"What are you doing here?" Shriya demanded, though part of her wanted to collapse into Jesse's arms. "Do you have a death wish?"
"How dare you do this to MK!" Jesse shot back, tears streaking her face. "Do you know how much pain she's in while you stand in there getting married?"
Shriya opened her mouth—and found nothing.
"Why?" Jesse pressed. "Why are you doing this to her? Don't you love her anymore?"
"Stop!" Shriya screamed, clutching her head. "Stop, Jesse. I'm doing this for her, okay? This is for her own good."
Jesse laughed, hollow and furious. "For her own good? While she's drowning? While she can barely breathe? You call this good?"
Shriya's hands shook as she pulled out her phone. She opened the gallery and shoved it toward Jesse.
Photos.
MK asleep on her bed. Taken without her knowledge. Taken from angles no one should have had access to.
Jesse stared, confusion giving way to horror.
"I didn't take these," Shriya said hoarsely. "Someone else did. I had to break up with her to save her life. Do you think I wanted this?"
Jesse froze.
Then her face drained of color.as if something suddenly made sense.
"Shriya…" she whispered, gripping her arm. "I think MK is in trouble. She's been missing for three days."
The words hit like a bullet.
The world tilted.
MK was missing.
The sentence didn't echo.
It didn't need to.
MK has been missing for three days.
It landed between them and stayed there, heavy and irreversible.
Shriya didn't scream. She didn't cry. For a heartbeat, she didn't even breathe.
Her body reacted before her mind could. Her fingers slipped numb from Jesse's arm, her phone clattering against the floor. The corridor felt suddenly too narrow, the walls closing in as if they had been waiting for permission to collapse.
"Missing?" Shriya repeated, her voice barely a sound. "What do you mean… missing?"
Jesse swallowed hard. Her earlier fury drained into something raw and terrified.
Jesse continued. "Her mother. Ruth. She asked if MK had come back to the apartment."
The world shifted violently.
Shriya staggered back, her shoulder hitting the wall. The pain in her jaw from the punch earlier flared, but it was nothing compared to what tore through her chest now. Three days.
I left her to protect her, Shriya thought wildly. I left her so she would be safe.
Her phone lay on the floor where it had fallen. She stared at it like it was a living thing, like it had betrayed her.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Shriya demanded, her voice breaking through the numbness at last.
Jesse's eyes filled. "Because I didn't know. Because I didn't think—"
Because none of them had imagined this ending.
Shriya bent down, snatched up her phone, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped it again. She unlocked it, fingers flying across the screen. Calls. Messages. Missed notifications stacked like unanswered prayers.
MK's name.
She dialed.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
A sharp, panicked sound escaped her throat—something between a gasp and a sob. Her chest tightened until it felt like her ribs were caving in.
"This isn't possible," Shriya whispered. "She wouldn't disappear. She wouldn't—"
She stopped herself.
MK had disappeared before. Emotionally. Quietly. When she was hurt, she folded inward, went still, stopped asking for help.
Jesse grabbed her arm. "We need to act. Now."
Shriya nodded, already moving. Her body slipped into something colder, sharper. Training. Instinct. Panic became fuel.
She started calling everyone.
Her uncle first—short, clipped words, no explanations. Then contacts she had sworn never to use again. Names that existed only in encrypted lists and untraceable lines. Each call was a gamble, but she didn't hesitate.
"I need her found," Shriya said into the phone, voice steady despite the storm inside her. "Immediately."
She ended one call and made another. "Yes. Now. I don't care what it costs."
Jesse watched her, stunned. The woman in front of her was not the bride from moments ago. Not the lover who had clung to MK like she was oxygen.
This was someone else entirely.
Shriya's thumb hovered over the screen as she sent one final message—short, ruthless.
A reward. No questions. Immediate response.
The number she attached made even Jesse's breath hitch when she glimpsed it.
"That's insane," Jesse whispered.
"I don't care," Shriya replied. "I want her alive."
She ended the call just as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Voices. Security. People looking for her.
Silas.
Shriya stiffened.
"I need your keys," she said suddenly, turning to Jesse.
"What?"
"Your car. Now."
Jesse didn't argue. She dug into her pocket, pressing the keys into Shriya's palm. "I'm coming with you."
"okay," Shriya said sharply. "You're calling the cops. Right now. Give them everything. Locations. Names. Don't wait."
Jesse hesitated. "Shriya—"
"Please," Shriya said, softer now. "Do this."
Jesse nodded, already pulling out her phone as she followed.
Shriya moved fast.
At some point, the wedding dress was gone. She didn't remember changing, only the relief of shedding it, like peeling off a lie. She emerged in dark clothes, hair pulled back, face stripped of ceremony and softness.
She slipped out through a side exit just as sirens wailed faintly in the distance—too far away. Always too far.
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
Then another.
Information came flooding in faster than she could process it. Names. Vehicles. A pattern. People who had heard about the reward and decided they preferred money to loyalty.
Good, Shriya thought coldly. Greed is predictable.
Another message flashed.
A location.
Her breath caught.
"Found her," she whispered.
Jesse's voice crackled through the phone. "Where?"
"A warehouse. East side. Industrial district."
Jesse said after some time. "Police are mobilizing."
"we can't wait for them," Shriya said, already moving.
She drove like the city belonged to her.
Traffic lights blurred. Horns blared. Her foot stayed heavy on the accelerator as the warehouse district loomed ahead—dark buildings, empty streets, shadows stretching too long.
Her mind betrayed her as she drove.
MK on the floor, holding her chest.
MK's voice breaking, begging her to stay.
MK sleeping peacefully for one last night, unaware it was a goodbye.
Hold on, Shriya begged silently. Please. Just hold on.
She screeched to a stop outside the warehouse, tires protesting. Jesse was, pale and shaking, already on the phone with emergency services.
"Wait," Jesse said, grabbing Shriya's arm.
"Please. Don't go in alone."
But Shriya was already out of the car.
She stepped into the shadows of the warehouse entrance—and froze.
Silas stood just inside.
Behind him, bound to a chair, her head bowed, was MK.
A gun rested casually in Silas's hand, its barrel pressed lightly against MK's back like a reminder.
Shriya's heart stopped.
"Silas," she breathed. "What are you doing?"
MK stirred at the sound of her voice.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
"Shrii?"
That single word shattered what was left of Shriya's restraint.
"She's the reason you didn't want me," Silas said calmly, his eyes never leaving Shriya.
"I already agreed to marry you," Shriya said desperately. "You promised. You said you wouldn't hurt her."
"I had to make sure," Silas replied. "I needed leverage."
Shriya stepped forward without thinking. "Please," she begged. "Let her go."
The gun shifted slightly.
MK's eyes widened as understanding dawned. Fear. Confusion. Relief at seeing Shriya—twisted painfully together.
"Please, Silas," Shriya whispered again.
The warehouse held its breath.