4.

Author's POV

Shivantika sat curled into the corner of her couch, the case file spread open across her lap. A pen rested loosely between her fingers as she reread the forensic notes for what felt like the hundredth time.

Her concentration broke when her phone buzzed beside her. She glanced at the caller ID and answered immediately. “Yes?” she said. “What did you find?”

“Ma’am,” the forensic analyst replied, “we finished examining both samples - the broken glass you submitted earlier and the pen you sent today.”

Shivantika straightened slightly. “And?”

“The fingerprints don’t match.” Her brows pulled together instantly.

“What?” she asked.

“The prints recovered from the glass and the prints lifted from the pen belong to two different individuals.” Her grip tightened around the phone.

“That’s impossible,” she said sharply. “The man connected to the murder and the man who came to my office are supposed to be the same person.”

“I understand, ma’am,” the analyst answered carefully, “but the reports are clear.”

Silence stretched for a second. Then quietly, “Alright. Send me the full report.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The call ended.

Shivantika lowered the phone slowly and stared out through the glass walls of the apartment at the city glowing below.

None of it made sense. The broken glass had been recovered near the victim’s body during postmortem evidence collection.

And the pen?

That had come directly from Vardan’s hand. So why didn’t the fingerprints match?

Her thoughts slowed. Unless the fingerprints from the glass belonged to someone else inside Vardan’s circle.

One of his men. Someone close enough to clean evidence. Or manipulate it.

A tired exhale left her lips. This case was getting messier by the hour.

A few minutes later, she stood from the couch and shrugged on her jacket with quick, impatient movements. Her expression had hardened again, determination replacing confusion.

Sitting still wouldn’t give her answers. But action definitely would. She grabbed her bike keys and left the apartment.

The city was alive tonight. Neon lights reflected against wet roads while distant music bled into the streets from crowded bars and clubs.

Shivantika parked her bike near the entrance of a packed nightclub and removed her helmet, letting her hair fall freely over her shoulders.

The blue and purple lights flashing across the street made the entire area glow unnaturally bright.

Leaning casually against the bike, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

The call connected quickly. “Come outside,” she said flatly. “Now.” Then she disconnected. Absolutely no greeting.

A few moments later, the club doors burst open. A man stepped outside laughing loudly, clearly drunk enough to think he looked charming.

Halfway down the stairs, a woman intercepted him and kissed him openly. He kissed her back without hesitation.

“Wait for me inside, Angelina,” he murmured against her lips smoothly. “VIP section.” The woman giggled instantly.

Shivantika rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable.”

The man finally spotted her and immediately straightened. “Antika...”

Her glare alone shut him up. “It’s Shivantika,” she corrected coldly. “Not Antika.”

He swallowed hard. “Right. Sorry.”

Ivan approached more carefully this time, though the smell of alcohol hit her almost immediately. She resisted the urge to step backward.

“What do you need?” he asked finally.

“I need someone watched.” His expression shifted at once. The joking disappeared.

“I’ll send you the names and address,” she continued. “I want updates on everywhere they go, who they meet, and what they do.”

Ivan frowned slightly. “This connected to your current case?” She only nodded in return.

“And the target?” He inquired again.

“A middle-aged couple.” She said.

That surprised him. “You want me to track the parents? Not the criminal?”

Shivantika crossed her arms slowly. “That’s the problem,” she said quietly. “I’m no longer sure who the criminal actually is.”

For the first time that night, Ivan looked genuinely serious.“What happened?”

“The evidence doesn’t fully add up anymore.” She hesitated briefly before adding. “And if I dig too deeply into Vardan directly right now, I could end up triggering something dangerous.”

Ivan studied her expression carefully. Then nodded once. “Alright.”

She pulled folded cash from her jacket pocket and handed it over. “Don’t get careless.”

He smirked faintly while counting the notes. “You really know how to ruin a fun evening.”

“Good.” She turned toward the bike again when his voice stopped her.

“You could come inside for one drink, you know.”

Her expression alone nearly made him regret speaking.

“Okay,” he said immediately, raising both hands. “Never mind.”

She started the bike again and rode off without another word. By the time she returned home, the city had gone quieter.

She entered the apartment, locking the door behind her before tossing the keys onto the small console table near the entrance.

A long breath escaped her tiredly. Then she froze. Something felt wrong. Not visible yet very wrong.

The air itself felt different somehow. Slowly, her eyes lifted toward the dark living room ahead.

Every light inside the apartment was off. Her heartbeat slowed dangerously.

She lived alone.

Very carefully, she reached for the decorative vase resting near the doorway and wrapped her fingers around it tightly.

