They had the ledgers.
Three black books that could end everything.
Or start a war.
Bharat wasn't sure which would be worse.
The safe house basement smelled like mold and old concrete. A single bulb swung overhead, casting shadows that moved like they were alive. Peacock sat cross-legged on the floor, ledgers spread in front of her like tarot cards predicting everyone's doom.
"This is insane," she muttered.
"Define insane," Bharat said.
"This. All of this. The whole goddamn operation."
She pointed at the first ledger. Names. Dates. Amounts. A catalog of who paid what to keep the temple happy—or keep themselves alive.
"Look at this. Politicians. Businessmen. Police commissioners. Half of Mumbai's power structure is on Rajan's payroll."
"We knew that."
"Knowing and seeing are different."
She wasn't wrong.
Mira sat in the corner, silent. She hadn't spoken since they'd gotten back. Hadn't looked at him. Just sat there with her knuckles still raw from hitting that guard, face carved from stone.
Countdown: 18:12:04
Less than eighteen hours.
Eighteen hours to break a curse that had killed everyone who'd tried before him.
Eighteen hours to decide who to save and who to sacrifice.
Eighteen hours to figure out if his wife was a victim or a villain.
Or both.
"There's something else," Peacock said quietly.
"What?"
"Last page. Different handwriting. Different ink."
She slid the third ledger across the floor. Bharat picked it up.
And froze.
供奉名單
Temple Benefactors — Inner Circle
The handwriting was elegant. Old-fashioned. The kind that suggested power so old it didn't need to shout.
Names:
Suresh Kapoor — Construction
Vikram Malhotra — Real Estate
Arjun Bose — Banking
Devendra Shah — Temple Affairs
The room tilted.
Or maybe it was just Bharat.
Devendra Shah.
Dev.
Mira's father.
"Bharat?" Peacock's voice came from far away. "You okay?"
He wasn't.
Wasn't okay.
Wasn't anything.
Just a man staring at a name that rewrote his entire understanding of the world.
"He's on the list," Bharat said. His voice didn't sound like his. Sounded like someone else using his throat.
"Who?"
"Dev. Mira's father. He's on the benefactor list."
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Then Mira's voice—quiet, cold:
"Let me see."
She crossed the room.
Took the ledger from his hands.
Read the name.
Her face didn't change.
Didn't flicker.
Like she'd already known.
Or like she'd become very good at not showing what she felt.
"Mira," Bharat said carefully. "Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That your father was involved. That he was part of this."
Long pause.
Then:
"I knew he worked with the temple. I didn't know how deep."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
She handed the ledger back. Walked to the window. Stared out at the rain-soaked city like she was looking for something she'd lost a long time ago.
"What does 'Temple Affairs' mean?" Peacock asked.
"It means he's not just paying the temple," Bharat said. "He's running part of it."
"Which part?"
"The part that decides who gets chosen for the curse. Who gets harvested. Who lives. Who dies."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Toxic.
Choking.
"So Mira's father," Peacock said slowly, "is one of the people who put you on that altar."
"Yes."
"And Mira knew."
"I don't know what Mira knew."
He looked at his wife.
At the woman standing by the window with her back to him.
At the stranger he'd married.
"Mira," he said quietly. "Turn around."
She didn't.
"Mira. TURN AROUND."
She did.
Slowly.
Like she was preparing for battle.
Her eyes were dark. Unreadable. The eyes of someone who'd learned to bury everything so deep even they couldn't find it anymore.
"Did you know?" Bharat asked. "Did you know your father was part of the council that chose me?"
"I knew he had influence."
"That's not what I asked."
"I KNOW WHAT YOU ASKED."
Her voice cracked.
Just for a second.
Then she pulled it back together. Locked it down. Became stone again.
"I knew he had a say. I didn't know it was his final decision."
"But you suspected."
"Yes."
"And you still married me. Still pushed me into this."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I thought you could break it. I thought you were strong enough. Smart enough. Desperate enough."
"You used me."
"I SAVED you. There were four other candidates. Do you know what happened to them?"
"Tell me."
"They ran. And the temple found them. And made examples. Public ones. The kind that end up in rivers with their tongues cut out."
Silence.
"So you married me to protect me."
"I married you because you were the only one who had a chance. The only one who might actually survive this."
"And if I don't?"
"Then at least you tried. That's more than anyone else got."
Bharat turned away.
Couldn't look at her anymore.
Couldn't process the math of her logic.
The cold, brutal calculation that said:Better you than someone who'll definitely die.
Peacock cleared her throat.
"So what do we do with this?"
"What do you mean?"
"The list. The names. We have proof that Mira's father—and half of Mumbai's elite—are funding a murder cult. That's leverage."
"Or a death sentence."
"Same thing, really."
