, faceless mask glinting in the faint light. He tilted his head, watching Priya, her fear radiating like a beacon.
Yes. Vulnerable. Alone. Perfect.
What he didn't know—what Mukul was counting on—was that tonight, the hunter was walking straight into a snare.