Devendra Shah walked into the room like he owned it.
Maybe he did.
Maybe he owned everything.
The city. The temple. The people.
The daughter standing across from him with murder in her eyes.
He was tall. Silver-haired. Expensively suited. The kind of man who looked like he'd been born in a boardroom and would die in one—cleanly, efficiently, with all his assets properly distributed.
But his eyes were tired.
Old.
Like they'd seen things they couldn't unsee.
"Bharat," he said. Voice smooth. Cultured. The kind of voice that never had to shout because people listened when it spoke.
"Mr. Shah."
"Dev, please. We're family now."
"Are we?"
"You married my daughter. That makes us family. Whether you like it or not."
He moved further into the room.
Didn't look at Mira.
Didn't acknowledge Peacock.
Just kept his eyes on Bharat like he was a problem to be solved.
"You've had an eventful evening," Dev continued. "Breaking into Rajan's estate. Stealing sensitive documents. Putting my daughter in danger."
"Your daughter can take care of herself."
"Can she?"
Now he looked at Mira.
Really looked.
And something flickered across his face—too fast to read. Regret? Fear? Love?
"Hello, Beta."
Mira's jaw tightened.
"Don't call me that."
"It's what you are. My daughter."
"No. I'm the thing you used to buy yourself time. The collateral you keep around in case the temple needs another sacrifice."
"That's not—"
"ISN'T IT?"
Her voice cracked.
Not with sadness.
With rage.
Years of it.
Buried.
Festering.
Finally breaking free.
"You put him on that altar," she said, pointing at Bharat. "You and your council. You chose him. Marked him. Sentenced him to death."
"I chose the person most likely to survive."
"You chose my HUSBAND."
"I chose the only man in Mumbai desperate and smart enough to have a chance at breaking the curse."
"And if he dies?"
"Then he dies. Like everyone else who's tried. That's how this works, Mira. You know that. I taught you that."
Silence.
Heavy.
Poisonous.
Bharat stepped forward.
"Why are you here, Dev?"
"To make you an offer."
"I'm not interested in offers."
"You will be."
Dev reached into his jacket. Bharat's hand went to his knife. Peacock moved toward her gun.
But Dev just pulled out an envelope.
Thick. Official-looking.
He set it on the table.
"Inside is a divorce agreement. Pre-signed by the temple council. And a letter offering you a position—Director of Temple Affairs. Six-figure salary. Immunity from prosecution. And release from the curse."
Silence.
"You can't release me from the curse. It doesn't work that way."
"Can't I?"
Dev smiled.
It was the saddest smile Bharat had ever seen.
"The curse is bound to a contract. Contracts can be... renegotiated. Under certain circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
"You divorce Mira. Take the position. Forget everything you've learned. And the curse transfers."
"To who?"
"Someone else. Someone who'll be chosen in the next cycle."
"So I save myself by condemning someone else."
"Yes."
"And you think I'll take that deal?"
"I think you're smart enough to recognize survival when it's offered."
Bharat looked at the envelope.
At the promise of life.
At the cost.
"And if I refuse?"
Dev's expression hardened.
"Then you die at midnight. And Mira becomes the temple's next target. They'll use her to send a message—that no one escapes. No one defies. No one survives."
"You'd let them kill your daughter?"
"I'd let them do what they've always done. What they'll always do. Because that's the system. And the system doesn't care about individuals. It cares about preservation."
"The system is murder."
"The system is order. Without it, this city falls apart. You think corruption is bad now? Wait until the temple collapses. Wait until every politician, every businessman, every person with power knows there's no consequence. No balance. No fear."
"Fear isn't order. It's tyranny."
"They're the same thing. You're just too young to know it yet."
Bharat picked up the envelope.
Opened it.
Read the contract.
It was real.
Official temple seal. Council signatures. Everything.
He could walk away.
Live.
All he had to do was sign.
And destroy his marriage.
Condemn someone else.
Become part of the machine.
He looked at Mira.
She was watching him with eyes that said:I understand if you sign. I won't blame you. I'd probably do the same.
He looked at Peacock.
She was watching him with eyes that said:Don't you fucking dare.
He looked at Dev.
At the man who'd built his life on compromises.
At the man who'd traded his soul piece by piece until there was nothing left but bureaucracy and regret.
"No," Bharat said.
"Excuse me?"
"No. I'm not signing."
"Bharat—"
"I'm not signing. I'm not divorcing Mira. I'm not taking your blood money. And I'm not letting this curse pass to someone else."
"Then you're a fool."
"Probably. But I'm a fool with evidence."
He held up the ledgers.
"Three books. Every name. Every payment. Every crime. Including yours."
Dev's face went pale.
"You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?"
"If you release those names, you destroy half of Mumbai's infrastructure. Police. Government. Business. Everything collapses."
"Then let it collapse. Maybe something better grows from the rubble."
"You're naive."
"I'm desperate. There's a difference."
Bharat stepped closer.
Close enough to see the small details Dev tried to hide.
The way his hands shook slightly.
The way his eyes kept darting to the door.
The way he stood like a man expecting violence.
And then Bharat felt it.
That familiar tug behind his eyes.
The contract vision activating.
Showing him something he shouldn't be able to see.
Dev's fear.
Not fear of Bharat.
Not fear of exposure.
Fear of something else.
Something older.
Deeper.
The vision sharpened:
Dev standing in front of the temple altar. Younger. Healthier. Making some kind of offering. Signing something in his own blood.
