CHAPTER 6
1959 Words
The sun rose, but Meera didn't move.
She sat on the edge of her bed like a statue, staring at the phone on the floor. The photograph lay beside it. The image of herself-taken without her knowing, her privacy shattered-burned into her memory more than her skin.
Her body felt disconnected from her mind. Like she wasn't real anymore. Just a shadow... something being watched.
Watched. Followed. Tagged.
They had seen her.
They knew where she lived.
They had stood outside her door.
The night had fractured something inside her. Sleep hadn't come. Food felt like poison. And water just sat untouched on her nightstand. Every sound felt like a footstep. Every gust of wind outside was like breath on her neck.
She wasn't safe. Not here. Not anywhere.
But one thought cut through the fog like a knife:
Anaya is still down there.
That truth roared louder than her fear.
By 8:27 a.m., she was in the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, rubbing the shadows beneath her eyes until they were red and raw. Her reflection startled her-sunken cheeks, cracked lips, and eyes that trembled, even at rest.
"You can't go back," she told herself.
But she would.
Because if she didn't-no one else would.
She dressed in grey and black, trying to become invisible. Her scarf barely concealed the raw fear etched into her face. Every nerve in her body told her to run. To hide. To scream. But louder than all of that was the echo of that girl's broken voice from the night before.
This wasn't just about Anaya anymore.
9:05 a.m.
She arrived at Indigo Quill.
The glass tower shimmered under the sun, tall and brilliant-like nothing dark could exist within it.
But Meera knew better now.
She walked in with her heart hammering and her back straight. The lobby buzzed with life-keycards beeped, heels clicked, and laughter echoed near the coffee machine.
All normal.
Like the horror under their feet didn't exist.
She kept her face blank. Just another employee. Just another morning.
At her desk, everything looked untouched.
Except...
Her drawer was slightly open.
She never left it that way.
Slowly, she pulled it open.
The brown envelope was gone.
Her drawer? Empty. She had tucked the photo deep between folders. Now... nothing.
They knew.
Her heart hammered in her chest. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her keyboard. Then-ping.
A new message lit up on her screen:
> Subject: URGENT - Content Team Meeting (Conference Room 6B)
Time: 9:15 AM
Mandatory Attendance
From CEO: Mr. Karan Malhotra
Assistant: Rajat Kapoor
Her stomach dropped.
She scanned the room. No one else moved. No one reacted.
"Did they not see the message?" she whispered to herself.
9:14 a.m. She headed to Conference Room 6B, anxiety coiling around her like barbed wire.
She opened the door.
Empty.
Not one person.
Just rows of chairs, still and silent.
She stepped inside slowly, half-expecting people to jump out, or for someone to say "Just a mistake."
But the lights were already on. A single folder sat at the head of the table, labelled: "CONFIDENTIAL: Meera ."
Before she could touch it, the screen at the far end flickered to life.
Rajat's face filled the projection.
Pre-recorded.
"Good morning, Meera," he said calmly, sipping from his mug.
"I imagine you're a little confused. Alone in the room. No one else showed up. Strange, right?"
Her mouth went dry.
"This meeting was only meant for you. Because you've been busy. And we've noticed."
He leaned closer to the camera.
"Curiosity's a tricky thing. It creates stories... but sometimes it opens doors that should stay closed."
Her skin prickled.
"No more wandering. No more staircases. No more photos."
A pause. Then, flatly:
"We're watching you. Stay in line."
She froze.
The screen went black.
Meera stared at it, heart pounding, lungs refusing to expand. She backed out of the room as if it were about to explode.
At her desk, her phone buzzed again.
> Unknown Number:
They saw you. Don't go back there.
Then:
> If you want answers, 11th-floor terrace. 11:30. Come alone.
There was no office on the 11th floor,that was empty.
But she knew she'd go.
Because now it wasn't just a warning.
At 11:28 AM, Meera stood in front of the emergency stairwell. It was quiet. The kind of quiet that made your skin crawl.
She climbed.
Floor Eleven. Then a narrow flight more-until she reached an old, metal door with a sign that had long since faded.
She pushed it open.
The terrace was vast, and empty except for rusting chairs and a forgotten vending machine. A few pigeons flapped off the railings as she stepped into the sunlight.
And there-at the edge-stood a figure.
Slim. Hoodie is drawn up. Face obscured.
"You came," the figure said, voice low. Feminine.
Meera kept a distance. "Who are you?"
The girl turned. It wasn't someone Meera recognized-but the eyes... they held knowledge. Fear. Rage.
"My name's Tara," she said quietly. "I used to work in HR."
Meera's breath caught.
Tara continued, stepping closer. "I know what you saw last night. The locker. The girl. The stairs."
"How do you know so much about me?" Meera asked, backing away a step. Her voice was taut, laced with fear. "How do you know what I saw?"
Tara didn't answer immediately. Her eyes, dark and sunken, flicked toward the edge of the terrace. "Because I've been watching you."
Meera froze.
"I was the one sending you the messages," Tara added. "The one who left the brown envelope on your desk."
Meera's heart dropped. "Then why help me? Why now?"
A long silence passed between them, broken only by the wind rustling through the forgotten rooftop.
Tara looked away. Her jaw clenched. "Because I couldn't save her."
"Who?" Meera asked.
"My best friend," Tara whispered. "Reena. We joined Indigo Quill together. Bright-eyed, fresh out of college. We laughed at office politics. Shared lunch every day. Until one day... she didn't show up."
