CHAPTER 57! UNMASKED #3
Industrial zip-ties bit into his wrists, pinning them flat against the iron frame. His uniform was torn, his jaw swollen, and dried blood crusted over his eye.
The heavy steel door swung inward.
Aryav entered without a coat. His black shirt was fitted, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He dragged a second chair forward, the metal legs scraping harshly across the floor, and sat directly in front of the Commissioner.
He pulled out a silver lighter, lit a dark clove cigarette, and took a slow draw.
"Thirty-two years in uniform," Aryav said quietly, looking at the medals pinned to the ruined shirt. "You spent most of them convincing people you were honorable."
The Commissioner spat blood onto the floor. "You already know everything."
"I asked what it cost."
"You took my son," the Commissioner said, his voice raw with hatred.
"So you targeted Kashvi."
"The truck wasn't meant for her," the Commissioner sneered.
"She made her own choice."
"Then who?" Aryav asked softly.
"Your son."
Aryav took a slow drag of his cigarette. He said nothing.
The silence in the basement stretched, heavy and suffocating. The fluorescent light flickered overhead.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
The Commissioner shifted uncomfortably under the unblinking glare.
The silence in the basement turned absolute.
Aryav's cigarette paused between his fingers, smoke rising in a slow, thin line.
"My son made a mistake!" the Commissioner snarled, thrashing against the bindings until the chair rattled violently against the concrete.
"Boys with power make mistakes!"
Aryav looked at him.
"She was fifteen."
"The law believes whatever survives the paperwork!"
"She was fifteen."
"He was my blood," the man whispered, his eyes wide with venom. "I'd protect him every time."
"And that is why he became a monster."
"I wanted you to lose what I lost!"
Aryav exhaled a plume of smoke, letting the gray haze settle between them. "Why involve the photographer? Why involve Aadhira?"
"I wanted to make your wife doubt you. When she came to me for your arrest months ago, I made her believe you were capable of hurting anyone. And than I made her believed you caused the accident because I showed her what you did to my son. I thought I'd finally won."
"You should have killed me when I was arrested."
"I didn't want to kill you. I wanted to destroy your family. That's why I manipulated your wife from the start. That's why I arrest you."
Aryav said nothing. He simply leaned back, watching the man burn through his own breath.
"You didn't arrest me," Aryav finally said, his voice deathly calm. "I let you do that."
The Commissioner frowned.
"She wanted the law," Aryav continued. "So I gave her the law. I let her believe you could be trusted."
He held the man's gaze.
"There is a difference between arresting a man and letting him believe he has won."
The Commissioner froze.
"You... you waited."
"I always do."
Aryav stood up slowly. "You were intelligent enough to build the trap. You simply weren't intelligent enough to recognize who you built it for."
The heavy steel door slid open again with a low metallic whine.
Vivaan stepped into the light, carrying a heavy carbon-fiber case.
He walked past Aryav without a word, crouched on the concrete, and unlatched the locks.
Click.
Click.
Silence settled back over the room. The Commissioner watched, his breathing becoming shallow.
Vivaan opened the lid.
He didn't reach inside.
He simply stepped back.
A sound came from inside the case.
Soft.
A rhythmic, dry friction against the velvet lining.
The Commissioner stopped breathing. Color drained from his face.
First, two cold, slit-pupiled yellow eyes emerged from the shadows. Then, a thick, black-scaled head slowly rose into the dull fluorescent light, tilting slightly as it fixed its gaze on the bound man.
"No..." the Commissioner gasped, his voice breaking into a dry rattle.
He knew that snake. Vyom.
"Wait... please," the Commissioner stammered, thrashing violently against the steel chair until metal groaned.
"Aryav, we can talk! Everyone is alive... I deserve to live too!"
Vivaan looked down at him. "You wanted her dead. Now you're afraid of dying."
"Shoot me than!" the man screamed, hyperventilating as the dark coils began to spill over the edge of the case onto the cold floor. "Aryav, just shoot me!"
Aryav turned toward the exit. "Make it look like an accident."
"It will."
Aryav paused at the door. "Then let the city believe what it wants."
He stepped outside.
Behind him, the heavy iron door slammed shut. A muffled scream tore through the thick metal, then abruptly cut out.
Aryav stood alone in the dark corridor.
He pulled out another cigarette and lit it. The flame caught, illuminating his sharp features.
He inhaled slowly.
Aadhira.
Her frightened eyes.
Her trembling fingers.
The way she held onto him without realizing she was doing it.
He had spent his entire life believing obsession was weakness.
Now he understood the truth.
He wasn't afraid of losing control because of Aadhira.
He was afraid of what he would become if anyone took her from him.