The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. Vanasagheray's chest rises and falls in slow, as he lies asleep, his face peaceful in the silence of the bungalow. Lyra stands beside the bed, her arms crossed, watching him. Her thoughts are a swirl of emotions—relief that he's resting, worry for what the future holds. She brushes a strand of hair away from his forehead, her gaze lingering on his face, trying to find solace in this quiet moment.
From behind her, a soft voice breaks the silence.
"You know, today's his birthday."
Lyra turns, startled. Ankit is standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the faint light from the hall. His expression is soft but filled with a quiet understanding.
"24th December?" she asks, her voice hushed.
Ankit nods. "Yeah. He turns 35 today."
Lyra turns back to Vanasagheray, her lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. She leans in slightly and whispers, "Happy birthday, Vanasagheray." For a moment, it feels like a fragile wish, whispered into a world teetering on the edge of chaos.
She steps away from the bed, her heart heavy, and follows Ankit out of the room, careful to close the door behind her. The weight of everything they've been through presses down on her, the quiet moments like this a stark contrast to the storms that seem to surround them.
As they walk down the hallway, Lyra's phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out and glances at the screen. Her brow furrows immediately, her fingers tightening around the device.
Ankit, noticing her shift in demeanor, stops. "What is it?" he asks, concern edging into his voice.
Lyra doesn't answer. Instead, she quickens her pace toward the living room, her mind racing. She stops in front of a section of the wooden-paneled wall, pressing her hand against a small panel that seems out of place. With a soft click, the panel flips open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside, a flat-screen television slides out, adjusting into position with a quiet hum.
Ankit's eyes widen in shock. "Wait... what?" he exclaims, completely taken aback.
Lyra still doesn't reply. She grabs the remote and turns on the television, quickly lowering the volume. The screen flickers to life, revealing the stark red and yellow headlines of a breaking news report. The room is filled with the ominous hum of the news anchor's voice.
On the screen, bold letters flash: "Bombing at Northgate Police Station—62 Officers Dead."
Lyra and Ankit stare at the screen, horror dawning in their eyes as the news details scroll across the bottom of the screen, confirming their worst fears. A bombing, an attack, and unimaginable loss.
"Oh my god," they whisper in unison, their voices trembling with fear.
District Attorney Ethan Caldwell leans back in his leather chair, the dim light of his office casting long shadows across the room. The paperwork, now signed and organized, marks the end of another exhausting day. He glances at the clock—9:02 PM. With a tired sigh, he pulls on his overcoat, grabs his briefcase, and makes his way to the door.
As he descends the grand staircase of the courthouse, the sound of his footsteps echoes through the empty halls. Stepping outside, the cool night air along with a snow fall greets him, sharp against his face. His car, a black sedan, waits at the curb, engine softly humming. His driver, an older man named Harris, steps out lowering his head and opens the door.
"Ready to go home, sir?" Harris asks, his voice low and professional.
"Let's go, Harris," Ethan says, sliding into the backseat and settling in, "Why do I hear you differently?"
YOU ARE READING
The Final Capture (Vanasagheray Trilogy Part II)
Ciencia FicciónHiding from the government and "Those People", the trio-Vanasagheray, Ankit and the female agent, Lyra Quince- work on the capabilities of Vanasagheray. Meanwhile, Varden goes 'all rogue' to complete his quest, as the dark secrets of the government...
