Authors pov
The Parisian cell wasn't built for comfort.
It smelled of rust, too-old water and bureaucratic boredom. The fluorescent lights buzzed like angry insects, painting the room in a harsh, unforgiving glow.
Three figures sat inside.
Kabir pacing like a caged lion.
Riya trying not to hyperventilate.
And Sona… leaning back against the cold wall, legs crossed, eyes half-lidded in quiet fury.
She didn't look like a prisoner.
She looked like someone waiting for an inconvenience to end.
The moment the police dragged them from the airport queues and snapped orders in French too fast to follow, Riya panicked, Kabir protested and Sona… she just stared at the officer who put her in handcuffs. The officer flinched. That was the first red flag.
The second was when Naveen walked by the corridor with a smirk that made Sona rise like she'd slit his throat with silence.
Kabir had to grip her arm.
Riya practically strangled hers.
But now, hours later, the cell felt too small for the storm inside her.
Kabir finally spoke.
"This is insane. We didn't even do anything illegal. They said the passports had inconsistencies but that's bullshit. Someone's behind this."
Sona didn't blink.
"Someone is always behind everything," she murmured.
The calmness in her tone made Kabir stop pacing.
Riya leaned into Kabir's shoulder anxiously.
"Sona," Kabir sighed, "at least pretend to be worried with us."
"I'm not worried," she replied. Her voice wasn't loud. It was simply… decisive. "I'm irritated. They slowed me down."
Riya felt a chill run through her and not the bad kind.
"She scares me more now," she whispered to Kabir.
Kabir swallowed. "Good."
Minutes bled into each other until a guard came running, breathless, talking rapidly on a phone.
Then two officers entered.
Then three more.
Then a man in a fancy suit who definitely didn't belong in a holding cell hallway.
They were suddenly apologizing. Bowing. Gesturing.
Kabir frowned.
"What the hell changed?"
The officer cleared his throat.
"Monsieur Roy has contacted us."
Riya's eyebrows jumped. "Her father?"
The officer nodded vigorously, terrified of the idea of saying the wrong thing. "Yes. And Madame Roy. They sent legal orders. Interpol confirmation. Diplomatic clearance. We apologise for"
Sona stood.
Every officer stepped back like she was radioactive.
Kabir blinked.
Riya whispered, "Oh god…"
Sona tilted her head.
"Where is my father?"
The lead officer swallowed.
"Outside. And… they have arranged a private jet for your immediate departure."
The shift in Kabir and Riya's expressions was instant relief flooding them like fresh air after suffocating.
Sona cracked her neck softly. Then her knuckles.
No joy.
No smile.
Just purpose.
"Open the door," she said softly.
The officer fumbled with keys so fast he dropped them twice. Once the cell clicked open, Sona stepped out like a queen reclaiming a hallway stolen from her.
Kabir and Riya followed, dazed.
They reached the lobby where Mr. and Mrs. Roy stood stone-faced, commanding, both radiating the authority of people who controlled governments before breakfast.
Riya bowed slightly.
Kabir tried not to look overwhelmed.
Sona didn't bow.
She walked forward.
Her mother was the first to break her composure.
She cupped Sona's face, eyes trembling.
"We heard everything. Are you alright?"
Sona leaned into the touch for a split second one heartbeat before straightening.
"I'm fine. I need to get home."
Her father nodded, voice like steel.
"Your plane is ready. You leave within the hour."
Kabir blinked. "That fast?"
"We take care of our own," Mr. Roy replied.
"And our daughter needed to return. Now."
The officers nearby pretended not to hear the threat laced in those words.
Riya touched Sona's arm gently. "We'll make it back, sweetheart. We'll bring him back."
Sona didn't look at her.
Instead, her eyes flicked to the glass doors of the station.
Naveen was gone.
But the scent of his smirk lingered.
She exhaled, long and steady.
The wolves were returning home.
And India wouldn't be ready.
"Let's go," she whispered.
Kabir clapped his hands once. "Finally."
Riya squeezed Sona's wrist.
And Sona lifted her chin, stepping forward with the kind of controlled rage that made the air feel sharp.
Behind them, the Parisian police watched with relief as the storm walked out of their custody.
Ahead of them, the private jet waited silent, sleek, hungry for the sky.
And beneath all of it…
Sona's heartbeat whispered the same vow over and over:
I'm coming, Arjun.
I'm coming for you.
The jet sliced through clouds like a blade that had waited too long to taste home again.
Inside, the atmosphere was tight, cramped, feverish not because of space, but because none of them could breathe properly.
Sona sat by the window, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against her thigh.
Not anxious.
Not scared.
Just a predator held mid-leap, hating the delay.
Kabir bounced his leg so hard the entire seat shook.
