CHAPTER LXXI
The police station was unusually silent when the head officers came to meet me. Their expressions were grim, shoulders heavy with the burden of recent events. One of them, a man I had worked with for years, stepped forward and said quietly, "Sam, we are deeply sorry for your loss. We know your wedding was just around the corner… and now Hannah is gone."
His words pierced through me like glass. I tried to stay composed, but inside, my heart clenched. I could barely process it myself.
But what he said next demanded my full attention.
"More than that, Sam, we are devastated to inform you that we've lost two of our own. Two dedicated officers — gone. And two more, Anamika and Malvika, are still missing. We believe they've been captured by the same trafficking gang we've been trying to shut down."
I looked up sharply. "Captured? Are you sure they're still alive?"
Another officer nodded gravely. "Yes. But we don't know for how long. Sam, if these girls are transported out of India, we may never get them back. And if that happens — it won't just be a failure of the system. It'll be a slap to the face of every girl in this country who believes that if she dials 100 at midnight, the police will come."
The room fell silent.
Their words settled into my bones like ice. I wanted to mourn Hannah — her laughter, her strength, her sacrifice — but this wasn't the time. Somewhere out there, two officers were still waiting. Somewhere, Mon's name echoed inside me like a warning, like a prayer.
I stood up, my voice firm despite the storm inside me. "Sir, I won't let this happen. Give me whatever team I need. I will find them. I promise."
Without hesitation, a special task force was assigned to me. I wasted no time. We dived straight into the investigation, cross-checking every clue, every thread. And then something strange emerged — a name that kept circling back: Jatin.
Mon's fiancé.
The man she was supposed to marry.
But Jatin had disappeared ever since Mon went missing. And oddly enough, no one had seen or heard from him after Hannah's death either. Something didn't sit right.
When we reached out to Jatin's family, what they told us chilled us to the core — they refused to identify the man Mon had been engaged to. According to them, the person posing as "Jatin" was a stranger. An imposter.
Which could only mean one thing: the real Jatin either never made it into Mon's life… or worse, he was already dead.
I felt sick. Mon had been engaged to a fraud. The man she thought would build a life with her wasn't even who he claimed to be. She had been living with a ghost wearing another man's name.
Desperate for more answers, I went to Ashwin — one of Mon's trusted friends. When I asked him about the connection, he hesitated at first. But finally, with guilt written all over his face, he confessed.
He told us that it was he who had introduced the man posing as Jatin to Mon's family. They had trusted Ashwin implicitly, and because of that trust, no one had bothered to verify the man's identity. No background checks, no questions. Just blind faith.
"And Mon?" I asked.
Ashwin's voice was low. "She barely looked at him. She didn't want to marry… not really. She was distant, detached. She never cared to ask who he truly was."
My heart broke a little more. Mon — my Mon — had unknowingly handed her life over to a stranger because she didn't have the strength to fight the pressure around her.
We continued the investigation and traced the fake Jatin's activity to a private hospital known to us for some shady dealings. There, we got our breakthrough.
A senior doctor, now under suspicion for running an illegal kidney racket, recognized the imposter immediately.
"That's not Jatin," he confirmed. "His real name is Ashfak. And he's not working alone. He's part of a massive underground network. Human trafficking, organ trade — he's in deep. And he's got powerful people protecting him."
My blood ran cold.
Ashfak had infiltrated Mon's life with deadly precision. He wasn't just a conman. He was a monster — and Mon had been living under the same roof with him, trusting him, perhaps even confiding in him, all while he planned her destruction.
And now she was missing.
Along with Anamika. Along with Malvika.
I clenched my fists.
I didn't know if Mon was still alive. But if she was — if even a flicker of her existed somewhere in this twisted nightmare — I was going to find her.
For Hannah. For those girls. For every woman whose voice had been ignored.
This wasn't just a mission anymore.
This was war.
Our investigation was accelerating — faster than anyone had expected. And then… a name surfaced. A name that shifted the entire weight of the case.
Prabhakar Singh.
An MLA. A man with influence, connections, and power. The kind of man who thought he was untouchable. But not today.
We had received direct orders — no politics, no permissions, no waiting. We had the full green light to do whatever it took. So, we didn't hesitate. We stormed into his residence and pulled him out, dragging him straight to the interrogation room of the police station.
No press. No publicity. Just rage.
There was no time for courtesy. Time was something we didn't have. Two officers — Anamika and Malvika — were still missing, and every passing second could be the difference between life and death… between rescue and ruin.
We began the interrogation. But Prabhakar was arrogant at first, laughing at our questions, brushing off our threats.
Until we broke him.
And when we did, the truth spilled out like poison.
"Yes," he muttered, his face pale with sweat. "The man you know as Jatin is actually Ashfak. His real name is Ashfak Jess. He's working with an international buyer… a man named Rechard."
I stared at him. "Where are the girls?"
Prabhakar hesitated.
I slammed my fist on the table. "WHERE?!"
He flinched, then said, trembling, "He's taking them to Rechard today. Rechard… Rechard is flying them to Dubai tomorrow. From there, the girls will be scattered… sold into different countries. You'll never find them after that."
My throat tightened.
Anamika. Malvika. Mon.
This was our last chance.
I leaned forward, my voice like ice. "Where is Ashfak now?"
Prabhakar swallowed hard. "At… at the port. He's at the docks right now, finalizing the handoff."
Everything inside me snapped to attention.
I stood up instantly, barking orders.
"Red alert. NOW! Lock down every major road, every route toward the coastal area. I want every checkpoint active. No vehicle passes without clearance. This city moves for no one until we stop that transport."
Our entire force sprang into action.
Sirens screamed to life. Lights flashed. Orders were relayed through walkies and phones. The city — usually chaotic, crowded, and full of sound — was brought to a halt in under fifteen minutes.
Barricades were placed. Roads were sealed. Even the highways were frozen in time.
Because tonight… this wasn't about just saving officers.
It was about saving hope.
About sending a message to every frightened girl hiding in a corner of her world — that even if the night is dark, someone is out there, fighting for her. That even if the world has failed her once, this time, it will not.
As we raced toward the docks, engines roaring, wind slicing against the windows, I kept my hand on my badge and my eyes fixed on the rising tension in my chest.
Ashfak wasn't going to get away.
Not this time.
Not with our girls.
To be continue....