Reyna :-
The next day felt unreal.
Like I was walking inside a decision I hadn't fully accepted yet.
I barely had time to overthink before a familiar honk echoed outside the gate. I grabbed my bag and slipped out, my heart already beating faster than normal.
Rohan was in the driver's seat, sunglasses on, one hand on the steering wheel like he was starring in his own Bollywood thriller. I slid into the passenger seat, and before I could even shut the door-
"Oh wow," Maya drawled dramatically from the backseat. "Front seat? Passenger princess? Should I start playing romantic background music or give you two some privacy?"
Rohan and I spoke at the exact same time.
"Shut up, Maya."
She burst out laughing, throwing her head back. "See? Perfect couple coordination already."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the corner of my lips from twitching. For a moment, it felt normal. Like college days, stupid jokes, and harmless teasing- before mafia wars and marriages and blood threats took over my life.
The city began to change as we drove-crowded streets fading into forgotten lanes, noise dissolving into silence. Buildings looked older here, abandoned, like the world had moved on and left them behind.
My fingers curled tightly around my bag.
Rohan noticed.
Without saying a word, he reached over and gently held my hand- steady, grounding.
I looked at him, startled.
He didn't look back. Just squeezed my hand once.
"Hey," he said softly. "Don't panic. I know you can do this."
Maya immediately leaned forward from the backseat. "Oh my God. Hand-holding too? Should I cry now or later?"
"Drive straight, Maya," I snapped, but my voice shook a little.
Rohan chuckled. "Ignore her. You're doing this for Ira. And we've got this."
I nodded, even though my stomach was twisting.
As the car merged into traffic, I finally asked, "So... where are we meeting him?"
Rohan didn't look at me immediately. His voice dropped just a little when he answered.
"A place in Mumbai even Google Maps doesn't care about."
I frowned. "Meaning?"
"No CCTV cameras," he said calmly.
"No crowd."
"No evidence."
"And no way of getting caught."
Maya let out a low whistle. "Wow. Mister Criminal Mastermind."
I turned to Rohan, half impressed, half nervous. "You're scaring me. In a good way. I think."
He smirked. "Relax. I've done my homework."
Rohan glanced at me. "You've got the money, right?"
I shot him a look. "What do you think? I came to negotiate with my charm?"
Maya snorted. "Honestly, with your face, that might've worked too."
"Can you both focus?" I snapped, then sighed. "Yes. I have it."
Rohan nodded, satisfied. Then, like he'd remembered something extremely important, he added, "Oh, and there's a code."
I blinked. "A what?"
"A code," he repeated seriously. "Before meeting him, you have to say it."
My eyebrows shot up. "This is not some spy movie, Rohan."
"Oh, it absolutely is," Maya cut in. "Please tell me it's something dramatic."
Rohan grinned. "It's a Bollywood song."
I stared at him. "You're kidding."
"I'm not," he said proudly. "You say the first line. He completes the next or vice versa. That's how you know he's our guy."
Maya immediately clapped. "I LOVE THIS ALREADY."
I groaned. "Which song?"
Rohan cleared his throat, suddenly very serious.
"Ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga..."
I turned to him slowly. Very slowly.
"Wow, Rohan," I said dryly. "I'm going there to plan a fake attack, not romance him."
Maya burst out laughing so hard she almost choked. "PLEASE- this is gold."
"You just have to sing the next line," Rohan insisted. "That's it. He'll know you're legit."
"I refuse to flirt with a criminal using Bollywood lyrics," I said.
"Too late," Maya smirked. "Your life already is a Bollywood tragedy."
I shook my head, half laughing, half terrified. "If my father ever finds out..."
"He won't," Rohan said firmly. "That's the whole point."
Maya laughed so hard she almost dropped her phone. "Reyna Rathore, mafia princess, negotiating fake attacks with Bollywood romance codes. Wow. Iconic."
