Author’s POV

CBI Headquarters never slept.

Even in the middle of the morning rush, the building hummed with controlled urgency—boots clicking against marble floors, files being passed, voices low but sharp. Every second mattered here.

Especially today.

Veer Rana stood in the operations room, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw locked.

Thirty minutes.

That’s what he had said.

It had now been forty-five.

“She’s late,” Rudra muttered, checking his watch for the third time.

Veer didn’t respond.

His eyes were fixed on the central screen where lines of code blinked erratically—systems stabilised but not secure. Whoever had breached them earlier hadn’t attacked again… which made things worse.

Hackers didn’t go quiet unless they were planning something bigger.

“She better have a damn good reason,” Rudra added.

Purvi glanced at Veer, hesitant. “Sir… she was responding remotely. Maybe traffic—”

“I don’t care,” Veer cut in, his voice low but lethal.
“When I say half an hour, I mean half an hour.”

Director Ayushman observed him silently from the corner. He’d seen many officers like Veer—disciplined, rigid, intolerant of disorder.

And then there was Shree Rao.

Walking disorder.

A volatile combination.

Shree is in a cab “I swear, Mumbai traffic deserves its own criminal record.” She muttered under her breath.

The cab screeched to a halt outside CBI HQ, and she practically threw money at the driver before bolting out glanced at her watch.

10:15 a.m.

Great. Just… great.

“Veer sir is going to murder me,” she muttered under her breath, running inside.

Security bowed their heads as she passed by them. I dashed past the reception, hoodie bouncing, bag slamming against her side.

As the elevator doors slid shut, she leaned back against the wall, chest heaving.

“Breathe, Shree. You’re not a criminal. Yet.” She said to herself

The doors opened.

Operations floor.

And the moment she stepped out—

Silence.

Every single head turned toward her.

Oops.

Veer Rana stood at the centre of the room.

Tall. Still. Furious.

If looks could hand out punishments, she would already be suspended.

She straightened instinctively and walked forward, trying to look calm… professional… not like a girl who overslept and argued about master’s degrees at breakfast.

“Good morning, sir,” Shree said, voice light. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Veer’s eyes flicked to the clock behind her.

“Forty-five minutes,” he said coldly.

She winced. “Technically… fifteen minutes late.”

The room collectively sucked in a breath.

Purvi looked like she wanted to crawl under her desk.

Rudra stared at her as she had just signed her own death warrant.

Veer stepped closer.

Slow. Deliberate.

“You think this is a joke?” he asked quietly.

“No, sir,” she replied instantly. “I think it’s traffic.”

That did it.

“Enough,” he snapped.
“You were given a direct order. When you’re part of my team, you follow timelines. No exceptions.”

She lifted her chin and said, “Then don’t call me when systems are already burning, sir.”

Silence slammed into the room.

Director Ayushman raised an eyebrow.

Veer stared at her for a long second.

Dangerous silence.

Then—
“Get to work,” he said sharply, turning away.
“We’ll discuss your punctuality later.”

She exhaled.

Barely escaped execution.

Shree didn’t waste another second.

She dropped her bag beside Arnav’s desk, pulled out her laptop, and plugged straight into the system.

The room changed.

It always did when she worked.

Her fingers moved fast, eyes sharper than before, scanning patterns others didn’t even realise existed.

“Whoever breached us earlier,” she said, typing rapidly, “they weren’t after data.”

Rudra frowned. “Then what?”

“Testing,” she replied. “They were checking response time. Capabilities. Weak points.”

Veer turned back sharply. “You’re sure?”

Shree nodded. “Very.”

She pulled up a visual map of the system.

“See this?” she pointed. “They entered, created noise, then exited deliberately. If they wanted damage, they’d have stayed longer.”

Arnav leaned closer. “So… this was a warning?”

“No,” Shree corrected softly.
“This was an invitation.”

Veer’s jaw tightened. “Invitation for what?”

Her fingers paused.

“For war.”

At that exact moment—

The alarms blared.

Red lights flashed.

Screens across the room exploded into motion.

“They’re back!” Purvi shouted.

Arnav panicked. “Sir, they’re locking us out!”

Shree’s expression hardened instantly.

“Move,” she said.

Veer stepped aside without argument.

For the first time.

Shree took the central seat.

“Rudra, isolate external access. Purvi, kill all non-essential connections. Arnav—don’t fight them head-on. You’ll lose.”

Veer watched her.

She didn’t ask permission.

She commanded.

And the team followed.

Code flew across her screen.

Sweat trickled down her temple, but her hands never slowed.

“They’re fast,” she muttered. “Smarter than the last time.”

“Can you stop them?” Veer asked, voice-controlled.

She didn’t look up.

“I can,” she said.
“But I don’t want to.”

Veer frowned. “What?”

“I want to catch them,” she continued. “Stopping them is easy. Trapping them—that’s fun.”

That word again.

Fun.

“You have five minutes,” Veer said.

Shree smiled faintly.

“More than enough.”

Shree’s POV

This hacker was arrogant.

I liked that.

They mirrored my moves, anticipated counters, and tried to bait me into mistakes.

Cute.

I rerouted silently, masked my presence, then did something unexpected—

I opened a door.

Just a crack.

They noticed immediately.

