CHAPTER LXVIII
The Setup and the Storm
By now, Hannah's profile on the Awk website had exploded with activity. The algorithm had done its job — she looked exactly like the kind of girl that would catch the wrong kind of attention. Comments flooded in from anonymous profiles, some creepy, some coded. But we were watching everything. We were reading between the lines, waiting for the mask to slip, for the real predators to come out from the shadows. It was working.
Hannah was ready. She had agreed to this dangerous plan without hesitation — not because she was fearless, but because she trusted us. That trust carried a weight I could feel deep in my chest. Today, we were putting her in real danger, and the only thing standing between her and the people we were hunting… was us.
We chose Juhu Beach as the battleground. Crowded, chaotic, and always buzzing with strangers — it was the perfect place for someone to make contact and vanish. But we weren't taking chances. Our entire team was deployed, in plain clothes, hidden in the crowd. Cameras in ice cream carts, earpieces behind sunglasses, backup on every exit. Every person on that beach was being scanned, recorded, and profiled.
And in the middle of it all stood Hannah — seemingly alone, dressed in light pastels, hair tied loose like a casual beachgoer. But everything from her stance to her smile was scripted. She looked relaxed, but her eyes were alert. Brave, composed… and vulnerable. She was our decoy, but she wasn't just bait. She was a person I'd grown to admire. And deep down, I hated myself for using her like this.
The sun was beginning to dip when he arrived.
A strange old man. Wrinkled face, stooped shoulders, and a small cloth bag hanging from one hand. He walked with a limp, or maybe he faked it. He stopped several feet from Hannah and pulled out a mobile phone — then, without hesitation, he started taking photos of her.
Click.
Click.
Click.
One after another. From the left. From the right. Zoomed in. Zoomed out.
He didn't smile. Didn't look away. His focus was chillingly sharp. He didn't speak to her. He didn't even pretend to hide what he was doing. It wasn't curiosity — it was calculation.
Every instinct in me screamed he's the one.
As soon as he paused to check the images on his screen, we moved. Quick, coordinated, silent. In seconds, he was surrounded and taken into custody before anyone noticed. Not a single bystander screamed. It was clean. Too clean.
We brought him into the station, and I watched his eyes the whole time. Empty. Cold. And then, when we started asking questions — nothing. Not even a blink. He sat there like a ghost.
Anshuman lost his patience within minutes, slamming a chair back and forth, yelling in his face. Ritu tried gentle probing. Mon stood silently behind me, watching the man like she was trying to read through his skin.
Then suddenly — he reached into his bag.
Before we could stop him, he pulled out a small glass vial and drank it in one sharp gulp.
Within seconds, his body began to tremble violently, his lips turned blue, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Then — still without saying a word — he collapsed to the floor.
Dead.
"Fuck!" Anshuman shouted, slamming his fist onto the steel table so hard that everything on it jumped.
We were stunned. Speechless. Our lead — gone. Just like that.
Mon looked at me, her eyes filled with disbelief.
> "What now?"
Ritu stepped forward, arms folded tightly across her chest.
> "They've seen Hannah. She's on their radar now. They could come for her anytime."
Hannah, who had been quiet, finally spoke — her voice small, but clear.
> "But... tomorrow is my wedding. With Sam."
Her words hung in the air like a blade. My heart skipped. Her wedding. Tomorrow.
And then, like a tidal wave crashing over me, I remembered — my wedding was also tomorrow.
To Hannah.
The weight of it hit me. In the middle of this mission, I had forgotten the most personal, most irreversible step of my life. I was about to marry someone — not for love, not for dreams — but for duty. For protection. For the mission.
And with every step I would take toward that altar… I would be walking away from Mon.
Forever.
Mon looked down at the floor, her hands clenched. She didn't speak, but I could feel the storm inside her — just like the one inside me.
And then Hannah said something that shattered the room's silence:
> "I won't stop the wedding. I've told my family. I want to get married."
I looked at her. Strong. Determined. She wasn't doing this out of weakness. She was doing it because she believed this was the right thing to do — to protect herself, her loved ones, and maybe, somewhere deep down, even me.
I swallowed hard and gave her a small nod, even though my heart felt like it was being ripped apart.
> "Don't worry, Hannah," I said softly. "We're not going to ask you to cancel the wedding."
But inside, I knew — I was losing more than just a case.
I was losing Mon.
I was losing us.
The Wedding That Wasn't
It was morning — the day of our wedding.
The entire venue was decorated like a dream. The mandap was draped in marigolds and soft white fabric, glowing under the golden sunlight. The sacred fire pit, the hawan kund, was already set. Vermillion, mangalsutra, and every ritual item needed for a traditional Hindu wedding were carefully placed and ready. Everything was perfect… except me.
I stood in front of the mirror, dressed as a bride, but feeling nothing like one.
My reflection looked calm — regal even — but inside, I was in pieces. My heart wasn't with the ceremony, the guests, or the sacred chants. My heart was stuck with Mon… in that moment where I hurt her. Again.
I didn't even know how I got here — how the girl who once only believed in love had now become someone marrying for safety, for duty, for something far from her own desires.
I wanted to ask Mon for forgiveness.
I wanted to tell Hannah the truth.
But when I saw the joy in Hannah's eyes… I couldn't.
Just then, Mahi entered the room, smiling brightly.
> "Sam, Hannah's ready," she said, walking over. "You should hurry up too! The guests are waiting, and we still have to do the jaimala!"
I nodded silently, my throat dry, unable to say anything. With each passing minute, I felt like I was walking deeper into something I couldn't undo. Still, I forced a smile, adjusted my veil, and walked to the mandap.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
A few moments later, Hannah arrived — glowing, beautiful, and radiant with hope. I looked at her, then around the room. And that's when I saw him.
Jatin.
He was standing alone in the crowd. My heart sank.
If Jatin was here alone… it meant Mon didn't come.
She couldn't.
And maybe… she didn't want to.
I turned away quickly, swallowing the ache rising in my chest. The jaimala ceremony began. Hannah and I exchanged garlands, our faces captured by flashing cameras and delighted relatives. The rituals went on — the chants, the prayers, the offerings to the fire.
Everything was happening the way it should.
Until we reached the final step — the pheras.
I paused.
My feet wouldn't move.
My breath caught in my throat, and my entire world felt like it was standing still.
I turned to Hannah and whispered, my voice shaking:
> "Hannah… I can't do this."
She looked at me, and tears immediately welled in her eyes. But they weren't angry tears. They weren't filled with rage or betrayal.
They were soft, knowing, and heartbreakingly kind.
> "Do you know, Sam," she said, her voice trembling, "how long I've been crying? How long I've known the truth?"
> "You love Mon. And I… I love you."
A tear rolled down her cheek.
> "And love… love asks for sacrifice. I'm not going to ask you any questions. I'm not going to hold you back. Just go. Go find her before it's too late."
I stood frozen. My lips parted, wanting to say something — anything. Her name. A thank you. An apology. But nothing came out.
> "Hannah…" I breathed.
She gave me a gentle smile through her tears and shook her head.
> "Please, Sam. Don't make this more complicated than it already is. Just go."
And in that moment, I knew she was the braver one between us.
I had no words left. My emotions were swirling like a storm. So I did the only thing my heart begged me to — I turned around.
I left the mandap.
I stepped away from the rituals.
I walked out of the crowd, the music, the expectations.
Out of a marriage that should have never happened.
I wasn't running from Hannah.
I was running to Mon.
To the truth.
To whatever was left of us — before it was too late.
To be continue....