Chapter 10
Ayesha’s breaths came rough.
Clutching her camera like a lifeline, she darts toward the backside boundary. Her heart thunders as she reaches a cluster of tall grass near a crumbling wall.
I need to swap the reels.
Her fingers work frantically, shaking as she takes the film reel from the camera. This reel, the real evidence, has to survive.
Suddenly, a faint rustle behind her makes her blood run cold. Ashwin’s men’s voices grow louder, their flashlights slicing through the darkness.
“Over here!” one of them shouts.
Panic surges through her, but she forces herself to stay focused. Grabbing the duplicate reel, she jams it clumsily into the camera. Her heart pounds as she hears footsteps crunching closer.
The real reel slips from her bag in haste, landing amidst the tangled grass. Unaware of her mistake, Ayesha zips the bag shut, clutching the camera tightly.
Ayesha ducks inside the abandoned building, her legs burning from running. The suffocating air is thick with mildew, and every breath feels like a betrayal. Her back hits the cracked wall as she tries to steady herself, gripping her camera with white-knuckled hands. Her mind screams one thought—Don’t let them catch you.
Moments later, Ashwin steps into the room, his silhouette with a faint glow outside. His eyes lock onto her instantly, the intensity in his gaze like a predator toying with its prey.
“You’re only making this harder for yourself,” he says, his voice deceptively calm but laced with menace.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Ayesha forces her voice to steady, though her chest still heaves. “Stay back.”
He doesn’t stop, his footsteps echoing ominously in the space. “You’ve caused enough trouble already. Just hand it over, and I might consider being merciful.”
“You’ll have to take it from me,” she shoots back, surprising herself with the edge in her tone.
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of Ashwin’s lips, a mixture of amusement and challenge. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He lunges, faster than she anticipates. Ayesha twists, grabbing a loose brick from the floor. She hurls it with all her strength at a nearby window. The glass explodes in a shower of shards, the sound ricocheting through the room.
The momentary distraction gives her an opening. She ducks under his outstretched arm and darts toward the broken window, her boots crunching over the debris.
Outside, she stumbles, pain shooting up her leg as she lands awkwardly. Forcing herself upright, she sprints into the chaos of Mumbai’s streets. Crowds, blaring horns, and the tangled web of alleyways swallow her whole.
Ashwin stands at the shattered window, his hands braced against the frame as he watches her disappear. His jaw tightens. She’s slippery, clever even. But his sharp gaze flicks down to the camera reel nestled among the tall grass. She’s made a mistake.
Scooping it up, he pockets the evidence, his eyes dark with determination.
Ayesha's mind races. The bag with the evidence and the camera, which she somehow managed to protect, presses against her chest as she fumbles while running.
She convinces herself she’s safe for now, but she has no idea the camera reel is empty and both reels lie abandoned, waiting to be found.
Hours later, Ashwin sits in his private office, with the film developed and spread out before him. His fingers tighten as he flips through the photos—children playing cricket, stray dogs lounging, vendors arranging wares.
This doesn’t make sense.
“She’s hiding something,” he mutters, his jaw tightening.
Meanwhile, Ayesha collapses on the cold floor at her home, her breaths heaving as she clutches her bag. She opens it to check the reel—only to find it gone. She pulls over the camera for the other reel. But alas! it is empty. Her stomach sinks as realization dawns.
She’s lost both reels.
Ashwin has nothing, and neither does she.
Who won?
Who lost?
Neither of them knows the answer. Yet the game they’re playing is far from over.
