Chapter Three - Secret

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Karishma's hands tightened around the steering wheel as she drove through the chaotic streets of lucknow, her jaw clenched in frustration. The case she had just been handed involved a repeat offender—someone she had personally put behind bars several times before. And yet, here he was, roaming free again. She slammed her fist against the dashboard, the car jerking slightly as she made a sharp turn toward the scene.

This was what infuriated her the most—the system that allowed scum like him to slip through the cracks, to walk free despite the evidence, despite the suffering they caused. And now, she was heading back to the same narrow lane where this man, Pratap Singh, had been accused of yet another assault. The victim was a young woman this time, barely out of college, and Karishma's blood boiled at the thought.

She pulled up to the scene, her eyes scanning the crowd that had gathered around the house. There was a charged energy in the air, a mix of fear and anger. Without wasting a second, Karishma strode through the crowd, her presence commanding respect as people parted to let her through.

She found the girl—pale, trembling, a bruise already forming on her cheek. Her mother stood beside her, sobbing quietly, while the father shouted angrily at the nearby constables.

"Kya hua yahan?" Karishma's voice was sharp, cutting through the noise.The constable, Cheetah, clearly intimidated by her arrival, stammered out a response. "Woh... Pratap Singh phir se—"

"Pratap Singh," she repeated, her tone low and dangerous. "Woh wapas se bahar kaise aaya?"

Cheetah looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "Bail ho gayi thi, Madam."

"Bail?," Karishma muttered under her breath, the word like poison on her lips. Her fists clenched at her sides, the rage inside her bubbling up with each passing second.

She turned to the girl, her gaze softening only slightly as she knelt down to her level. "Tumhe darne ki zaroorat nahi hai. Hum hain yahan. Tumhare saath kuch bhi galat nahi hone denge."

The girl looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes, nodding weakly. Karishma stood, her anger returning as she spun on her heel and stormed toward the constables. "Kahan hai Pratap?"

"Wo apne ghar ke andar hai, Madam," Santu replied nervously.

"Toh ab tak giraftaar kyu nahi kiya tum logo ne?" she snapped, her voice rising. "Humara order dene ka intezaar kar rahe the kya?"

Without waiting for a response, Karishma marched toward the house, her boots striking the ground with fierce determination. The constables followed at a distance, hesitant to approach the storm that was Karishma Singh in full fury. She kicked open the door, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoing through the narrow hallway.

Inside, Pratap sat on a rickety chair, a smug grin plastered on his face as he sipped from a cup of tea. He barely acknowledged Karishma as she entered, his arrogance only fueling her rage further.

"Inspector sahiba," he drawled lazily, "aap phir se aayi ho? Itni baar to mil chuke hain hum. Aap bhi bore nahi hoti?"

Karishma didn't respond, her eyes narrowing as she approached him. In one swift motion, she grabbed him by the collar, yanking him out of the chair and slamming him against the wall. The cup of tea clattered to the ground, spilling across the floor as Pratap's grin faltered.

"Aur tum bore nahi hote yeh sab karke?" she hissed, her face inches from his. "Tere jaise log samajhte kya hain apne aapko? Har baar nikal ke aate ho aur phir se wahi ghatiya kaam shuru kar dete ho."

Pratap's smirk returned, though there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Kya karogi? Maaroge mujhe? Haq hai tumhara?"

Her grip on his collar tightened, and for a brief moment, Karishma, letting all her anger, all her frustration loose on this one man who had hurt so many women, who thought he was untouchable. Her heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears as she strikes him down on the ground.

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