The Man Who Died Twice
Vikram Rao’s death was declared confirmed.
Closed-casket funeral. DNA match. Witness statements. Thirty-two floors, no survival.
And yet—
Three weeks into Anika’s custody, the doubts began.
It started with the autopsy report.
Cause of death: multiple blunt-force trauma.
But the time of death was listed as 23:41.
The fall occurred at 23:29.
Twelve minutes.
Anika noticed it immediately.
She slid the paper back through the slot to the guard. “This is wrong.”
He didn’t even look. “Everything’s wrong, miss. Get used to it.”
That night, the audio player activated on its own.
Anika sat up, heart racing.
Her father’s voice didn’t play.
A different one did.
Distorted.
Mechanical.
You pushed the wrong man.
The message ended.
The device went dead.
Leela felt it too.
From her hospital bed, she watched the news replay the same footage again and again—Vikram falling, Vikram dying, Vikram gone.
But she had learned long ago: men like him didn’t build empires without contingencies.
She called in every favor she had left.
Two nights later, she got a message.
Body switched post-impact. Emergency extraction confirmed.
Her blood ran cold.
In custody, Anika was taken for questioning by a new team.
Not police.
No badges.
No names.
A woman with steel-gray hair placed a single photo on the table.
A man in a hospital bed.
Bandaged.
Alive.
His face damaged—but unmistakable.
Vikram Rao.
“He survived,” the woman said. “Barely. And now he belongs to us.”
Anika laughed once. Sharp. Broken. “You think that scares me?”
The woman leaned forward. “No. But this will.”
She slid a second file forward.
SUBJECT: ANIKA RAO
STATUS: ASSET
“They’re cleaning up what Vikram left behind,” the woman continued. “We can either put you back in the ground… or aim you.”
Anika stared at the file.
“So this is the reward,” she said quietly. “Another cage.”
The woman smiled thinly. “No. A leash.”
Anika closed her eyes.
Her father’s words echoed.
Become the end.
She opened them again.
“What do you want?” she asked.
The woman stood. “One last job.”
Outside the facility, Leela received a single encrypted text.
They took her.
Leela shut her eyes.
“Of course they did,” she whispered.
In the distance, a storm gathered.
And somewhere—alive, hidden, furious—
Vikram Rao watched the world that had betrayed him burn slowly.
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