You know I don't believe in ghosts or

Letting people close

I'm good at letting go

-'Living hell' by Bella Poarch.

The Range Rover rolls to a stop in the exclusive parking lot of The Black Out, its sleek black frame swallowing the neon chaos of Mumbai's elite district.

The air hums with anticipation, thick and heavy, pressing against my skin like a silent warning. I've felt it before-too many times to count. But tonight, something is different.

Music thrums from inside the club, a deep, pulsing bass that seeps into bone and blood alike. The Black Out is alive, as always-a place that promises indulgence, anonymity, and secrets wrapped in silk and sin.

I tap my fingers against my thigh, exhaling slowly. This isn't just the usual tension that lingers in the air like expensive perfume. It's sharper, unsettled, coiling beneath my ribs.

The Black Out sits in the heart of downtown Mumbai, a playground for the rich, the corrupt, and the ones with a stick so far up their asses they'd choke on it if they bent the wrong way. To them, this club is luxury, exclusivity, the pinnacle of high society. If only they knew what lurked behind closed doors.

Tonight is one of those nights.

The Night of Mischief.

An elaborate masquerade, a spectacle for the wealthy-another excuse to drink, dance, and indulge in desires they wouldn't dare speak of in daylight. But beneath the shimmer and spectacle, another world breathes.

A world of killers.

The SINS.

An assassin organization that has been our home for as long as we can remember. They took us in when we were nothing-just desperate street kids running for our lives, seeking shelter, a chance to survive.

That was then. This is now.

We've clawed our way up from lowly foot soldiers to standing on the fringes of power. Technically, only Vikram is part of the inner circle, the ones who truly hold control. But we've been a team since the beginning, and no meeting, no title, will ever change that.

The inner circle meets tonight. That much was expected-Vikram always attends these gatherings. But this time, something shifted.

A black envelope arrived.

And it carried a second name.

Jason.

Jason doesn't ask questions. He just shows up. That's his way-quiet, watchful, always five steps ahead.

In our line of work, if the inner circle summons you, you don't decline. You don't hesitate. You comply.

With Vikram and Jason required to attend, the rest of us had no real reason to stay behind. And Sid? Well, he never needed an excuse.

"I'll be bored alone," he had said, stretching with a lazy grin, as if this was just another night. "Besides, bodyguard duty doesn't sound bad to me."

Not that Stephanie and I need a bodyguard.

If people knew what we've been doing since adolescence, they'd keep a ten-foot radius at all times.

Stephanie never misses these parties. She claims she's here for fun-the drinking, the dancing, the anonymity. But I know better.

She's here for one reason.

D.

Her personal salvation. Or obsession.

D is untouchable. A ghost within our organization. Infamous. Enigmatic. Always just out of reach. But that doesn't stop Stephanie from chasing. From needing. And I can't shake the feeling that it's consuming her from the inside out.

The Black Out's entrance is guarded, but the moment we approach, the security stiffens. Not because of me. Not because of Stephanie.

Because of Sid.

His usual lazy smirk is gone, replaced by something unreadable. A single glance from him, and the bodyguard lowers his gaze, chin dipping downward as if by instinct. Sid doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to.

Vikram takes the back entrance as usual leading to the infamous basement of the club-the real reason this place exists. Down there, beneath the blazing music and false decadence, deals are made, alliances forged, information is exchanged and people disappear.

But this time, Jason follows him.

Dressed in a black hoodie, his expression remains unreadable, disinterest written in every line of his body. But I know better. Jason is always watching. Calculating. And if he was summoned tonight, it means something is shifting.

A change is coming.

And in our world, change is rarely good.

The moment we step inside, the club swallows us whole.

The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and expensive cologne. Bodies move like liquid, pressed together, twisting, swaying to the relentless rhythm of the music. Blue and purple lights flash in chaotic pulses, illuminating the sea of masked strangers, each one draped in mystery and indulgence.

Stephanie's eyes sweep the crowd, sharp, searching. She thinks I don't notice the way her fingers twitch, the way her breath catches when she spots a familiar silhouette-just a glimpse before he disappears into the sea of bodies.

D.

I wonder, not for the first time, when this chase will end.

Or if it ever will.

Sid is already blending into the background, his easy posture a carefully crafted lie. His eyes flick across the room, scanning, assessing-another habit ingrained in all of us.

I stand beside him, my own purpose clear.

I'm just here to make sure no one burns the place down.

But the thing about fire?

You don't always see it coming.

"Heard the boss is showing up tonight," Sid says, voice almost too casual.

It takes me a second to process his words over the pounding bass, but when I do, my head snaps toward him.

"How do you know?"

He shrugs, like it's not a big deal.

It is.

The boss is never physically present. His existence linger in shadows, his commands delivered through a laptop screen. D is the only one who has ever seen him, the only one who knows what he looks like-who he is. And that alone makes D one of the most dangerous people in this organization.

