Captain Rathore observed the truck, noticing that none of the recruits had stepped down, and his gaze lingered on the untrained individuals who now gripped their hands with a stronger resolve than the trained ones. It was as if something had ignited within them, an unspoken determination that made them more committed than ever before. His eyes briefly shifted to Rohit and Isha, who appeared equally puzzled by the shift in energy around them.
Rohit glanced around, his unease growing as he noticed the faces of some of the recruits. There was something eerily familiar about them, almost as if their expressions mirrored his own pain and loss. The resemblance to both his and Isha’s faces unsettled him—why did they look like shadows of his past, reflections of something long lost?
Isha, feeling the same tension, caught Rohit’s gaze, both of them silently questioning who these people were and why they seemed connected to them. Their thoughts collided as they exchanged a glance, the mystery of Project M deepening. What were they really being thrust into? What connection did these strangers have to their pasts? The weight of these unanswered questions hung heavily in the air.
The president’s bodyguard clapped, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed the unwavering determination in the recruits' eyes. Rathore exhaled, his job here is complete. With a firm nod, he turned to the bodyguard and said, “My job is done, General. It’s time for you to take care of them now.”
The bodyguard returned his gaze, his voice carrying an air of authority. “Understood. Captain Rathore, your part ends here. It’s time for you to leave.” Without another word, Rathore gave one final glance at the recruits before stepping away, his silhouette fading as he walked toward one of the waiting jeeps.
As Captain Rathore’s presence faded into the distance, Rohit instinctively glanced at Isha. For the first time, he noticed a flicker of unease in her usually composed demeanor. Rathore had been a pillar of security, and now that he was gone, an unsettling silence settled over them. Sensing her discomfort, Rohit leaned in and asked quietly, “Why do you look uneasy?”
Before Isha could respond, the president’s bodyguard stepped forward, his voice cutting through the silence. “Everyone, wear your blindfolds.”
Rohit’s gaze sharpened at the order. His instincts flared, and without thinking, he questioned, “Why do we have to wear blindfolds?”
The bodyguard turned to him, his expression unreadable. Then, with a chilling smirk, he leaned slightly forward and asked in a low, threatening voice, “Do you really want the reason?”
The weight of his words pressed down on Rohit like a blade at his throat. The murderous intent was undeniable—cold, suffocating, and deliberate. His eyes met Rohit’s, unblinking, unwavering. And then, his voice dropped to a deadly whisper.
“Do what I said. Now.”
Rohit clenched his fists. His pride screamed at him to fight back, to demand answers. But something in the bodyguard’s tone—something in the way his presence alone made the air feel heavier—warned him. This was not a man to challenge.
Before Rohit or Isha could react, the untrained people in the truck immediately followed the order, putting on their blindfolds without hesitation. Their unwavering determination made Rohit pause. Their actions weren’t driven by fear but by something deeper—something resolute.
Exchanging a brief, confused glance with Isha, Rohit hesitated for only a second before making a choice. Without a word, he reached for Isha’s hand. Their fingers tightened around each other—an unspoken reassurance in the midst of uncertainty. Together, they picked up their blindfolds and covered their eyes.
The president’s bodyguard scanned the group one last time before giving a sharp nod. "Driver, get ready. We move to the next destination." His voice carried an air of finality, leaving no room for hesitation. As the truck’s engine roared to life, the tension thickened. The untrained recruits sat rigid, their blindfolds secure, while Rohit and Isha, still grasping each other's hands, braced themselves for whatever lay ahead.
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