I could almost feel their curiosity.

“Come on,” I whispered. “Take it.”

They did.

And the moment they stepped inside—

I slammed the door shut.

“Got you,” I breathed.

IP trace locked.

Location fragment retrieved.

Not exact… but close.

Very close.

“Veer, sir,” I said, finally looking up at him.
“I have a partial location.”

His eyes sharpened. “Where?”

I hesitated.

Then said it.

“Mumbai.”

The room froze.

Veer stared at the screen, then at me.

“You’re saying,” he said slowly, “our hacker… is local.”

“Yes,” I replied. “And bold.”

Because now?

Now they knew who I was.

And they weren’t afraid.

If anything—

They were excited.

Just like me.

Somewhere in the city, a game had begun.

And storms like this?

They never ended quietly.

I leaned back against the corridor wall outside Ops, laptop bag slung on one shoulder, brain still buzzing with code.

Another near-catch.
Another almost.

And another lecture from Mr Stone-Face Himself.

I sighed internally.

Why does Veer Sir never smile?

Like… genuinely—what would happen if he smiled?
Earthquake? Tsunami? National emergency alert?

CBI ALERT: Officer Veer Rana has smiled. Please remain calm.

I snorted quietly.

Such a khadoos officer.

Yes, Mr Khadoos.
Capital K.

I didn’t even know his first name properly. Veer… Veer what? Rana, yes—but still. Something about him screamed discipline, rules, and a zero joy policy.

I shook my head and walked toward the pantry.

Coffee.
I desperately needed coffee.

The pantry was quiet, with glass walls separating it from the rest of the floor. I placed my laptop bag down and leaned toward the machine, pressing the button.

Coffee. With extra sugar.

As the machine whirred, my thoughts drifted again.

Why do you care if he smiles, Shree?
Focus.

The cup slid out.

I picked it up.

And then—

The floor tilted.

Suddenly, the room felt… wrong.

My head spun violently, like someone had flipped a switch inside my chest. The sounds blurred. The lights felt too bright.

No. Not now.

I gripped the counter.

My heart stuttered.

Missed a beat.

Then another.

I tried to inhale, but the air didn’t feel like enough.

I hadn’t—

Oh God.

I hadn’t taken my medicine.

In the rush. In the chaos. I had forgotten.

My vision darkened at the edges.

The cup slipped from my fingers.

And just as my knees gave way, I felt strong arms holding me.

Firm. Steady.

“Easy,” a deep voice came.

I barely registered it before being guided into a chair.

“Shree.”

I blinked hard, forcing my vision to clear.

Director Ayushman.

His grip was secure but gentle, one hand steadying my shoulder as he crouched slightly in front of me.

“Look at me,” he said calmly. “Breathe slowly.”

I obeyed, focusing on his voice.

In.
Out.

The dizziness receded—slowly, reluctantly.

“What happened?” he asked, sharp eyes scanning my face.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
“Just… skipped breakfast.”

Lie.

A bad one.

He didn’t look convinced.

“You don’t faint from skipping breakfast,” he said softly. “Is this a habit?”

I shook my head, gaze dropping to my hands.

“Sir pls stand up. Don’t do this”, I said as he was crouched down to look at me and I was sitting on a chair, and he was almost kneeling, which was giving me guilt and anxiety. He stood up, straightened, and looked at me as he knew I was not telling the truth.

“Don’t ask. Please don’t ask.” I was repeating the sentence in my mind.

He studied me for a moment longer, then sighed. “Do you want me to remind at what basis u signed the contract to stay in CBI?” he said, and I nodded. I know what he is talking about.

“Drink some water,” he said, handing me a glass. “And sit here.”

I nodded, sipping slowly.

After a pause, he stood.
“We’ll talk later.”

My heart skipped—for a different reason this time.

“Yes, sir,” I murmured.

He left the pantry.

The moment he was gone, I exhaled shakily and reached into my hoodie pocket.

Small strip.
Tiny white pill.

My lifeline.

I glanced around—no one inside—then swallowed it dry, pressing my fingers briefly against my wrist, counting my pulse.

Stupid, Shree.
So stupid.

Veer’s POV

I wasn’t watching her.

That’s what I told myself.

I was reviewing the system logs when movement near the pantry caught my attention through the glass wall.

Shree.

She looked… off.

Not talking. Not smiling. Not moving like usual.

Then—

She staggered.

My body tensed instinctively.

Before I could move, Director Ayushman reached her.

Caught her just in time.

I watched silently as he guided her into a chair, spoke to her—low, controlled. The way one speaks to someone fragile.

Shree kept her gaze down.

Shoulders slightly hunched.

Hiding something.

I narrowed my eyes.

That wasn’t her usual posture.
The girl who argued with me about traffic didn’t look like this.

Ayushman stayed a moment longer, then left.

I expected her to follow.

She didn’t.

Instead, she reached into her pocket.

My focus sharpened.

She took something.

A pill.

Small. Quick. Deliberate.

And then—she closed her eyes briefly, like someone bracing themselves.

Something cold settled in my chest.

That wasn’t caffeine.

And that wasn’t normal.

I leaned back slowly in my chair.

What are you hiding, Shree Rao?

Because whatever it was—

It wasn’t small.

And storms like these?

They never stayed contained for long.