But tonight, if Sid's right, everything is different.

A tight knot forms in my stomach.

Find Stephanie.

Hoping she doesn't do something reckless and get herself killed.

I scan the room, pulse thrumming in time with the music.

I spot her perched on a barstool, four shots of tequila lined up in front of her, gaze locked on the back entrance-the same one where a certain someone just disappeared.

Not good.

I push through the crowd, Sid keeping pace beside me, fluid and effortless as ever.

Stephanie doesn't even glance my way, too lost in whatever storm is raging inside her. I don't hesitate-I grab a shot and down it before she can.

That gets her attention.

Her head snaps toward me, eyes flashing. But when she sees it's me, the sharpness fades.

I don't usually drink because it makes me giddy, and I often end up making the baddest of the bad decisions when I'm high on alcohol but it's not like I'm doing it with strangers.

The bartender turns to Sid. "What can I get you, Sir?"

Sid leans against the counter, all lazy confidence. "Water." he demands, flashing him our VIP card. Smug bastard.

The bartender lifts a curious brow. One look at Sid-tattoos snaking up his arms, a face carved from sin-and he doesn't buy it.

Sid smirks, nodding toward me and Stephanie. "Bodyguard duty tonight, mate."

Stephanie snorts, kicking him in the shin. "Yeah, because you're such a responsible guardian. Should I start calling you Father Sid now?"

Sid winces, rubbing his leg, but his grin doesn't waver. "I'd prefer Daddy."

Stephanie gags. "Die."

And then, just as I reach for my second shot, the familiar opening beat of our favorite song cuts through the air.

Stephanie's eyes light up.

"Oh, we're dancing."

Before I can argue, she grabs my wrist and yanks.

I barely manage to set the glass down before I'm being dragged onto the dance floor, the pounding bass swallowing us whole.

Steph's energy is electric, like a live wire, pulling me into her whirlwind. She jumps and twirls, dragging me along, laughing so loudly that it competes with the pulse of the music.

We sway to the music, lost in our own little world just me and her. Steph makes me do dumb stuff, but I realized early on that she doesn't do it for attention, no its quite the opposite.

There's this insatiable need inside her to do impulsive things, but she wants someone to have her back so she can be as reckless as possible, that someone is me. So, I don't complain and just comply.

After all we all have our own demons to fight.

After what feels like an eternity-maybe it's been an hour, maybe two-I realize I can barely feel my legs anymore. The music is still pounding, but my body's starting to give out.

I tap Steph on the shoulder, trying to shout over the music. "I'm out! Find me beside Sid!" I practically have to yell in her ear for her to hear, but she nods with a mischievous smile as she continue her reign over the dance floor.

I make my way toward the bar, weaving through the mass of bodies that seem to be everywhere. Sid's sitting at the counter, looking like he's in no rush, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as I slide into the stool beside him.

I lean back, taking a moment to catch my breath, but my eyes stay on Steph. She's still moving with the crowd, owning every inch of that dance floor, her energy somehow only getting stronger.

I scan the crowded club, taking in my surroundings-until my gaze snags on a stranger standing on the first-floor balcony. His black mask is simple yet distinguished, adding a hint of charm to the sharp angles of his face. He leans against the railing, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that might fool most people.

But I know better.

Danger recognizes its own.

I've never found male beauty to be dangerous before-not in a way that truly unsettles me. And that says a lot, considering the people I deal with every day.

He lifts his glass in a silent salute. A gesture that feels both polite and mocking.

I incline my head in acknowledgment, my eyes tracing over him. He looks down on the crowd like they're nothing more than chess pieces on a board-his to move, his to discard.

"I have a feeling things might get a little out of hand tonight," I say, raising my voice over the pounding bass, my eyes still fixed on the man.

"Music to my ears," Sid replies, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

But when I glance back toward the balcony, the stranger is gone.

My brows knit together.

Shaking my head, I down another shot, the warmth spreading through my veins. I'm already starting to feel it.

People blur together as I watch the dance floor. The smell of sweat, deodorants and musk starts to suffocate me until I can't stand it anymore.

"I gotta go pee. Keep an eye out for Steph" I announce, pushing off my stool.

"For a quickie, I presume" he teases.

"Assh..ole" I hiccup.

"I heard that."

I throw up my middle finger-or at least, I try to.

The restroom offers a moment of reprieve, but as I step out regret settles in. Steph was supposed to be my priority tonight but here I am. My head feels too light, my steps too loose.

The semi-darkness of the room doesn't help my situation as I stumble, narrowly avoiding the fall.

I turn left expecting sitting area but come face to face with a staircase.

Bravo! Now I'm officially lost.

I whirl around, ready to retrace my steps-only to collide with something solid.

"Ouch!" I mutter, rubbing my forehead.

A low chuckle hums in the air.

Deep, dark eyes trap me in place.