Blood is a choice
773 Words
The world didn't stop.
It simply became silent.
Kian's pistol remained aimed at the stranger's chest, but his finger no longer obeyed him.
"My blood..."
His voice barely existed.
"...doesn't match?"
The stranger nodded.
"No."
Inspector Raghav stepped between them.
"Don't listen to him."
"You know I'm telling the truth," the stranger replied calmly.
Raghav's jaw tightened.
"I said enough."
The stranger laughed.
"Interesting."
He looked at Kian.
"Notice how he didn't call me a liar."
"He asked me to stop talking."
Kian slowly lowered the g*n.
Not because he trusted the man.
Because he trusted Raghav's silence even less.
"Answer me."
Raghav looked away.
"Kian..."
"Answer me."
The inspector closed his eyes.
"When you were fourteen..."
"...you were injured during the school bus accident."
Kian remembered.
Broken ribs.
Internal bleeding.
Three surgeries.
"My father donated blood."
Raghav nodded.
"He tried."
"Tried?"
"He couldn't."
"Why?"
Silence.
"WHY?"
"Because your blood type was incompatible."
The words landed like a hammer.
Kian remembered waking up in intensive care.
His father hadn't visited.
He'd assumed it was another business meeting.
Now...
The memory felt different.
The stranger walked around the circular table, his footsteps echoing through the bunker.
"Your father searched half the country for a matching donor."
"He almost bankrupted a hospital buying time."
"He refused to let you die."
Kian looked up.
"Then why didn't he tell me?"
"Because the truth would destroy everything he built."
Raghav suddenly drew his pistol.
"Enough."
The stranger stopped walking.
"One more step."
"I'll shoot."
The silver-haired man smiled.
"You've had thirty years to shoot me."
"You never did."
Raghav's finger trembled.
Kian noticed.
It wasn't fear.
It was regret.
"You know him."
"I do."
"Who is he?"
The inspector whispered the name as though speaking it aloud would awaken something ancient.
"Ishaan."
The stranger inclined his head politely.
"It's been a long time, old friend."
Kian's mind raced.
"You were one of the founders."
"No."
Ishaan smiled.
"I founded them."
The room fell still.
"You saw twelve chairs."
"There were never twelve."
"There were thirteen."
"The newspapers wrote five founders."
"The bunker remembers thirteen."
"The truth..."
He touched the empty space where the missing chair had once stood.
"...was always thirteen."
Kian's heartbeat thundered.
"You removed your own chair."
"No."
Ishaan looked almost amused.
"They removed me."
"Why?"
"They called it betrayal."
"Were they right?"
Ishaan didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at the faded projector.
"I warned them."
"About what?"
"That power always demands sacrifice."
"They thought I was speaking metaphorically."
His smile disappeared.
"I wasn't."
A metallic click echoed behind them.
Kian spun.
The bunker door.
It had just sealed shut.
Massive steel bolts slid into place one after another.
CLANG.
CLANG.
CLANG.
Emergency lights switched from white...
...to red.
A mechanical voice filled the chamber.
SECURITY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.
IDENTIFY THIRTEEN FOUNDERS.
FAILURE RESULTS IN PERMANENT LOCKDOWN.
Kian frowned.
"What is this?"
Raghav's face drained of color.
"Oh no..."
Ishaan looked almost nostalgic.
"I wondered if it still worked."
The mechanical voice repeated:
NINETY MINUTES REMAINING.
A digital timer illuminated above the vault door.
01:29:59
It immediately began counting down.
Kian rushed to the steel entrance.
It didn't move.
He fired twice into the locking mechanism.
The bullets flattened against reinforced steel.
Nothing.
"No signal," Raghav muttered, staring at his phone.
"We're buried too deep."
Ishaan folded his hands behind his back.
"You have two choices."
"You can waste ninety minutes trying to escape..."
"...or spend them learning why your father spent twenty-eight years making sure you'd never find this place."
Kian turned slowly.
"What do you gain from this?"
Ishaan met his eyes without blinking.
"The same thing your father wanted."
"And what's that?"
Ishaan answered so quietly it almost sounded like pity.
"To make sure..."
"...the last Dev doesn't repeat the first Dev's mistake."
Before Kian could ask what that meant, the projector flickered to life again.
A new recording appeared.
Not from twenty-eight years ago.
From yesterday.
The camera showed Room 1708 of St. Gabriel Medical Center.
His father's ICU.
Someone had been secretly recording inside.
The screen zoomed in on the unconscious Arjun Dev.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then—
His father's eyes opened.
He looked directly into the hidden camera.
And smiled.
Not the smile of a dying man.
The smile of someone who knew exactly where he was.
Then he spoke five words.
"He's finally inside."
The recording ended.
Kian stood frozen.
The assassination.
The bunker.
The messages.
The attacks.
A terrifying thought took shape.
What if none of this had been designed to kill Arjun Dev?
What if...
it had all been designed to bring Kian here?
- Writer
