Central Intelligence HQ, England – 2:28 AM
The atmosphere in the HQ was suffocating—thick with tension, the kind that weighed on the chest like a vice. Alarms weren't blaring. No lights were flashing red. But everyone inside knew something was wrong.
"He's not answering."
Tara's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
She sat rigid in front of her screen, eyes scanning the still-active call log with Kiaan. It had dropped mid-sentence. Static had crackled once. Then—nothing.
Rehaan was already pacing like a live wire, phone clenched in his fist, jaw ticking.
"Try it again. Trace it. Something. Dammit, Tara, anything!"
Tara: "I've pinged the last tower. Give me two minutes—I'll get the coordinates."
Zid, quiet but alert, stood by the digital map board, dragging the tracking system toward the last known location Kiaan had sent a signal from. His fingers flew across the touchscreen, enlarging the road near the military base, the one Kiaan had parked his bike on.
Dev entered with a tablet in his hand, brows furrowed.
Dev: "Seminar attendance confirmed. Kiaan was never registered, but someone from the security log manually let him in. And that seminar? It wasn't officially scheduled by the Defence Department."
Tara spun around in her chair, eyes flashing.
Tara: "What do you mean?"
Dev: "I mean someone forged a fast seminar schedule. Just slid it in between two official ones. Smart. Clean. Like they knew how we check."
Rehaan's fist slammed into the side of the metal cabinet.
Rehaan: "He walked straight into a trap…"
The realization fell like a wave. All of them stared at the screen showing the red blinking dot—Kiaan's last signal—now frozen. No movement. No heartbeat sync. Nothing.
Zid (muttering): "He was the next target. That bastard saw him at the seminar and marked him."
Tara's hands were flying across the keyboard now, code reflecting off her glasses like firelight.
Tara: "I'm checking CCTV near the last ping. If the killer took Kiaan, there has to be a vehicle, a movement, something."
The room burst into movement. Rehaan grabbed his gear and jacket.
Rehaan: "We're heading out. Now. Zid, you're with me. Dev, keep looking into the seminar list. Tara—stay locked. Feed us live updates."
Tara: "Wait!" she yelled, her voice panicked but sharp.
Everyone turned.
She turned her screen—zoomed in on the final frame before Kiaan's signal went dead.
There he was—Kiaan standing beside his parked bike, hand to his ear, talking to her. But just behind him—
A shadow.
No face. No defining shape. But it moved fast—too fast—and then the feed cut out.
Tara (softly, chilled): "He was already behind him…"
A cold silence gripped the room.
Zid (dead serious): "If he's alive… we don't have long."
Rehaan: "He's alive. It's Kiaan. But if that psycho even touches him—"
Tara (interrupting, focused): "Coordinates locked. Sending location to your comms. You've got 11 square miles to search. I'm narrowing it."
Dev: "I'll cross-check suspended military officers in the last 3 years. Only someone with that clearance could manipulate a base like that."
As Rehaan and Zid stormed out, gears spinning at full throttle, Tara looked back at the blinking map, whispering under her breath:
Tara (softly): "Hold on, Kiaan. We're coming."