CHAPTER 29: "THE TRAP"

  Singh devised a plan. They would use Vikram as bait. Word would leak that Vikram was cooperating with police, providing insights into the Echo Killer. The hope was that Rohit, feeling betrayed by his hero, would make contact.

  "This is dangerous," Singh warned. "He might come after you." "Or he might just vanish deeper. But we have to try."

  The leak was carefully orchestrated. A "source close to the investigation" told reporters that Vikram Sharma was helping police track down the copycat killer. The story ran on all major channels.

  Within hours, Vikram's phone started ringing. Journalists wanted interviews. Online trolls sent death threats. But there was one message that stood out, sent via encrypted email:

  Meet me. Alone. Nehru Place metro. Platform 3. Tonight, 11 PM. If you bring cops, I disappear forever. - R

  Vikram showed it to Singh. "It's a trap." "Obviously. But it's also our best chance."

  "I'll wear a wire. Plainclothes officers nearby. But you can't be visible. He'll spot it."

  "Agreed. But Vikram... if things go south, you run. Don't try to be a hero."

  That night, Vikram stood on Platform 3 of Nehru Place metro. It was late; only a handful of passengers waited for the last train. The station's fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sickly yellow light.

  Rohit appeared at 11:05 PM, walking casually from the escalator. He

  looked thinner, more hardened. His eyes scanned the platform constantly.

  "You came alone?" Rohit asked. "Yes."

  "I don't believe you. But it doesn't matter. I wanted you to see something."

  He handed Vikram a phone. On the screen was a live video feed—a dark room, a man tied to a chair, gagged and bloodied.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Vikram's stomach dropped. "Who is that?"

  "Vishal 'Toofan' Yadav. I took him three hours ago. His guards are dead. He's alone. And in twenty minutes, I'm going to kill him. Unless you stop me."

  "Where is he?"

  "I'll tell you. But first, you have to understand. I'm not the villain here. I'm you. Eight years ago. Fighting against a system that doesn't care. You became a symbol, Vikram. And symbols have power. I'm using that power to finish what you started."

  "I didn't start anything. I survived."

  "You started a war. And I'm finishing it." Rohit's voice was eerily calm. "Toofan's at an old warehouse in Ghazipur. Sector 15. If you hurry, you might save him. Or you might not. Either way, it ends tonight."

  "Rohit, don't do this. You still have a choice—" "I made my choice. Just like you did."

  A train pulled into the station. Rohit stepped toward it. "Goodbye, Vikram. Thanks for the inspiration."

  The doors closed. The train pulled away. Rohit was gone.

  Vikram immediately called Singh. "Ghazipur. Sector 15. Old warehouse. Toofan's there. Rohit's going to kill him."

  "We're ten minutes out. Hold your position." "I'm going. If we wait, Toofan dies." "Vikram, don't—"

  He hung up and ran for a taxi. The driver, sensing urgency and money, drove fast through the empty midnight streets. They reached the industrial area in fifteen minutes.

  The warehouse was dark, isolated. Vikram approached cautiously. The front gate was open. Two bodies lay in the shadows—Toofan's guards, throats slit.

  Inside, the warehouse was cavernous. Dim lights flickered in the back. Vikram moved silently, his heart hammering.

  He found them in a small office. Toofan was still tied to the chair.

  Rohit stood over him, a long knife in his hand. "Rohit. Stop."

  Rohit turned, unsurprised. "You came. I wasn't sure you would." "You don't have to do this."

  "Yes, I do. This man killed my father. Just like Khanna's men killed innocent people. Just like the system let them."

  Toofan's eyes were wide with terror above the gag. Vikram stepped closer, hands raised.

  "If you kill him, you become what he is. A murderer. A monster." "You killed. You're not a monster."

  "I am," Vikram said quietly. "Every day, I live with what I did. The

  faces. The blood. It doesn't wash away, Rohit. It stains you forever." Rohit's hand trembled. "He deserves to die."

  "Maybe. But you don't deserve to carry that weight. Let the system handle it."

  "The system failed!"

  "Then we fix the system. But not like this."

  Sirens wailed in the distance. The police were close. Rohit heard them too. His face twisted with anguish.

  "I wanted to be like you." "Don't be like me. Be better."

  Rohit lowered the knife. He looked at Toofan, then at Vikram. Then he ran—out the back door, into the darkness.

  Vikram didn't chase him. He untied Toofan, who collapsed, gasping.

  Singh and his team burst in moments later. "Where is he?" Singh demanded. "Gone."

  They searched the area but found nothing. Rohit had disappeared into the city once again.

  But this time, Vikram had planted a seed of doubt. A chance at redemption.

  Whether Rohit would take it remained to be seen.