The door flew open, and Vikram burst into the room, his gun drawn, followed by three heavily armed guards. They flooded the room, flashlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating the chaos.
They saw the shattered wardrobe. They saw the blood on the floor.
And then, the flashlights hit us.
I was on my knees, sobbing hysterically, my red sari soaked in blood, clutching the wheels of the chair. Arnav sat there, his head slumped back, his eyes closed, his shirt torn open to reveal a bleeding, vicious stab wound to his chest, looking entirely like a helpless, paralyzed victim who had been brutally assaulted in his own seat.
“Oh my god! Sir!” Vikram shouted, rushing forward. “Secure the perimeter! Call the medical team now!“
Two guards rushed to Arnav, while Vikram knelt beside me, his hands on my shaking shoulders. “Ma’am! What happened? Who did this?!“
I forced the tears to stream down my face, letting out a primal, terrified shriek. “A man… a man came through the window! He had a knife! He… he tried to kill Arnav! He stabbed him!“
“Where is he?!” Vikram demanded, his eyes scanning the room.
I was about to point toward the balcony to create a fake escape route, when suddenly, a faint, metallic clink sounded from behind the velvet curtains just a few feet away.
