[ 13th February 2025 | Behind Phoenix Courtyard Mall ]
The sun had climbed high, casting sharp rays between the chrome and glass facades of the city. Around the back of Phoenix Courtyard Mall, the air was cooler, the world quieter—cut off from the soft buzz of elevators and cappuccino machines inside.
This wasn't some seedy alley—just a lesser-used service path: wide, decently kept, lined with parked scooters, dented delivery doors, and the occasional faded poster curling on concrete walls.
It was the kind of place people didn't notice.
And that made it dangerous.
Vidya walked with a straight spine and deliberate strides. Her slate-blue kurti was simple, well-fitted, paired with dark jeans, a black shawl looped neatly over her shoulders, and comfortable shoes. Nothing flashy. Nothing loose enough to snag if she had to move fast.
She didn't look out of place. Her steps weren't rushed.
Just… focused.
She was headed toward the mall's ground floor café. Aria had told her to meet her there—with the twins. And her brother. Whoever that was.
It was supposed to be a normal introductory meeting.
Simple. Controlled.
But fate, as always, had its own plans.
It wasn't nerves that sat in Vidya's stomach. Not exactly.
Just unease.
The dull, quiet kind. The kind that never really left her.
She wasn't expecting trouble.
But her body never quite believed that.
Then the sound of laughter broke the silence—low and wrong.
And the kind of whistle that wasn't meant to call attention, but claim ownership.
Three silhouettes stirred at the far end of the alley.
The tall one leaned against a parked scooter like it was his throne—clean-cut, thick hair pushed back like some B-grade influencer, sunglasses perched on his head though the alley was shaded. He was chewing gum. Smiling like the city owed him something.
To his right stood a shorter guy in a sleeveless hoodie and ripped jeans. Fidgeting with a keychain, grin twitchy, eyes darting—but not scared. No, this one liked watching.
And the last—Airpods around his neck, hands deep in his pockets—was leaned against a metal roller shutter, smirking at nothing. The kind of guy who filmed his friends doing stupid stunts for views.
Theyweren't disgusting by appearance.
But the look in their eyes was pure rot.
"Oi," the tall one called, pushing off the scooter as she neared. "Where's the rush, sweetheart? Got someone waiting? "
Vidya didn't stop walking.
Keep going. Don't flinch. Don't feed them reactions.
"Oh-ho. Classy type," Hoodie Guy muttered, nudging the third.
"She's got the 'main character' walk going on," the third one snickered. "Should we ask for an autograph?"
Vidya didn't break pace. Didn't react.
But her fingers twitched once beneath the edge of her shawl.
The beast in her blood stirred.
It had taken months—years— to train her body out of the old instincts. To walk like a normal girl. To not scan every corner like a target was hiding behind it.
But still—
A quiet rage flared inside her.
And in an instant, the room—the alley, the concrete, the silence—shifted into a battlefield.
Metal rod behind the dustbin. Two steps to reach it. Three seconds to knock Scooter King's jaw sideways.
Kick Hoodie Guy in the knee. Use the loose brick near the trolley to crack open his face.
AirPods? Easy. Rusted wire poking out of that crate stack. Wrap it around his neck. Quiet. Clean. He'll choke on blood before he can call for help.
Her fingers twitched again.
She didn't want to hurt them.
She wanted to kill them.
Fast. Final. With no apologies.
Because that's how she was trained—never to wound, never to warn.
Just... End.
And part of her still itched for the satisfaction. For the silence after the screams.
But she exhaled slowly.
No.
Not here.
Not today.
Today, she was Vidya.
Not a shadow in the dark. Not a phantom whisper in someone's fear.
Just a girl walking to a café.
The mall is just ahead. Just a little further.
She moved to step past them.
"Hey, we're just talking," Scooter guy said, stepping into her path. He raised both hands in mock surrender. "Don't be so cold, sweetheart. At least smile."
Vidya stopped.
Her voice was flat, clear. "Move."
He grinned wider. "At least give me your name. You're walking through my alley, after all."
I'll bury you under it, her mind whispered.
The shortest one clicked his tongue. "No need to be so rude. We're just being friendly."
"Exactly," the tall one said, stepping closer. "You act like we're gonna hurt you. We're good guys."
Her eyes met his. Unblinking. Calm.
"I'm not."
That stopped him.
Hoodie Guy gave a low whistle. "She's got fire. You like fire, Rahul?"
"I love it," Rahul replied, reaching lazily—fingertips brushing her wrist.
Wrong move.
Her hand snapped up, fast as a strike, locking onto his wrist.
Her thumb pressed hard into the nerve beneath his thumb, twisting the joint with practiced, ruthless precision.
Not enough to break.
Just enough to terrify.
His smirk vanished in a blink. "Ow—hey—what the hell?"
"I said move," she murmured.
And gods, how she wanted to finish it.
Break the arm. Jab the sharp corner of that broken crate through his ribs. Wrap her shawl around the Hoodie guy's neck and slam his head against the wall. The Airpods guy looked the type to run. But she won't let him.
She would kill them and drag their bodies behind the shutter and stack them like firewood.
Forget she was ever here.
And silence.
But she loosened her grip.
Because she wasn't that anymore.
Not entirely.
Not unless she had to be.
The tension coiled—too tight, too near the edge—waiting to snap.
And then—
"Hey! That's enough!"
A new voice rang out—light, confident, and sharp enough to slice tension in half.
Everyone turned.
At the entrance stood a boy. Barely twenty. Tallish. lean.
Messy hair, a white tee under a leather jacket, hands in his pockets, and the kind of grin that made you wonder if he was serious or completely insane.
He was walking like he had no idea what fear was—or maybe just didn't believe in it.
He didn't look threatening. Not cautious.
Just... unfazed.
Like trouble dressed as comedy.
He strolled in like the ground was his.
And somehow, everyone was looking at him now—even Vidya.
Who the hell is that?