Chapter 40
FORTY
Viraj
“Why, Lakshit?”
The words ring over and over again. My brain unable to process them as they come. From a woman I thought I had finally fallen for.
Greesha was someone who shared my lifestyle and held it at a greater level than our previous ones. She knew me in a way I hadn’t realized I wanted to be known. Be seen.
But it was all crashing down, wasn’t it?
The moment her little tryst came back in her life.
But that wasn’t my focus. It was how she called me Lakshit. A name I had buried decades ago. Something out of a life that was best forgotten—erased.
Greesha calling me Lakshit was blindsiding me with something I had willfully forgotten.
“Why, Lakshit?”
No one had called me by that name in a very, very long time. Not since...
“W-Why, Lakshit?” Her whimpers bled into my head. “Please just tell me why!”
The moments of grief were far and few between. My life had been a bloody catalogue of deaths that I witnessed—without actually letting them scar me. It was a life I chose when I turned twenty. A life my father would’ve admired—respected.
He was dead, so what did it matter?
But when her cries started to become louder than my determinant screams, I gave up. I... became Viraj. And left Lakshit promptly behind.
“Laksh... please,” she sniffled. “I—”
At twenty-two, I abandoned a life I thought I’d been building with her... Niyati.
“Please just. Tell me why you need to go when you said—you said the last assignment was your final one,” she wailed. Tears streaking her beautiful face.
But she didn’t get it, did she?
That my life wasn’t mine. It wasn’t even my father’s. It was... my country’s. I had sought that adrenaline for more than half my life—and Niya was standing between it.
Or was she?
So when I found Greesha, I knew it in my bones that she was it. She was the one who fucking got me. Understood me.
But I think I may have miscalculated. I may have ignored the weight her past held her with. Because as she squeezes the sides of my neck.
My last thought is conflicted.
I lost her.
And I don’t know which woman I’m thinking of.
??????
“There he is!”
I hear Advik’s annoying voice as I come to. The recent warping of my mind taking a silent backseat.
I groan as I force my body up. I notice I’m still on the floor—where she left me. Fucking hell—this is embarrassing.
My rage will have to wait. But it isn’t rage that’s driving me. It’s the sense of loss. Not because this... this kid won. Because I’m starting to think I’ve been losing for more than two and a half decades.
I shake my head, shoving the thought away.
Behenchod! This isn’t the time for stupid epiphanies. I just need to get this assignment done and be out of everyone’s hair. A few weeks ago—my goal had a different outcome. Today, I’m not feeling as confident.
“Welcome back.” Greesha’s toneless voice hits me.
My body aches as I shift. I’m pretty sure Greesha’s grip was tighter and more ruthless than it usually is during sparring. I don’t blame her.
My head bows as I take a seat next to Dev on the couch. My eyes flitting about with embarrassment of the situation. I hadn’t expected to have an audience waiting for me when I willingly slipped into the dreaded darkness.
“Care to share your plan?” Advik asks, his demeanor a thousand times lighter than before. I don’t know why I hate this kid. He’s... nice. Loyal to his job. Probably even actually loves Greesha.
It was precisely the reason I asked GenVault’s CEO to put him on this assignment. But I’m starting to think it was an inadvertent test to see if I really ever had Greesha.
“I only got the tail-end of your plan. But I need to know how to prepare Madani Academy as the bait,” Dev chimes in.
Guilt hits hard. It’s not that I don’t care about the kids. I do. I was just blinded with this mission since I failed to take Mohan Bedi’s operations down—Mehul’s brother.
“Yeah...” I rasp, my throat clogging up. “I’ve steered Mehul and his team to keep an eye out for... someone from GenVault to out him. It was easy when they realized that their latest shipment got caught.”
I keep my head uncharacteristically down, but I can still feel Greesha’s glare. I know what she’s thinking. That I planned this without her knowledge. I can’t even refute her anger anymore. I used the circumstances to keep her—not knowing I never fucking had her.
“And how long have you been... steering them in that direction?” Her voice is sharp, rigid.