Then she moved forward silently.

Or at least she tried to.

The soft chime of the anklet around her leg betrayed her immediately with every careful step. She didn’t even notice it.

As she neared the living room entrance, she leaned slightly around the wall and stopped breathing.

A man stood inside. Facing away from her. A black hood covered most of him, his figure nearly blending into the darkness itself.

He wasn’t searching the apartment. Wasn’t moving. Just standing there. As if waiting.

Shivantika tightened her grip on the vase and moved closer quietly, lifting it high enough to strike. But before she could swing he turned instantly. His reflexes were terrifyingly fast.

One hand caught her wrist mid-air while the other shoved her backward hard enough to pin her against the wall.

The vase slipped from her fingers and shattered across the floor. Her breath hitched sharply.

His face was hidden beneath a black mask, and with the entire living room swallowed in darkness, she couldn’t even make out his eyes. Only the outline of him stood visible against the faint city light filtering through the balcony glass doors.

He couldn’t see her either, only feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers, her presence sharp and alive in the darkness. Even her eyes remained hidden from him.

She twisted sharply in his grip, trying to wrench herself free, but his fingers only tightened around her wrist.

The vase slipped from her hand and crashed onto the floor, shattering into dozens of sharp pieces. A hiss escaped her lips as she glared at him.

His hands shifted to her shoulders, pinning her harder against the wall. Her jaw tightened, but she refused to let even a flicker of discomfort show on her face. Anger surged through her instead.

Without warning, she jerked her knee upward, aiming directly between his legs, but he reacted instantly, blocking the move with his own leg and trapping hers in place before she could land the hit.

Pain shot through her shoulder when his grip tightened near the healing gunshot wound, but she forced herself not to react.

“Whoever you are,” she said steadily despite the adrenaline racing through her body, “you’re trespassing in my apartment. Let me go before I call the police.”

Though he didn’t move. Then suddenly he dragged her forward by the injured shoulder.

A sharp wave of pain tore through her arm, nearly forcing a sound from her throat, but she bit it back instantly. He shoved her roughly onto the couch.

Before she could recover fully, he was already moving toward the exit of the apartment.

“Stop!” she shouted. But he didn’t even hesitate.

He went out from the penthouse. Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.

Shivantika ran toward the gate immediately and gripped the knob hard enough for her knuckles to pale.

She searched the empty corridor.

But she found nothing. No sound. No movement. Just the light flickering in the corridor outside her penthouse.

Her breathing turned uneven. “That’s impossible…”

How can a person disappear so fast? Then realization hit her all at once.

The file.

She rushed back inside immediately and switched on the lights. The apartment looked untouched. Every single piece on it's own place.

She sprinted into the bedroom and yanked open the hidden compartment where she had concealed the file stolen from Vardan’s mansion.

Her hands moved rapidly through the documents. Every page remained there. Nothing missing.

And somehow that unsettled her even more. Because this wasn’t theft. Whoever entered her apartment hadn’t come to steal. They came to confirm something.

And now one thought kept repeating inside her head relentlessly, someone knew she had the file.

It was impossible to believe that the intruder had entered her penthouse for no reason. Nothing looked disturbed.

The furniture remained perfectly in place. The drawers were untouched. Even the file she had stolen from Vardan’s mansion was exactly where she had hidden it.

And nobody knew the passcode to that compartment except her. Her breathing slowed as she tried forcing logic into the chaos swirling inside her mind.

The penthouse security was extremely strict. No outsider could simply walk in unnoticed.

Then realization struck her. The balcony door. She had left it unlocked before leaving earlier. A sharp curse slipped under her breath. That had to be how he entered.

Immediately, she stepped toward the balcony and shut the glass door firmly before locking it carefully this time. Then she turned and hurried toward the elevator.

The moment the lift doors opened on the ground floor, she strode straight toward the security desk. The guards standing there stiffened the instant they saw the fury on her face.

“Someone broke into my apartment,” she said sharply. “And what exactly were all of you doing?” The men exchanged uneasy glances.

One of them finally spoke carefully. “Ma’am… none of us saw anyone enter the building after you left.”

Shivantika narrowed her eyes. Something wasn’t adding up. Then suddenly her thoughts clicked into place.

She looked at them cautiously. “Who was assigned to the back entrance tonight?”

The guards visibly paled. One of them swallowed nervously before answering. “Ma’am… the worker stationed there suddenly fell ill a few hours ago.” He hesitated briefly. “And in the confusion… the back entrance wasn’t monitored properly afterward.”

