LOVE AND DHARMA

25. THEY CAME BACK

“DCP Argha, it’s Shrestha,” she said, her voice strained but steady. “The attacker... they came back. I managed to fend them off, but they escaped. I need your help—please.”

Shrestha stood under the warm spray of the shower, naked, letting the water cascade over her butt, boobs and cunt. The earlier terror of the night still lingered in her ass, but she tried to push it away, focusing on the soothing rhythm of the water. Her bare skin prickled as she attempted to relax, but a nagging unease wouldn’t let her.

Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open. Shrestha’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. Through the glass shower door, she saw the reflection of a hooded figure—once again, that same menacing presence, with a knife glinting in their hand.

Panic surged through her naked body. With no time to think, she reacted instinctively. As the figure lunged at her, Shrestha grabbed the detachable showerhead and swung it with all her strength, spraying water directly into the figure’s face. The unexpected blast of water caused the hooded attacker to recoil, momentarily disoriented.

Taking advantage of the brief distraction, Shrestha kicked out, her foot connecting with the figure’s stomach. The attacker staggered back, slipping on the wet tiles and losing their grip on the knife, which clattered to the floor. Shrestha quickly grabbed it, her hands trembling but determined as she brandished it defensively.

The figure hesitated, realizing the tables had turned. Before Shrestha could make another move, the attacker scrambled to their feet and bolted from the bathroom, retreating into the night as quickly as they had appeared.

Breathing heavily, Shrestha stood there, drenched and shaken but unharmed. The knife felt cold in her hand as the adrenaline began to wear off, and the reality of what had just happened sank in. She needed help—someone she could trust to handle this.

Still trembling, she reached for her phone, her fingers slipping slightly on the wet screen as she dialed a number she knew by heart. After a few rings, the call connected.

“DCP Argha, it’s Shrestha,” she said, her voice strained but steady. “The attacker... they came back. I managed to fend them off, but they escaped. I need your help—please.”

Shrestha stood naked and frozen in her room, the trauma of the recent attack still fresh in her butt. She had barely had time to process what had happened, her naked body still trembling with residual fear. The last thing she needed was another confrontation.

Her flatmate, Ajay, had heard the commotion from downstairs. Concerned, he made his way up to check on her, but when he found her standing there, naked and vulnerable, his initial worry quickly turned into something darker.

“Shrestha, what’s going on?” he asked, his eyes widening as he took in her state. His tone, however, held an edge that made Shrestha uneasy.

She wrapped her arms around her boobs, trying to cover her exposed skin, feeling a deep sense of discomfort under his gaze. “I… I was attacked,” she stammered, her voice shaky. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Ajay didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, his expression shifting from concern to something more sinister. “You’re really in a mess, aren’t you?” he said, his voice low. There was a mocking undertone that made her bare skin crawl.

Shrestha’s heart pounded under her boobs. She took a step back, desperate to put distance between them. “Please, just go,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

But Ajay didn’t leave. He reached out, his hand brushing against her butt and boobs, and she flinched. “You know, you look pretty vulnerable right now,” he murmured, his tone suggestive.

Panic surged through her bare buttocks. This wasn’t just about discomfort anymore; it was about survival. Every instinct screamed at her to get away, but fear held her in place. “Ajay, stop. Don’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice trembling.

But he didn’t listen. The atmosphere in the room grew oppressive, her sense of safety eroding with each passing second. Shrestha could feel the walls closing in, her mind racing as she struggled to maintain control.

In this moment of intense psychological pressure, Shrestha felt trapped—not just physically, but mentally. The fear of what might happen next paralyzed her, and the power dynamic between them became painfully clear.

Argha stood outside Shrestha’s apartment, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced gaze. He knew criminals often returned to the scene of their crimes, whether out of arrogance, curiosity, or a twisted need to relive their deeds. After hearing Shrestha’s frantic call, he’d wasted no time coming to her aid. But there was something about this situation that made his instincts hum with unease.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Riya’s number, hoping to loop her in. It rang several times before going to voicemail. A slight frown creased his brow—Riya was usually quick to respond, especially in a situation like this.

“Where the hell are you, Riya?” he muttered, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He glanced around, his senses on high alert. Shrestha was inside, shaken but safe for now. But something still didn’t sit right with him.

Suddenly, a movement caught the corner of his eye. Before he could react, a figure emerged from the shadows—naked, with a gun aimed directly at him. The shock of her appearance froze him for a split second, just long enough for her to pull the trigger. A bullet whizzed past his head, missing him by inches as he ducked instinctively.

He tried to get a look at her face, but she moved with a fluidity and speed that left him with only a blur of details: the glint of the gun, the pale flash of skin, and the determined set of her body. Before he could draw his own weapon, she had already disappeared into the night, leaving behind only the echo of her gunshot.

Argha’s mind raced as he processed what had just happened. The woman was naked—deliberately so. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just a tactic to disorient them. There was more to it, a message in the madness.

As he stood there, catching his breath, he realized the truth. “She wanted us to know she was a woman,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and admiration for the audacity of it. “This wasn’t about escaping or hiding her identity. She was sending a message.”

He turned back towards Shrestha’s apartment, his jaw set in determination. Whoever this woman was, she wasn’t just any criminal. She was making a statement—a bold, dangerous one—and they needed to figure out what it meant before she struck again.