BANGALORE:

The ballistics lab was colder than it needed to be, kept that way for the equipment, not the people.

Mira stood at the table. Three trays of bullet casings were in front of her. “You said you found a match,” she said. “Show me.”

“Three casings,” Dr. Kamath said. “One from a shooting. One from a seized crate. One from Alibaug; sent by CBI.”

“How do you know they match?”

“Every gun leaves a tiny mark on the bullet when it fires, like a fingerprint. All three have the same mark.”

“So, same gun. Used in all three?” Mira inquired suspiciously.

Dr. Kamath answered firmly. “Same gun.”

Mira nodded. “But one was from a shooting, and one was just sitting in a crate. Why would the same gun be in both places?”

Dr. Kamath looked up at her and answered confidently. “Because after the shooting, someone took the gun back. It didn’t stay with the shooter. It went back into their stock…” he stopped and searched her face, then completed his words. “To be used again later.”

Mira easily caught the guess. “So they’re not throwing the guns away after using them. They’re reusing them, tracking them, like inventory.”

Dr. Kamath nodded. “Exactly.”

She continued, “Then the shooter doesn’t matter much to them,” she said. “The gun matters. Someone’s keeping count of it. Someone expects it back.”

Kamath nodded. “You think it’ll show up again somewhere else?”

“I think it already has. Twice, and we only caught it because we checked.” She looked at him. “How many other casings do you have that nobody’s ever compared to each other?”

He paused. “A lot”

“Compare all of them. Every unsolved shooting in the last two years.”

That could take months.” Dr. Kamath replied.

Mira said. “I’m not looking to prove what we already know. I’m looking for the one casing that doesn’t match the pattern. Because that means something went wrong with a shipment. And when something goes wrong, that’s the only time they slip up enough for us to follow them.”

After some hours:

MIRA’S P.O.V:

I was here to meet Akash. I had something to ask him, and once my work was done. I rose to my feet and walked out of the restaurant, my phone in hand, glancing at the screen as I made my way outside. I was distracted, but my awareness of the world around me never disappeared. I noticed the people in my path, adjusted, and kept walking without bumping into anyone.

But then, out of nowhere, someone caught my arm from behind. I was pulled sharply backward into a corner, and before I could turn around, I was pressed against a broad chest.

The scent of that person was enough for me to recognize him. I knew that scent all too well, it belonged to none other than Shah. My teeth clenched, annoyance flaring within me.

I turned sharply and faced him. And there he was, the jerk, standing rigidly in my path, completely and utterly emotionless.

And this fucking man actually had the nerve to stop me and start complaining. “Head down, lost again. You’re easy to corner when you never look up.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Keeps underestimating me, it makes things easier.”

He stood there, and I studied every line of his expression. His jaw was tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides. And I knew exactly why.

A smirk tugged at my lips. “You hide it well, that burn behind your calm. I have always seen the fire you pretend isn’t there, louder than your taunts.”

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t annoyed.

He was jealous.

Yes. He was fucking jealous.

A low wince slipped past my lips when his hand curled around my neck; not choking me, just holding me there. Then he pulled me closer, but I didn’t react. Not yet.

His lips hovered inches from my ear before he finally spoke, his deep voice sending a shiver through me.

“You’re just a woman who can be claimed. What more is there to you?”

There wasn’t a single person around, yet something hollow opened inside my chest.

“Claimed? That’s all you see because that’s all you can grasp. What more is there to me? Enough to burn through your arrogance.”

Then he hissed into my ear, “If you think I’m patient with you, I pity you. I have tolerated you since the day you entered my life.”

With that, he released my neck and stepped back. His black eyes had always been a mystery. Every time I tried to read them, they only seemed to pull me deeper.

I clenched my fists at my sides, refusing to let him see how much his words affected me. If anything, the fire in my gaze burned hotter.

Then, with a single turn, he walked away.

........................

PENTHOUSE– AT 1:25 a.m.:

The entire house echoed with the sound of punches, coming from none other than the private gym on the upper floor. With every passing second, the blows grew louder, accompanied by harsh, strained growls, yet the punches kept landing heavily against the bag.

And there, in the gym, was none other than Mira Arora.

Her eyes flashed with fury. He had planted that anger inside her with every word he’d spoken.

His words had hit exactly where he intended them to.

The gym was cool, but sweat still rolled down her skin. Wearing only a sports bra and training pants, Mira hammered the heavy bag with punch after punch, each strike harder than the last.

The final punch landed harder than she intended.

“AHHH!”

With a frustrated growl, she slammed her fist against the side table, her anger reaching its peak. She had been doing this ever since she’d returned; punching the bag non-stop, trying to burn away the fury.

“I may have lost once, Zayne Shah, but don’t mistake that for weakness. I’ll win the next time. I fucking know how to bring you down.”

She kicked the punching bag with all her strength, the impact sending it swinging violently as she screamed the words.

TO BE CONTINUED….!