Anger burned through her chest. “For now,” she said icily, “bring me the CCTV footage from the back entrance.” The guards straightened immediately.

“And later,” she continued, her voice dangerously calm, “I’ll deal with the rest of you.” Fear flickered openly across their faces.

One of the guards hurried toward the CCTV control room at once while Shivantika followed behind him, her boots striking sharply against the marble floor with every furious step.

A figure suddenly appeared on the CCTV screen. Shivantika’s eyes narrowed instantly.

The man wore a dark jacket. His face was concealed beneath a black mask, only his eyes visible though even those appeared blurred through the grainy footage.

The timestamp showed him entering through the back entrance calmly, almost confidently.

Then he stopped.

And slowly turned his head toward the camera. Shivantika felt her stomach tighten.

He stared directly into the lens for several long seconds. As if he already knew she would come looking for this footage.

“Pause it,” she said immediately. The guard froze the frame.

“Zoom in on his face.” The footage enlarged, becoming grainier with every second until only the masked portion of his face remained visible on the screen.

His eyes.

That was all she could really see. And yet, something about them felt disturbingly familiar. Her brows slowly furrowed.

She had seen those eyes before. Maybe recently maybe long ago. Because she could feel that the eyes were a little familiar.

But where?

No matter how hard she tried, the memory refused to fully surface. Frustration burned through her instantly.

She stepped away from the monitor, jaw tight with anger. The security guard stood up nervously from his chair when she turned toward him.

“This is the last time I’m ignoring this kind of negligence,” she said coldly.

The guard swallowed hard. “If something like this happens again, be prepared to lose your jobs.”

The man nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“This time the intruder entered my apartment,” she continued sharply. “Next time it could be someone else’s home. Someone could actually get killed because of your carelessness.”

The guards lowered their heads silently. Guilt spread visibly across their faces. Satisfied for the moment, Shivantika turned toward the exit.

But before she could leave, one of the guards spoke hesitantly behind her. “M-Ma’am…” She stopped.

“There’s blood on your shoulder.” he continued. Her eyes flicked downward automatically. A dark stain had spread slowly across the fabric near her injured arm.

Only then did she realize the wound had started bleeding again. The struggle with the intruder must have reopened it. But strangely, she hadn’t even noticed the pain until now.

Her expression remained unreadable. Without responding, she walked out of the CCTV room, her mind no longer focused on the injury but on those eyes.

Shivantika had practically destroyed the order of her own penthouse.

The living room was a mess. Cushions lay scattered across the floor, drawers were left half-open, books and files covered the furniture, and even the bedroom looked ransacked under her relentless search.

For the past hour, she had been checking every possible corner of the apartment, trying to figure out whether the intruder had planted something inside. But she found nothing.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she straightened from the floor. Then suddenly a realization struck her.

Without wasting another second, she crouched beside the bedside cabinet and pulled the bottom drawer out completely before looking underneath it carefully. A gasp left her mouth.

Something small was attached beneath the wooden surface. Very carefully, she pulled a white handkerchief from her pocket and used it to remove the object without touching it directly.

The moment she examined it closely, her expression darkened.

A voice tracker.

So that was his real purpose. Not theft but surveillance. He wanted to listen to every conversation happening inside her apartment.

For a few silent seconds, she simply stared at the tiny device resting against the cloth.

Then she grabbed a small transparent evidence bag from the drawer and carefully sealed the tracker inside before placing it back securely.

She had no intention of throwing it away. She wanted forensic analysis done on it first.

Fingerprints. Manufacturing source. Any trace possible.

Most importantly she wanted to compare the fingerprints on the tracker with the fingerprints recovered from the pen Vardan had handed her in the office.

If they matched then it would confirm that Vardan himself had entered her penthouse tonight.

Until then, mentioning the tracker in front of him would be a mistake. If she confronted the wrong person too early, she could lose whatever advantage she still had.

Exhaustion settled heavily into her body once the search ended. She walked into the bathroom slowly and peeled off her shirt carefully before tossing it aside.

Cold water splashed against her face as she leaned over the sink for a moment.

Then she turned on the tap fully and finally looked up into the mirror. Her gaze dropped toward the gunshot wound near her shoulder.

The earlier struggle had reopened it. Blood continued seeping slowly from the injury, trailing across her skin in thin crimson lines.

She stared at it silently, breathing unevenly. The pain had become sharper again, deeper, more persistent.

But even now, the wound bothered her less than the thoughts circling endlessly inside her mind.

Someone had entered her home. Installed a tracker. Escaped without a trace.

And somehow, the closer she got to the truth the more dangerous everything around her became.

••••••••••••••

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