It started with a phone call.
Meher answered Kabir’s private line while he was in the shower. She wasn’t supposed to. She knew that.
“Hello?” she said softly.
A deep voice responded. “Is Kabir there?”
“No.”
Pause. Then: “Tell him Alina is moving something tonight. Warehouse 17. He’ll understand.”
Before Meher could ask more, the line went dead.
She stood still, the words echoing.
Warehouse 17.
Alina.
Tonight.
She should’ve told Kabir. Immediately.
But something stopped her.
A voice in her head whispered, Let’s see how he moves without control.
That night, she said nothing.
She kissed him. Let him touch her. Let him fall asleep beside her with trust in his arms.
And in the dark…
She stared at the ceiling, heart pounding.
She had lied.
For the first time.
The next day, Kabir was livid.
“Someone moved my shipment,” he snapped, pacing. “Alina’s name came up.”
Meher blinked. Innocent. “What do you think she’s planning?”
Kabir didn’t notice her lie. He kissed her forehead before leaving, promising blood.
When the door shut, Meher exhaled—shaky, unsure.
She hadn’t betrayed him. Not exactly.
But she had held power. Quietly. Alone.
And it thrilled her.
Because in Kabir’s world, lies were weapons.
And tonight…
She’d just sharpened her first blade.
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