Bharat looked at the ledger.
At Dev's name.
At the careful, elegant handwriting that recorded sins like they were business transactions.
"If we expose this," he said slowly, "we destroy everyone on that list. Including Dev."
"Yes."
"And if we don't, they'll keep doing this. Keep choosing people. Keep feeding the curse."
"Also yes."
"So we're choosing between justice and survival."
"Welcome to adulthood. It fucking sucks."
Mira's voice, quiet from the window:
"He'll choose the temple."
Bharat turned.
"What?"
"My father. If you force him to choose between me and the temple, he'll choose the temple."
"You don't know that."
"I do. I've known it my whole life. Why do you think I learned to dance? To fight? To survive without him?"
She finally looked at Bharat.
Really looked.
And for the first time since he'd met her, he saw something genuine in her face. Something raw.
Fear.
"He's not a monster," she said quietly. "But he's not a father either. Not really. He's a man who made a deal with something dark a long time ago, and he's been paying the price ever since."
"What kind of deal?"
"I don't know. He's never told me. But I've seen the way he looks at the temple. The way he flinches when the bells ring. Like he's waiting for something to come collect."
"Come collect what?"
"Whatever he promised."
Countdown: 17:47:23
Bharat's phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Text:
"I know you have the ledgers. Bring them to the temple. Midnight. Come alone, or the girl dies."
Attached: A photo of Priya. The girl they'd saved. Tied to a chair in a room Bharat didn't recognize. Alive. Terrified.
"FUCK."
Peacock was beside him instantly.
"What?"
He showed her the phone.
"They have her. They have Priya."
"How? We moved her. Changed locations. How the hell did they—"
"It doesn't matter how. They have her. And they want the ledgers."
"So we give them the ledgers and she dies anyway. That's how this works."
"I know."
"So what do we do?"
Bharat looked at Mira.
At the woman who'd lied to him. Used him. Married him knowing he might die.
At the woman who was also a victim.
Also a prisoner.
Also someone trying to survive a system that ground people into dust.
"We go to the temple," he said. "But not to trade. To end this."
"With what army?"
"With information. Names. Proof. We turn the temple against itself."
"That's suicide."
"Probably. But it's the only move we have left."
Mira stepped forward.
"I'm coming with you."
"No."
"Bharat—"
"NO. This is my curse. My fight. I'm not dragging you deeper into this."
"You don't get to protect me. Not after everything."
"Watch me."
She grabbed his arm. Hard.
"If you go to that temple alone, you'll die. You know that. I know that. Everyone in this room knows that."
"Better me than you."
"That's not your choice to make."
"It's exactly my choice."
They stared at each other.
Two people who'd gotten married in a basement while bells screamed overhead.
Two people who'd never really known each other.
Two people who might not survive the night.
"Fine," Bharat said finally. "You come. But if it goes bad—if they make me choose between you and breaking the curse—I'm choosing the curse."
"I know."
"And you're okay with that?"
"No. But I understand it."
She stepped closer. Close enough he could see the small scar above her left eyebrow. Close enough to smell her perfume—something floral and faint, almost gone.
"Bharat," she said quietly. "My father's going to come for us. Before midnight. Before we can use those ledgers."
"How do you know?"
"Because that's what I'd do. Cut the threat before it grows."
"Let him come."
"He won't come alone."
"I don't care."
"You should."
She touched his face. Gentle. Almost tender.
"He's going to ask you to choose. Between me and the information. Between love and justice. Between the person you are and the person you need to be."
"And what should I choose?"
Long pause.
Then:
"I don't know. But whatever you choose, I need you to know something."
"What?"
"I didn't marry you to use you. I married you because in a world that gave me no choices, you felt like the one thing I got to decide for myself."
"Even knowing I might die?"
"Even knowing. Maybe because. I wanted one real thing before the world took everything else."
"That's fucked up."
"I know."
Her hand dropped.
"But it's the truth. And I think that's the first completely honest thing I've said to you since we met."
Footsteps.
Outside.
Heavy.
Multiple people.
Peacock was at the window instantly.
"We've got company. Three cars. Armed men. And someone who looks like he thinks he owns the world."
"Dev," Mira whispered.
"Your father?"
"Yes."
"How did he find us?"
"Because he always does. Because he's been doing this longer than we've been alive. Because the temple sees everything."
The doorbell rang.
Polite.
Civilized.
Like death coming with good manners.
Peacock looked at Bharat.
"What do we do?"
Countdown: 17:32:19
Bharat looked at the ledgers.
At Mira.
At the door.
"We let him in," he said. "And we find out if he's here to save his daughter or kill her husband."
"And if it's the latter?"
Bharat's hand found the small knife in his pocket. The one he'd been carrying since the curse started.
"Then I make sure he regrets it."