The car slowed as we reached the location.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
An abandoned warehouse near the docks, paint peeling off the walls, silence heavy in the air. No people. No noise. Just the distant sound of the sea and the weight of what we were about to do pressing down on my chest.
Rohan parked the car and turned off the engine.
"This is it," he said.
Just as I reached for the door handle, Rohan spoke again.
"Wait."
I paused, confused.
He leaned across the console and pulled out a black cap from the glove compartment, then a face mask, and finally- black sunglasses. The kind that hid everything.
He handed them to me, his expression suddenly serious.
"Wear these."
I frowned. "Why?"
"So no one sees your face clearly," he said quietly. "If anything goes wrong... if they get caught... they shouldn't be able to take your name."
The weight of his words settled heavily in my chest.
Maya peeked over the seat. "Wow. Secret agent Reyna unlocked. Next thing you know, she'll disappear into the shadows."
I tried to smile, but my fingers trembled slightly as I took the cap.
Rohan noticed. Of course he did.
He adjusted the cap on my head himself, gently pulling it lower. "You'll be fine," he said under his breath. "I've thought this through."
I slipped on the mask. Then the sunglasses.
The girl looking back at me in the car window didn't look like Reyna Rathore anymore.
She looked like a stranger.
My heartbeat picked up.
I took a deep breath, clutching my bag tighter.
For Ira.
For her happiness.
For stopping a marriage that felt like a death sentence.
I stepped out of the car-
unaware that somewhere else in Mumbai, real monsters were making real plans.
And that this "fake attack" was about to collide with something far more dangerous than any of us had imagined.
The moment my feet touched the ground, reality hit harder.
The air was thick. Heavy. Like the place itself knew something was about to go wrong.
I adjusted the strap of the bag on my shoulder- the weight of the money suddenly feeling heavier than it should have and looked ahead.
And froze.
Two men.
They stood a few feet apart, shadows stretching behind them, both dressed in dark clothes. One leaned casually against a pillar, cigarette dangling between his fingers. The other stood straight, alert- too alert.
My heart skipped.
Two?
Rohan had said one.
My mind spiraled instantly.
What if these aren't actors?
What if this is already going wrong?
What if....
I slowly turned my head back toward the car.
Rohan was watching me closely from the driver's seat. I lifted my hand slightly, my fingers curling into a nervous fist.
"There are two of them," I mouthed, panic creeping into my chest.
He stepped out of the car just enough to hear me and said in a low voice, "Maybe one's security."
"Security?" I hissed under my breath. "You said no extras."
"I said minimal," he corrected, then added calmly, "Relax. You can confirm it."
I blinked. "Confirm how?"
He tilted his head slightly toward the men. "The song. That's why we kept it."
My jaw tightened. This is insane.
Then he leaned closer, voice softer but firm. "Go straight. I think the one in front- the one leaning-that's our guy."
I stared at him. "You think?" I whispered sharply. "Seriously, Rohan? This is your master plan?"
He gave me a small, reassuring nod. "Trust me. And more importantly- trust yourself."
I turned back toward the men.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
Every instinct screamed at me to run back to the car, to abort this stupid plan, to pretend this was never my idea.
But then..
Something inside me settled.
A quiet pull.
A strange certainty.
I tightened my grip on the bag, straightened my shoulders, and took a deep breath.
For Ira, I reminded myself.
For her happiness.
I walked forward- slow, deliberate steps- toward the man in front.
Not looking back and trusting my gut.
I stopped a few feet away from him.
Close enough to see the sharp line of his jaw, the scars on his knuckles, the way his body language screamed danger instead of actor. My stomach twisted.
He doesn't look fake, my mind whispered.
He looks... real.
He hadn't turned yet.
For a second, I just stood there, clutching the bag like my life depended on it, waiting for him to face me. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
I glanced back over my shoulder.
Rohan caught my eye immediately.
He lifted two fingers subtly and then moved them like a microphone.
Sing.
My soul left my body.
I cannot believe I'm doing this. Taking a shaky breath, I turned back toward the man and sang, softly but clearly,
"Ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga..."
