The thud outside sent a ripple of tension through the room. Every breath was measured, every movement deliberate. Satya pressed his back against the cold wall, gripping the documents as though they might disappear.
Aryan motioned for silence, creeping toward the window. A shadow loomed just beyond the gate, flickering under the dim streetlamp. The figure hesitated, then moved closer.
A faint knock. Three soft raps.
Not the forceful intrusion of an enemy—but a signal.
Satya exchanged glances with Saanvi, then stepped forward cautiously. "Who is it?"
A hoarse voice replied, just loud enough to hear.
"Samar."
Relief flooded the group as Virendra unlatched the door, pulling the historian inside. He looked pale, his clothes disheveled. A thin gash marred his temple, blood seeping into his collar.
Saanvi gasped. "You're hurt!"
"I've had worse," Samar muttered, shutting the door behind him. His eyes darted around the room before settling on the scattered documents. He exhaled sharply. "Good. You got them."
Satya helped him sit. "What happened?"
Samar winced, dabbing at his wound with a handkerchief. "They were waiting for me the moment you left. I led them away, lost them near the market, then doubled back. But they won't give up." His gaze turned serious. "You need to know—this isn't just about Veer Meghawal anymore."
Aryan's expression hardened. "What do you mean?"
Samar pulled a crumpled paper from his coat and spread it on the table. The ink was smeared, but the message was unmistakable.
A bounty. For them.
Satya's stomach clenched as he read the words:
"Bring them in. Dead or alive."
Silence fell over the room.
Virendra swore under his breath. "They've stopped hiding."
Samar nodded. "Whoever is behind this has power, resources… and no intention of letting you walk away." He gestured to the documents. "You just uncovered something they've kept buried for centuries. Devarath Singh Rathore wasn't just involved—he orchestrated Veer's death. And his descendants are still protecting his legacy."
Saanvi paled. "His descendants?"
Samar's voice was grim. "One of them is alive. And he's the one pulling the strings."
A chill settled over the room.
Satya clenched his jaw. "Who?"
Samar hesitated before whispering the name.
"Jayant Singh Rathore."
The weight of those words filled the room like a storm about to break.
Saanvi's fingers tightened around the edges of the parchment. "We have to stop him."
Aryan shook his head. "You don't just stop a Rathore. Especially one with blood on his hands."
Satya's pulse pounded. Jayant knew about Veer. He knew about them. And now, he was coming.