AUTHOR'S POV

As the leader was dragged away, Mahika’s expression hardened. The thrill of victory in the boardroom earlier was nothing compared to the rush she felt now, with blood and power coursing through her veins. This world, brutal and unforgiving, was where she truly thrived.

Kartik, ever attentive, noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor. He’d seen it before—the cold, calculated side of Mahika that surfaced when threats needed to be eliminated. It was a part of her that few knew, and even fewer survived encountering.

“Do you want me to handle the interrogation, or will you take pleasure in doing it yourself?” Kartik asked, his voice laced with the dark humor they often shared.

Mahika took a sip of her drink, savoring the burn of the alcohol as it mingled with the adrenaline. “I’ll handle it,” she replied, her voice steady, almost indifferent. “I want to see the look in his eyes when he realizes just how futile his mission was.”

MAHIKA’S POV

I watched as Kartik led the man to the basement, his feet dragging on the floor, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. The music from the club above was muffled down here, the dim lights casting shadows that danced ominously on the walls. This was my domain, the place where I controlled the narrative, where I was judge, jury, and executioner.

As I descended the stairs, the familiar scent of fear and desperation filled the air. It was intoxicating, almost as much as the blood that had soaked into my clothes. The basement was dimly lit, with only a single bulb casting a weak glow over the scene.

The man was strapped to a chair, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled against his restraints. His bravado from earlier had evaporated, replaced by the stark reality of his situation.

I approached him slowly, the knife still in my hand, its edge gleaming menacingly. “Now,” I said, my voice cold and calm, “let’s discuss your boss. Who sent you, and why?”

His eyes darted around, looking for an escape that wasn’t there. “You’ll never win,” he spat, though the fear in his voice betrayed his words. “There’s a whole network against you.”

I smiled, a slow, predatory smile. “Networks can be dismantled. But first, let’s start with you.”

AUTHOR'S POV

The basement’s cold air clung to the walls, the dim light casting long, eerie shadows across the room. The man strapped to the chair trembled slightly, his previous bravado slipping away with each passing second. Mahika stood before him, her gaze steady, the knife in her hand catching the weak light.

She moved closer, her steps deliberate and unhurried. There was no rush; she had all the time in the world. Kartik stood nearby, his arms crossed, a silent guardian ready to assist if needed. But this was Mahika’s game, and he knew better than to interfere.

“Your boss,” she began, her voice low and controlled, “has sent you to die. Do you understand that? You’re nothing more than a pawn, disposable and replaceable.”

The man’s eyes darted around the room, his mind racing for a way out, but there was none. He was at her mercy, and there would be none tonight.

Mahika knelt beside him, the tip of her knife tracing a slow, deliberate line down his cheek. He flinched, but she held his gaze, her expression calm, almost detached. “Tell me his name,” she whispered, her voice a dangerous lullaby. “And maybe, just maybe, I’ll make this quick.”

He remained silent, his jaw clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto some semblance of defiance. Mahika sighed softly, a sound that was more disappointment than anger. “I see,” she said, almost to herself. “You’re going to make this difficult.”

Without warning, she drove the knife into his thigh, the blade sinking deep into flesh. He screamed, the sound echoing off the walls, but Mahika didn’t flinch. She watched him with cold, unfeeling eyes, as if observing an experiment.

“Pain,” she said, her voice steady as she twisted the knife slightly, “has a way of breaking down even the strongest of wills. It strips away the lies, the bravado, until there’s nothing left but the truth. So, let’s try this again. Who sent you?”

He gasped for breath, the pain radiating through his leg like fire. “I don’t know his name!” he cried out, desperation leaking into his voice. “I swear, I don’t know! They just give us orders, that’s all!”

Mahika regarded him for a moment, weighing his words. Then, with a sudden, brutal movement, she yanked the knife out, blood spurting from the wound. He howled in agony, his body convulsing in the chair, but Mahika remained calm, her expression unchanged.

“Orders?” she repeated, wiping the blade clean on his shirt. “Fine. If you can’t give me a name, then tell me about these orders. What were you supposed to do after killing me?”

He was panting now, his face pale, sweat dripping down his forehead. “We—we were supposed to report back,” he stammered. “To a location—an old warehouse on the outskirts of the city. That’s all I know, I swear!”

Mahika tilted her head slightly, considering his words. “You see?” she said, her tone almost gentle. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Pain can be a very effective motivator.”

She stood up, gesturing to Kartik. “Patch him up,” she ordered, her voice devoid of any emotion. “But keep him alive. I want to know if he’s telling the truth.”

Kartik nodded and moved to tend to the man, who was now barely conscious, his body slumped in the chair. As he worked, Mahika walked over to the small sink in the corner, washing the blood from her hands with practiced ease. The water ran red for a moment before swirling down the drain.

She dried her hands and turned back to Kartik. “Once you’ve confirmed his story, dispose of him,” she said simply. “We can’t leave loose ends.”

Kartik glanced up at her, a small smile playing on his lips. “You never do, Mahika. You never do.”

Mahika returned his smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. The game was far from over, and she knew there would be more to come. But for now, she had what she needed—a lead, a name, a direction to follow.

As she ascended the stairs, leaving the basement behind, she felt the familiar thrill of the hunt coursing through her veins. This was her world, a world where power was the ultimate currency, and she was determined to remain at the top, no matter the cost.