Riya kept fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt, glancing at Sona every thirty seconds like she was making sure the girl didn't evaporate into vengeance.
Nobody slept.
Nobody blinked too long.
Every second felt like a rope tightening around their throats.
Hours passed in a blur of turbulence and pacing and unanswered questions.
At one point, Riya whispered, "What if… he's"
Sona snapped her gaze at her, green eyes glinting like polished emerald blades.
"He's alive."
The air dropped ten degrees.
Kabir nodded immediately, muttering, "Yeah. Yeah, obviously. Arjun's indestructible. He literally broke his arm and still topped midterms"
"Alive," Sona repeated, quieter.
Deadlier.
That shut everyone up.
By the time the wheels hit Indian soil, Kabir's foot was tapping so hard the aisle vibrated.
Riya clutched her seatbelt like a lifeline.
And Sona… Sona was already unbuckled, standing before the jet even slowed.
She practically stormed down the aircraft stairs.
Her parents waited at the foot of the runway with the detective they had hired.
A tall man with cold eyes and a thicker folder under his arm than any criminal case deserved.
"Sona," her father murmured, stepping forward.
Her mother's embrace was ready, gentle, protective.
But Sona walked straight past both of them.
"Report," she ordered the detective.
Kabir and Riya exchanged looks.
The detective swallowed, opening the folder.
"We traced the vehicles involved in the chase. The registrations lead to shell companies connected to"
"I already know the cars," she cut him off. "Where is Arjun?"
The detective's throat bobbed. "We… don't have his exact location yet."
Sona inhaled slowly.
Then nodded once.
"Find him," she said.
The detective stiffened. "I'm trying"
She leaned in a fraction, voice ghost-soft and sharp.
"You're not trying hard enough."
Kabir and Riya shivered.
Her father stepped in.
"Sona. There's something else."
Of course there was.
Next came the press.
The moment her family stepped into the conference hall, the media erupted like caged beasts finally fed raw meat.
"Miss Roy, are you connected to the disappearance?"
"Did the Kapoors accuse your family?"
"Is it true you and Arjun Kapoor were romantically involved?"
Sona walked up to the podium with calm, eerie composure.
Her hair tied back.
Her posture straight.
Her eyes glittering with a promise of war.
She took the mic.
And smiled.
It wasn't a soft smile.
It was a blade with lipstick.
"My family had nothing to do with Arjun Kapoor's disappearance," she said. "The Kapoors are deflecting their own negligence onto us."
The room exploded.
Kabir snorted under his breath.
Riya covered her mouth in awe.
Someone yelled, "What is your relationship with Arjun?"
Sona looked straight into the cameras.
"He is my boyfriend," she said.
Flashes went off violently.
Another reporter shouted, "Your--what?"
"My lover," she continued, voice steady. "And my fiancé."
The room went silent so fast the mics picked up the buzz of the lights overhead.
Kabir's jaw dropped.
Riya slapped his arm, whispering, "She's insane… I love her."
Sona continued smoothly, "And I will bring him home myself."
The Kapoors watching from somewhere were probably choking on air.
She ended the press conference without a tremor of hesitation, stepping off the stage like she was done entertaining civilians.
Her parents tried to stop her, but she moved past them again.
"Sona!" her mother called.
But she was already leaving.
Already changing.
Already plotting.
Within an hour, she had changed into a black riding suit the kind that hugged every curve like a second skin.
She tied her hair high.
Strapped a thigh holster on.
Checked the gun.
Loaded it with quiet, casual precision.
Kabir and Riya walked in just in time to see her zip up the jacket.
Kabir blinked. "Whoa okay, that's… a lot."
Riya whispered, "She looks like a warning."
Sona grabbed her helmet, brushed past them, and said only one thing:
"Stay out of my way."
The automatic gate of the Roy mansion swung open as she approached her motorbike a sleek black beast built for speed and violence.
She swung one leg over, engine roaring beneath her like a creature waking from hunger.
Her father tried one last attempt.
"Sona, wait"
But she revved the engine, drowning him out, and shot down the driveway like a bullet kissed by fire.
The night wind whipped around her as she sped through the city.
Traffic blurred into streaks.
The world bent to her determination.
She reached the Kapoor estate minutes later.
It was quieter than it should've been.
Too silent.
Too expectant.
She got off the bike slowly.
Her boots hit the ground with the weight of a war declaration.
She held her gun loosely at her side, the metal glinting under the porch lights.
And she walked toward the front door with the kind of confidence that made guards step back instinctively.
She didn't ring the bell.
She didn't knock.
She simply smirked.
Because the hunt had finally begun again.
And she had arrived alone.
Dressed like sin.
Weapon in hand.
Pointed directly at Arjun Kapoor's family.
Cliffhanger: she lifts the gun, eyes razor-sharp, and whispers
"Let's talk."