Tara's voice cracked as she went on.
"They said she resigned. Moved away. But I knew her. She would've told me. I dug deeper. Too deep. And then one night, I found her name... in one of the files."
Her voice broke. "She was sold. Two days after she went missing. Died in a holding cell in Germany. Reports said , Heart failure. But I saw the photos. She was r***d and murdered. "
A sharp pain twisted in Meera's chest.
"I filed a report. Went to the cops. HR labeled me unstable. They fired me. Sent men to scare me off. I had to vanish. Live like a ghost. But I never stopped watching them. Waiting for the next girl they'd target."
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Then I saw you. Curious. Smart. Brave. You reminded me of her."
Tara took a breath. "I don't want another Reena on my conscience. That's why I'm helping you. Save your friend, Meera. Because I couldn't save mine."
"Rajat Kapoor," Tara continued, her tone sharpening. "He was the one who took the brown envelope from your desk."
Meera's head snapped up.
"He has master keys. To every cabin. Every drawer. He's the one who sends warning messages, silences whispers. And that night? The video and photographs you received-of yourself?"
Tara nodded grimly. "That was him. He wanted you to know you were being watched. He wanted to scare you off."
Meera swallowed hard, her blood turning to ice.
"Why me?" she whispered.
"Because you were asking the wrong questions. At the wrong time. And because Anaya..." Tara hesitated, "...meant something to you. And they knew that."
Meera swallowed, throat dry. "What's down there? Who's the 'Master'?"
Tara looked out at the skyline for a long time before answering.
She met Meera's gaze.
"They sell girls. Groomed. Conditioned. Repackaged for high-paying buyers."
Meera blinked away tears.
"And Anaya?" she asked.
Tara hesitated. "I think she's still alive. But if she's on Sub-Level 3, you won't find her without help."
"What do I do?"
Tara handed her a small USB. "It contains every confidential information you will need and access to the sub-level 3."
Meera stared at the drive. Her hands shook as she took it.
"What about you?"
Tara gave her a tight smile. "I'll draw attention tonight. Create noise. That's your window."
A loud clank echoed from the stairwell.
Tara's eyes widened. "Go!"
Meera turned and sprinted, her breath ragged, heart pounding.
As she disappeared down the stairs, she looked back one last time. Tara stood tall at the edge of the terrace, the wind howling around her hoodie, eyes fixed on the skyline like a soldier waiting for the final fight.
Back at her desk, Meera clutched the USB tightly in her palm. Her heart hadn't stopped racing since she returned. Every email ping made her flinch. Every passing shadow made her turn. Every breath she took was a countdown. Every sound was a warning. Every monitor blinked like an eye.
One chance.
Failure wasn't an option.
Not anymore.
The night was suffocating. Every breath Meera took felt thick with dread. Back in her tiny apartment, she shut the door behind her, bolting it thrice. Her fingers trembled as she plugged in the USB Tara had given her.
The folder named "REQUIEM" blinked open.
Encrypted documents. Surveillance videos. Names, prices, rankings-girls treated like inventory. Each file slashed deeper into Meera's soul. There were training logs, psychological assessments, branding procedures. She found one titled: "Anaya_SubLevel3."
It was dated a week ago. It showed her friend strapped to a chair, unconscious, her face bruised. A masked man injected something into her arm while a voice off-camera said, "Shipment to Belgium in 48 hours."
Meera screamed.
She recoiled, nausea swelling in her throat. There were blueprints of the building-every exit, every sublevel. And an access key embedded in a hidden program. Tara had given her everything.
Everything.
Tonight would be her only chance.
---
Midnight crept in like a shadow. Dressed in black, USB hidden in her shoe lining, Meera returned to Indigo Quill Publications. The building was ghostly quiet. The guards were missing-deliberately distracted?
She moved fast. Down the elevator shaft. Past Level 1. Then manually climbed the emergency rungs to reach Basement 2. Tara's access key worked.
The cold air bit at her skin as the door clicked open.
CCTV cameras pointed away. A map was burned into her memory . Meera moved, fast and silent, boots echoing softly as she followed the memorized path. Left. Past the rows of catalogued restraints. Right. Past the medical bay.
And then-
She stopped.
A massive reinforced door. Bolted. Scarred. Labeled in faded paint:
THE LOCKER. THE SUB LEVEL 3.
She scanned the locker handle using the code stored on the USB.
Click.
The door creaked open.
Darkness everywhere.
She went downstairs.
Inside, the air was heavier. Staler.
The room was lined with hospital beds-rusted, bolted to the ground. Leather straps hung limp at their edges. Some Beds were stained-dark patches that told stories Meera didn't want to know.
And empty.
All of them.
No Anaya.
"Anaya?" Meera whispered, her voice cracking. "Please... are you here?"
A groan.
Soft. Barely audible. From the far end.
She rushed forward, heart hammering-when something sharp jabbed her neck.
Instant.
Pain flared, hot and white, and then numbness spread like ice through her spine.
She spun-
A figure in black. Masked. Gloved.
They dropped the syringe. It hit the floor and rolled, empty.
Meera's limbs failed. Her knees buckled. The world tilted sideways.
She tried to scream-but her throat locked.
Meera fell, convulsing slightly before darkness swallowed her.
The last thing she saw was a pair of black boots stepping closer.
---
- Writer
