Aarav's heart pounded as the hooded figure stepped forward, his movements precise, calculated. The underground chamber, once a sanctuary of secrets, now felt like a death trap.
Meera gripped his wrist. "Aarav… what do we do?" Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of the storm brewing inside her.
The man in black tilted his head. "You weren't supposed to be here." His voice was eerily calm, as if he had rehearsed these words a hundred times before.
Aarav squared his shoulders. "And yet, here we are."
The figure let out a slow sigh, as if disappointed. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" His gloved fingers tapped against his wristwatch. It wasn't an ordinary watch—it had a metallic glow, something futuristic.
Aarav glanced at Meera, their silent language clear. Run.
But before they could move, the chamber's entrance slammed shut with a metallic clang. The air turned heavy, almost suffocating. A low mechanical hum filled the space.
Trapped.
The man in black took a step closer. "Do you know what happens to those who stumble upon history that should remain buried?"
Aarav clenched his fists. "You erase them."
The man's lips curled into a smirk. "Exactly."
Then, in a blur of motion, he lunged.
Aarav barely had time to react. He ducked, grabbing the closest object—a rusted iron rod. Meera moved swiftly, pulling out a small knife from her boot. The air crackled with tension.
The man dodged their attacks with inhuman speed. He wasn't just trained—he was something else. His movements were too smooth, too precise. As if he knew their attacks before they even made them.
This wasn't an ordinary assassin.
Aarav's mind raced. The files. The mission. The symbol on his sleeve. Operation Ashwamedh.
Was this man… part of it?
Meera slashed at him, but he caught her wrist mid-air and twisted it, making her drop the knife. Aarav used the distraction, swinging the iron rod at his head.
Crack!
The man staggered back, his hood slipping for a second.
Aarav's breath hitched.
A scar. Running from his temple to his jaw. His eyes—sharp, cold, calculating—locked onto Aarav's.
Not with anger. Not with pain.
But with recognition.
Aarav felt an eerie chill run down his spine. Why did this man look like he knew him?
Meera grabbed his hand. "We need to go. Now!"
Aarav snapped back to reality. They had no time for questions.
In one swift motion, he yanked the old bookshelf down, blocking the man's path. Dust exploded in the air, momentarily blinding their pursuer.
They ran. Through the dark tunnels. Past the ancient corridors filled with secrets. The walls trembled behind them as the man in black tore through the debris.
They burst out into the night, gasping for air.
Aarav looked back. The underground entrance was hidden again, swallowed by the ruins.
For now, they had escaped.
But he knew one thing.
This wasn't over.
Somewhere in the shadows, that man was still watching. Still hunting.
And worst of all—he knew who Aarav was.