Chapter Seventeen: The Edge of Darkness

The night had settled over the city like a thick, suffocating shroud by the time Tara and Abhay slipped out of the warehouse. The streets were eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog. Every step felt heavier, burdened by the weight of uncertainty.

Abhay moved ahead, his movements precise and calculated, scanning every shadow, every rooftop. Tara followed, her senses on high alert. The uneasy silence of the city gnawed at her nerves. It was too quiet.

"Where to now?" she whispered.

Abhay didn't answer immediately. He led her through a narrow alley, pausing at the corner before glancing over his shoulder. "There's an old safe house two blocks from here. If it’s still standing, we can regroup there."

Tara nodded and fell into step beside him. Their footsteps barely made a sound against the cracked pavement, but she still felt exposed. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

Halfway down the street, Abhay stopped so abruptly that Tara nearly crashed into him. His posture had gone rigid again, his head tilting slightly as if listening.

Then she heard it too.

A soft scuff of a shoe against concrete.

They weren’t alone.

Abhay grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the shadows of a doorway just as a figure emerged from the other end of the street. Dressed in dark clothing, their face obscured, the figure moved with purpose, scanning their surroundings.

Tara’s breath hitched.

Abhay’s grip on her wrist tightened. "Stay quiet," he mouthed.

The figure paused, turning its head ever so slightly. The streetlamp flickered above, casting an eerie glow on the stranger’s profile.

Tara’s stomach twisted. She recognized that stance, that deliberate stillness.

Rohan.

Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would give them away.

She hadn’t seen him in years, but there was no mistaking him. He was taller, leaner, but the way he held himself—the sharp alertness in his posture—was the same.

Abhay must have sensed her reaction because he shot her a questioning glance. She barely had time to shake her head before Rohan’s voice cut through the silence.

"You can come out now."

Tara’s blood ran cold.

Abhay’s muscles tensed, but he didn’t move.

Rohan took a slow step forward, his hands in his pockets, his tone almost casual. "I know you’re there."

Tara’s mind raced. Had he seen them? Or was he bluffing?

Abhay exhaled sharply. Decision made.

He stepped forward, keeping his hands loose at his sides, but Tara could see the tension coiled in his frame. She hesitated for only a second before following him out of the shadows.

Rohan’s gaze landed on her first, and for the briefest moment, something flickered across his face—shock? Recognition?

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"I knew it," he murmured, his eyes narrowing. "Tara."

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Rohan."

Beside her, Abhay’s stance shifted subtly—protective, ready.

Rohan’s eyes flicked to him, assessing. "And you must be the one she’s been running with."

Abhay said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Rohan tilted his head slightly. "You know, I almost didn’t believe it when they told me you were still alive. But here you are." His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "After all this time."

Tara’s hands clenched into fists. "What do you want?"

Rohan took another step closer, and for the first time, his expression hardened. "You know exactly what I want."

A chill crawled down her spine.

Abhay took a half-step in front of her, his voice low. "If you’re here to take her, you’re going to have to go through me first."

Rohan didn’t even flinch. "I was hoping you’d say that."

And then, before Tara could react, he moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

The fight had begun.

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