The rain had started to fall, a light drizzle veiling the city in a cold, dim haze. Arjun stepped out of the building with his jaw clenched, phone pressed tightly to his ear as his boots thudded across the wet pavement toward his car. His voice was low, intense.
"We found the killer," he said, his tone grave. "The guy who proposed to her six months ago... he returned to the city. He killed her."
He pulled the car door open, sliding into the driver's seat. But just as he reached to close the door, something caught his eye. There was a sticker stuck to the rear side window. Arjun leaned in closer, squinting at the message scrawled in eerie black ink:
"Wow, so much improvement. You're getting close to death now."
A pause. His breath hitched. His blood boiled. He looked around, eyes scanning the parking area, every corner, every shadow, every face.
But then, as if switching masks, Arjun gave a slow, calm smile. A deadly one. He folded the paper in silence, pocketing it like it was a message meant just for him.
"I'll catch you soon," he muttered under his breath, staring into the distance.
Back at the station, he stormed in with fire in his eyes. His team instantly sensed the change in his aura.
"Get this tested for fingerprints," he ordered, slapping the sticker down onto the evidence desk.
The forensic officer nodded and rushed off with the note. Meanwhile, Arjun gathered his team. They began revisiting the CCTV footage—especially from days when the killer was most likely around. The team was focused, determined, scrolling through frame by frame, eyes glued to the screens.
They also started canvassing the areas near the mission girl's residence and nearby public places. One shopkeeper near a street-side tea stall paused when shown the suspect's photo.
"Yes... I've seen him," the man muttered, brows furrowed. "Just a few days ago, around that hotel over there. He looked like he was in a hurry."
Arjun wasted no time. He rushed to the location with two officers. It was a rundown street, partially covered by tarpaulin roofs and blinking neon signs from an old hotel.
He approached the reception counter and silently flashed the photograph. The manager squinted at it, a flicker of recognition washing over his face.
"Room 062," he whispered nervously. "He checked in under a different name."
Arjun motioned for silence and turned to his team. They ascended the stairs like shadows, guns ready, nerves steady. Rain tapped at the windows as tension filled the narrow corridor.
They reached the door. No sound. No movement. Arjun nodded.
BANG!
The door burst open. The team stormed inside. But the window was wide open—and the room was empty.
"He escaped!" one officer shouted, rushing to the window.
Arjun growled. "Fan out! Look for clues!"
He sprinted toward the fire escape, heart pounding. Cold rain splashed against his face as he saw a dark figure fleeing into the alley.
"STOP!" Arjun yelled and leapt down the staircase.
The chase through the rain-slicked streets was brutal. They crossed slippery rooftops, jumped over fences, and darted through alleyways. The suspect was fast—but Arjun was fueled by vengeance.
The killer slid around a corner—but Arjun tackled him hard to the ground.
THUD!
"Why did you kill her?!" Arjun screamed, slamming his fist into the man's face.
The man tried to resist, squirming beneath him, but Arjun's fury was relentless. Rain mixed with blood and sweat. The pain of the girl's loss, the hours of dead ends, the sticker—all poured into Arjun's fists.
Two officers arrived, breathless, and pulled him back before he went too far.
The suspect was handcuffed, face bloodied, breathing heavily, yet smirking.
Arjun looked down at him, cold and victorious.
"Your game is over."
And with that, the killer was dragged back into the darkness—only this time, it was to face the light of truth.