Tangled Ties

The Face in the Shadows

The house lay still.

A heavy silence draped over it like a thick winter blanket. Everyone was either asleep or pretending to be, nursing their own emotional wounds in the privacy of the night.

The only sound that dared to stir was the occasional creak of wooden floorboards, and the soft sigh of the wind brushing against the balcony curtains.

But somewhere down the hallway — in a room dimly lit by moonlight — a figure moved.

Siya.

She stood by the window, barefoot, wearing a simple black kurta, her hair tied back in a messy bun. Her eyes held no tears now — only determination.

She had waited.

Waited until Aditi's room went dark. Until the hallway lights were turned off. Until she could hear the snoring of one of the guards posted outside. And now — she was ready.

She grabbed her sling bag and quietly slipped out the back door, avoiding the creaky hinges, keeping to the shadows.

Once outside, the chill of the night air wrapped around her like a secret.

She took out her phone — the screen dim, the battery low — and typed the message she'd been holding in her drafts all evening:

"I did what you asked. It's done. Tell me where shall we meet."

Her fingers hovered a moment before hitting send.

The message vanished into the void, but not even fifteen seconds passed before her phone lit up with a reply.

"Industrial Lane. The old printing press."

No name. Just coordinates disguised in familiarity.

Siya didn't hesitate.

In the backyard, two guards were still half-awake.

"I heard something." one said, rising.

"Probably the wind." the other yawned.

Before they could step forward, Siya threw a stone far to the left, hitting a tin bucket. The sound clanged sharply.

The guards ran toward the noise.

She dashed behind the trees, cut through the garden path, and slid out the servant gate, which she had unlocked with the emergency code. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her instincts screamed to get over with it.

The road was deserted, dimly lit, and unusually quiet. Her footsteps echoed in the emptiness, her breath fogging in the chilly air. With every turn, her resolve shook a little more, but her pace never slowed.

She had to know. Had to finish what had been started — even if it cost her everything.

Finally, the old Industrial Lane came into view. Rusted boards. Half-broken buildings. A haunted silence. The printing press stood at the far end — dark, deserted, as if it hadn't seen life in years.

She took one cautious step forward.

Then another.

And then—
A van.

It came from nowhere.

Headlights off.

Silent. Swift. Ruthless.

Before Siya could even process what was happening, the van screeched to a stop beside her. The side door flung open, and a black-gloved hand reached out.

She gasped, trying to step back—

Too late.

A hand clamped over her mouth.