I clear my throat. “About two weeks. When their shipment got caught. I made sure they suspected that some federal agency had an eye on them. When I overheard Mehul mention his previous run-ins with the CBI—I whipped up the plan.”
I discreetly wince as the words leave my mouth. The coldness of them.
“And what’s happening tomorrow?” I hear Dev ask—sitting right next to me.
“I arranged for a meeting with Anil Khurana—CBI—at the rooftop of Recycle Cafe in Hauz Khas. Open area. Busy...”
I finally look up and lock my eyes on Advik.
“I’ve got three covert marksmen circling the area today and tomorrow.
Aadya will be close range—disguised. I’ll be with Mehul in his compound.
He has had two armed men on you, Advik. So far they’ve failed to locate you when you leave this apartment because we’ve been on top of that.
So yes. I’m positive they’ll catch you meeting with Anil. ”
Advik sighs, fidgeting mindlessly with his phone. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“But why—”
Dev’s voice is cut off sharply by Greesha. “You’ve been busy.”
I finally meet her narrowed eyes. She’s leaning forward, elbows on her knees. Watching me. Studying me with her calm, yet deadly gaze. It was something I always loved about her. Her fierceness. But ever since we took on this assignment, that gaze unnerves me more each day.
“Yep,” I say steadily. Nothing I say will undo the fact that this plan is sound yet dangerous.
Dev clears his throat. “I need to ask something. Why are we having Advik shoulder this trap and not me? I’m the one Mehul has been working with ever since Advik got shot.”
I watch Greesha wince subtly. My heart sinks at her reaction to even someone mentioning the shooting. God! I’ve been willfully blind.
“Because Mehul already distrusts me,” Advik tells him, shrugging lightly. “He probably already thinks I’m cooking something up since I got taken off the project.”
“I can confirm that,” I add.
Dev nods thoughtfully. “I get that... but... wouldn’t it make sense if I do it? Because I’m the one who knows every single breach of our systems? Advik hasn’t had access for more than a month.”
I stiffen. Greesha remains silent but I catch the flicker in her jaw. Dev’s not wrong. But this is exactly why I designed the plan the way I did. Because baiting a lion with a half-eaten steak is safer for us than offering him the fresh one.
Risking Dev opens up too many complications—both personal and mission-critical. He’s still under Mehul’s radar, sure, but hasn’t been labeled a threat yet.
Advik, though? He’s already declared himself by siding with the woman who was once his bodyguard. The same woman he believes plotted Mehul’s assassination early on.
“Listen...” Advik says carefully. “I understand the risks. But Dev... you’ll be forced to leak pertinent information about Mehul’s attacks.
That’s a bigger target on your back. While me?
I will only share suspicious activity that isn’t fully backed by evidence.
Like... the Sunrise Home issues. Khushi Joshi case. Enough to shake up Mehul.”
“And we need solid evidence of his ties with the trafficking rings,” I add. “With what we have... we can’t properly pin it on him. Those rings don’t have a slick of his name on them... yet. With his attack on Madani Academy, we can finally indict him. Tie up the loose ends.”
Advik nods solemnly. Dev mirrors the gesture.
And in that moment, I realize this plan—this so-called genius strategy—is ripping me apart.
Because somewhere, I thought doing the right thing would get me closer to Greesha.
Now? It’s finally pushed her away.
Fuck it.
I level Advik with a hardened gaze. “Tomorrow. 11 a.m. Recycle Café. Take your own car. I’ll text you the route to follow.”
I rise from the couch and leave without another word.
The loss of Greesha hurts.
But what’s worse—what’s gutting me from the inside out—isn’t just losing her. It’s the unraveling of me.
Because who the hell even knows me anymore?
Who sees past the calculated moves, the drive for justice, the missions, the constant thirst for adrenaline?
Maybe no one ever did. Maybe I never let them.
But maybe...
I don’t understand myself anymore either.
Because I’ve boxed myself into these neat, sharp categories. Soldier. Strategist. Savior.
And right now?
I feel like a ghost inside them.
A man who lost two women—one who he thought didn’t understand him. One who did, but didn’t find him enough.
And it pulls the last thread of who I thought I was.