The man stiffened.
Slowly- very slowly-he turned around.
He was tall. Broad. Way too intimidating for a Bollywood sing-along.
His eyes narrowed in confusion as they landed on me- cap, mask, sunglasses, money bag and all.
I swallowed.
He didn't say anything.
So, like the idiot I was, I sang it again.
"Ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga..."
This time, louder.
His brows furrowed. "What the hell--?"
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to an urgent whisper.
"You have to sing the next line."
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Why?" he asked flatly.
My heart thudded. Oh no. Oh no no no.
I whispered quickly, "It's the code. Didn't you... forget?"
For a long, terrifying second, he just looked at me.
Like he was deciding whether to laugh... or shoot me.
Then, with the most confused expression I'd ever seen on a man's face, he sighed- and sang,
"Jaise khilta gulaab..."
Relief crashed into me so hard I almost laughed.
He continued, slowly gaining confidence,
"Jaise shayar ka khwaab...
Jaise ujli kiran...
Jaise ban mein hiran...."
"Okay, okay!" I interrupted quickly, raising a hand. "That's enough. Please."
Because trust me- that voice did not need an encore.
He stopped mid-line, offended.
I didn't care.
The moment he stopped singing, silence wrapped around us again- thick, uncomfortable, and charged with something I couldn't name.
I immediately thrust the bag toward him. "Here. The money."
He took it, weighing it in his hands, still eyeing me strangely.
"Next time," he muttered, "choose a better code."
I almost laughed out loud.
I cleared my throat, trying to sound confident.
"So... listen carefully."
He adjusted his grip on the bag, eyes sharp, alert now. No confusion left. Only calculation.
"We'll send you the exact location and venue," I said. "Two days before the event. Not before that."
He nodded slowly. "Good. Less risk."
I hesitated, then added, "And remember- only what we discussed. No real damage. No unnecessary drama."
His lips twitched. Not a smile. Something darker.
"That depends," he said, "on whether you brought all the money we asked for."
I stiffened.
Of course.
Greedy man.
I tilted my head slightly. "Why don't you check?"
He did. Opened the bag just enough to peek inside, fingers brushing against the edges of the cash.
My eyes followed his hands automatically and that's when I realized-
I was still holding the strap.
I frowned and started pulling my hand back.
Too late.
His gaze dropped. Right to my wrist.
To the small butterfly tattoo etched just below my skin. His eyes lingered there, longer than necessary.
"Nice tattoo," he said, voice low. "Suits you."
My stomach twisted.
I didn't respond.
Didn't smile.
Didn't thank him.
I simply yanked my hand away and stepped back.
Creep.
As I turned around, irritation burned under my skin. Why do men like this always think money buys entitlement too?
I walked back toward the car, heels crunching softly against the gravel. Rohan opened the door instantly, his eyes scanning my face for any sign of trouble.
I slid into the passenger seat without a word.
The engine started.
Just as we were about to pull away-
I saw movement.
Another man entered the area from the side, walking toward the another man standing there.
I only caught his back.
Broad shoulders.
Confident stride.
Something about him felt... familiar.
My chest tightened.
I leaned forward slightly, trying to see his face but he never turned.
"Rohan," I murmured. "Did you see that guy?"
He glanced in the mirror. "Which guy?"
"The one who just came in."
He looked again, then shrugged. "Probably part of their team. Don't overthink it."
But my instincts screamed otherwise.
As the car rolled away, I watched through the rear window until the figures disappeared into the shadows.
A strange unease settled in my chest.
I didn't know why.
All I knew was-
This wasn't as fake as we thought.
And whatever we'd just stepped into...
was already spiraling out of our control.
Parallel POV Kabir Raichand
On the other side of the city, at the very same hour-
Kabir Raichand's black SUV rolled into the abandoned dockyard road without headlights.
The engine cut off softly.
Silence swallowed the space.