And a voice—ancient, terrible:
"When the harvest fails, you pay the price."
The vision ended.
Bharat staggered.
"You made a deal," he said quietly.
Dev froze.
"What?"
"You made a deal with the temple. A long time ago. And you're terrified it's going to come collect."
"I don't know what you're—"
"Yes you do. I can see it. The contract vision shows me truth. And your truth is that you're just as trapped as I am."
Silence.
Dev's mask cracked.
Just for a second.
Then he pulled it back together.
"Everyone makes deals," he said quietly. "That's what life is. A series of compromises until you can't remember who you were before you started trading pieces of yourself away."
"What did you trade?"
"My son."
The words fell like stones.
Mira's head snapped up.
"What?"
"I had a son. Before you. Before your mother. When I was young and stupid and thought I could outsmart the temple."
"What happened to him?"
"The harvest. Twenty years ago. He was chosen. And I made a deal—take him, spare me. Let me live to build the temple's power. Let me become useful."
"And they agreed."
"They always agree. When you offer them something valuable enough."
Mira's face was white.
"I had a brother."
"You had a brother. For three years. Then he was gone."
"And you never told me."
"What was there to tell? That I'm a coward? That I traded my child's life for my own? That I've spent every day since then trying to pretend it was necessary?"
"Was it?"
"I don't know anymore. I thought I was saving the family. Preserving our position. Ensuring survival. But all I did was ensure that I'd spend the rest of my life waiting for the temple to decide I'm no longer useful."
He looked at Bharat.
"That's what the curse is. Not punishment. Reclamation. The temple takes back what it's owed. And it's owed me."
"So you're trying to buy more time. By sacrificing me."
"By sacrificing anyone who might reset the cycle. Yes."
"That's monstrous."
"That's survival."
Bharat felt the countdown in his skull:
17:04:12
Less than seventeen hours.
He made a decision.
"I'll take your position," he said.
Everyone stared.
"What?" Mira whispered.
"I'll take the position. Director of Temple Affairs."
Dev's eyes narrowed.
"In exchange for?"
"Full access. Every record. Every contract. Every name. And the authority to conduct an internal investigation."
"That's—"
"Non-negotiable. You want me to join the system? Fine. But I'm burning it down from the inside."
"They'll kill you."
"They're already trying. At least this way I'll take some of them with me."
Dev considered.
Long silence.
Then:
"I'll present it to the council."
"You'll approve it. Tonight. Or I release these ledgers to every news outlet in Mumbai."
"That's blackmail."
"That's negotiation. You taught me that, remember? Everything's a deal."
Dev stood.
Straightened his jacket.
Became the businessman again.
The mask firmly in place.
"I'll have the paperwork ready by morning. You start tomorrow."
"I start tonight."
"Bharat—"
"TONIGHT. Or the deal's off."
Pause.
Then:
"Fine. I'll send a car. Midnight. The temple's waiting."
He walked to the door.
Stopped.
Looked back at Mira.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For everything. For the choices I made. For the father I wasn't. For the brother you never got to know."
"Sorry doesn't fix anything."
"I know. But it's all I have."
He left.
The door closed.
Silence rushed in.
Mira collapsed into a chair.
"I had a brother."
"Mira—"
"Don't. Just... don't."
She was shaking.
Not crying.
Just shaking.
Like her body was trying to process something her mind couldn't handle.
Bharat knelt beside her.
"I'm sorry."
"For what? You didn't kill him. You didn't make the deal."
"I'm sorry you had to learn like this."
"How else was I going to learn? Ask him nicely? 'Hey Dad, any dead siblings I should know about?'"
She laughed.
Sharp.
Bitter.
"God. My whole life. My WHOLE LIFE. And I never knew."
"What was his name?"
"I don't know. He never said."
She looked at Bharat.
"You know what the worst part is?"
"What?"
"I understand why he did it. I UNDERSTAND. And I hate myself for understanding."
Peacock's voice from across the room:
"We need to talk about what just happened."
"What about it?"
"You just agreed to work for the people trying to kill you."
"I know."
"That's insane."
"It's strategic."
"It's suicide."
"Maybe. But it gets me inside. Gets me access to the one thing I need."
"Which is?"
"The third object. The sanctum key. It's in the temple. Has to be. And now I'll have clearance to find it."
"And then what?"
"Then I break the curse. Free everyone. And burn the whole system to the ground."
"In seventeen hours."
"In seventeen hours."
Countdown: 16:47:09
Peacock stared at him.
"You're either a genius or an idiot."
"Probably both."
"Probably."
Bharat's phone buzzed.
Dev:
"Car arrives at 11:30 PM. Don't be late. And Bharat?"
"What?"
"The thing I'm afraid of. The thing you saw in your vision. It's not the temple's judgment."
"Then what is it?"
"It's knowing that when the temple finally comes to collect, I won't be able to protect Mira. And that terrifies me more than anything."
The message ended.
Bharat looked at Mira.
At his wife.
At the woman whose father had just revealed he was a monster trying very hard to be human.
"He loves you," Bharat said quietly.
"I know."
"In his own broken way."
"I know that too."
"Does that change anything?"
"No. Yes. I don't know."
She stood.
Walked to him.
Took his face in her hands.
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"When you go into that temple tonight. When you find what you're looking for. When you break this curse."
"Yeah?"
"Don't become him. Don't become my father. Don't trade pieces of yourself away until there's nothing left."
"I promise."
"Liar."
But she kissed him anyway.
Soft.
Desperate.
Like it might be the last time.