Chapter 90 (Part 02)
The morning of the City Sports Tournament arrived like a thunderclap.
Alok had not slept. He had lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, the pendant cold against his chest.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the black car. The bodyguard. The figure stepping inside, disappearing into the shadows.
Who are you hiding from? he had thought. And what are you planning?
He had no answers. Only questions. Only suspicion.
He rose before dawn, dressed in silence, and walked through the empty house. Agata was still asleep, her face peaceful. His mother was already in the kitchen, her back to him, stirring something on the stove.
"Be careful today," she said without turning around.
Alok paused at the door. "I will."
"Promise me."
He hesitated. Then: "I promise."
He walked out into the pale morning light.
The school had transformed overnight.
Banners stretched across every building. Colored flags lined the pathways. Tents and stalls had sprung up like mushrooms, their bright fabrics rippling in the early breeze.
The track gleamed with fresh paint, and the bleachers were packed with students, parents, and visitors from across the continent.
The air buzzed with excitement.
Alok walked through the crowd like a ghost, his eyes scanning every face, every shadow. He was looking for Tira. He did not find her.
He found Ravel instead.
Ravel stood near the entrance to the combat arena, his arms crossed, his face pale. He looked like a man waiting for an execution. When he saw Alok, his eyes flickered something between fear and hope.
Alok walked past him without speaking.
Ravel did not follow.
The combat event was the main attraction of the festival.
Students from multiple schools had gathered to compete not just in sports, but in the kind of physical contests that drew crowds. It was meant to be friendly competition. But Alok knew better.
Friendly competition did not require bodyguards and secret cars.
He stood in the waiting area, his hands loose at his sides, his breathing steady. Around him, other students stretched, whispered, and sized each other up.
Alok did not look at them.
He was watching the crowd.
And then he saw her.
Tira was sitting in the front row of the bleachers, surrounded by a group of girls.
Her face was bright with laughter, her hands gesturing animatedly as she spoke. She looked completely ordinary. Completely harmless.
Alok's jaw tightened.
Too ordinary.
He turned away and stepped into the arena.
His first match was over in seconds.
His opponent was a tall, confident boy from a neighboring school. He charged forward with a grin, clearly expecting an easy victory.
Alok moved aside. One step. One twist. One precise strike.
The boy hit the ground, gasping.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Alok did not smile. He walked back to the waiting area, his expression cold, his mind elsewhere.
He did not look at Tira.
But he felt her gaze on him.
The matches continued throughout the morning.
Alok won each one with brutal efficiency. His movements were precise, controlled, almost mechanical. He did not show off. He did not taunt. He simply won.
By noon, he had advanced to the final round.
His opponent was a boy from Feilw Land tall, lean, with sharp eyes and a confident smirk. He moved like a trained fighter, his stance balanced, his strikes precise.
Alok felt the pendant pulse against his chest.
Warning? he wondered. Or confirmation?
The match began.
Alok moved cautiously, testing his opponent. The boy was fast faster than expected. His strikes came in quick, sharp combinations. Alok dodged, blocked, and countered, but the boy met each move with equal skill.
The crowd was silent, watching.
And then
Alok saw it.
A flicker in the boy's eyes. A glance toward the bleachers.
Alok followed the glance. Tira was watching, her phone in her hand, her expression unreadable.
She's watching. Alok's mind raced. She's not just a spectator. She's part of this.
He turned back to his opponent, his focus sharpening.
The boy lunged. Alok sidestepped, swept his leg, and brought him down.
The match was over.
The crowd erupted. But Alok was not listening.
He was watching Tira.
She was standing now, her phone pressed to her ear, her back to the arena. She was speaking to someone quickly, urgently.
Alok moved toward the edge of the arena.
But before he could reach her, she disappeared into the crowd.
The afternoon was a blur of waiting and watching.
Alok moved through the festival like a hunter, his eyes always scanning, always searching. He did not find Tira again.
But he found something else.
Ravel was standing near the back of the food tent, his shoulders slumped, his face pale. He was alone no friends, no teammates, no one.
When he saw Alok, he flinched.
Alok walked past him without speaking.
But he heard Ravel's voice, barely a whisper:
"Be careful tonight."
Alok stopped. He did not turn around.
"What do you know?"
Ravel's voice was hoarse. "She's not working alone. There's someone else. Someone she answers to."
Alok turned now, his eyes cold. "Who?"
Ravel shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know her name. But I've seen her. She's older. Dangerous. And she's the one giving the orders."
Alok stared at him for a long moment.
Then he turned and walked away.
The sun set slowly, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.
Alok stood at the edge of the school grounds, watching the festival lights flicker to life. The crowd had thinned. The noise had softened.
He had not found Tira again.
But he had found something more important: a new piece of the puzzle.
She's not working alone. Someone else is giving orders.
His hand moved to the pendant. It was warm now, pulsing gently not a warning, but a reminder.
He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Rihan:
[Alok: Tira has a handler. Someone above her. We need to find out who.]
The reply came quickly:
[Rihan: Where are you?]
[Alok: At the school. I'm going to follow her tonight.]
[Rihan: That's dangerous.]
[Alok: I know.]
He put the phone away and walked toward the shadows.
The night was dark and quiet.
Alok stood in the alley across from the school, his body pressed against the wall, his eyes fixed on the side gate. He had been waiting for over an hour.
And then he saw it.
The black car.
It pulled up silently, its headlights off, its engine barely audible. The bodyguard stepped out first, his eyes scanning the empty street.
Then the rear door opened.
A figure stepped out.
They were dressed differently now no longer the cheerful student, but someone else. Someone colder. They walked quickly toward the gate, their phone pressed to their ear.
Alok moved closer, staying in the shadows.
He heard fragments of their voice:
"...the festival was a distraction... he's suspicious... but it doesn't matter now... the package is ready..."
The bodyguard opened the car door for them. They climbed in.
And then the car was gone.
Alok stood in the shadows, his heart pounding, his mind racing.
The package is ready.
He did not know what that meant.
But he knew he had to find out.
POV SHIFT
Inside the black car, the figure leaned back in the leather seat.
The phone was still in their hand, the screen glowing with a new message.
[Message Received: Everything is in place. We move tomorrow.]
A smile curled at the corner of their lips.
"Good," they whispered.
The car disappeared into the night, carrying its secrets into the dark.