Kabir stayed seated for a moment, fingers tapping against his phone as he scanned the surroundings. The place was exactly as described-forgotten, unguarded, invisible to the world. No cameras. No civilians. No unnecessary risks.
Efficient.
He stepped out of the car, adjusting the cuff of his shirt, his presence alone enough to command fear in places like this. His fingers tightened slightly around the briefcase.
Papa had been clear.
One man will be there. Talk fast. Pay him. Leave.
But the moment Kabir's gaze shifted ahead, his brows knit together.
Two men.
They stood a few feet apart, both tall, both built like trouble. One leaned casually against a pillar. The other stood straight, alert.
Kabir paused mid-step.
Papa said one...
His jaw clenched, mind calculating possibilities.
Maybe security, he reasoned. These men don't come alone.
He exhaled slowly and took another step forward.
That's when he saw her.
A girl- walking toward one of the men.
Kabir froze.
She stepped forward, dressed casually, hair tied back, Her figure was partially hidden by the dim light, but the way she moved-confident yet cautious-made something stir in his chest. Her face was covered with a mask and sunglasses but she looked... familiar.
Who the hell is she?
Before logic could catch up, he turned slightly and lifted his collar, angling his face away from the dim light. He took a step back toward his car, pretending to check his phone, but his attention was entirely on her.
What the hell is a girl doing here?
And worse-
Why does she feel out of place and exactly in place at the same time?
He watched as she spoke to one of the men, her tone firm, purposeful. Not a hostage. Not bait.
She was here by choice.
Kabir's jaw tightened.
This wasn't part of the plan.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Instinct kicked in.
Kabir stepped back immediately, retreating to his car, opening the door just enough to slip inside. He leaned forward, lowering his head, hiding his face in the shadows as his eyes followed her through the windshield.
Then- ridiculously-
She started singing.
Kabir frowned.
What the....
He couldn't hear the words clearly, but the situation made no sense. His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
The girl shifted slightly, light catching her face for a split second.
His heart skipped..
Kabir leaned forward, trying to see her properly-
But before he could, she turned around. Walked back. Got into a car.
And left.
The engine sound faded quickly.
Kabir stared at the empty space she'd occupied, irritation crawling under his skin.
Who was she? And why did she look like...
Before the thought could finish, the second man- the one standing away- also turned and walked off in another direction.
Kabir's focus snapped back.
Okay. That confirms it.
The man still standing there must be his contact.
Kabir stepped out of the car again, this time walking straight toward him.
The man turned, eyes scanning Kabir quickly, measuring him.
"Code?" the man asked abruptly.
Kabir blinked.
"...What Code?"
The man frowned slightly. "Sing."
Kabir stared at him.
What kind of bullshit is this?
But he didn't react outwardly. These men were unpredictable. Better to play along.
"Which song?" Kabir asked flatly.
The man tilted his head. "You don't know?"
Kabir's jaw tightened. Unprofessional. Still, he said calmly, "Just say it."
The man shrugged. "Ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga..."
Kabir's lips pressed into a thin line.
This is a joke.
But he completed it anyway.
"...Jaise khilta gulab," Kabir said, voice cold.
The man's shoulders relaxed slightly, as if satisfied.
Kabir cut him off immediately, pulling out the money and handing it over. "Enough. You know what you have to do."
The man checked the bag, eyes lighting up briefly.
"No mistakes," Kabir added sharply. "No Raichand blood. Not a single drop. Otherwise this will be your last job."
The man nodded. "Understood."
Kabir leaned in just enough to make his threat unmistakable.
"You will get the location and venue soon. Wait for my call."
The man smiled faintly. "As you wish."
Kabir straightened, disgust flickering across his face.
Without another word, he turned around, walked back to his car, and drove away.
Yet as the warehouse disappeared behind him, his mind wasn't on the deal.
It was on the girl.
The way she'd looked.
The way she'd sung.
The strange, unsettling feeling that he'd just crossed paths with something or someone-he was never meant to.
And far away, two plans- one fake, one lethal- continued moving toward the same inevitable collision.