Chapter 68: Soon.
Liam was still stationed by the window, his silhouette reflecting against the glass, his fists clenching every few minutes as he kept watch for anything unusual.
Raquel had finally curled up on the couch, her shallow breaths breaking every so often, her nightmares refusing to leave her alone.
Mira slipped past them both and padded into the kitchen, she shut the door softly behind her, and pulled her phone from the inside pocket of her hoodie. The screen came on, but she didn’t go through her usual contacts. Instead, she slid her thumb across a hidden app, tapping into the encrypted number only two people in the world had access to.
It rang once. Twice. Then—
"Everett." His voice was calm, as if he had been expecting the call.
"It’s me," Mira whispered quietly, careful not to draw the attention of either Liam or Raquel.
A pause, then the sound of movement on his end. Papers shifting, his chair creaking. "Talk to me."
Mira exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We had a visitor. Sort of."
"What do you mean ’sort of’?"
"There was a black SUV outside since before dawn. It had tinted windows and didn’t move, not once." She pressed her lips together, pacing the narrow kitchen. "At first when they told me, I thought it was nothing. But then—" she hesitated, "—someone knocked on our door."
"Knocked?" Everett’s voice sharpened.
"Yes. Three times. No one was there when I opened the door... but there was an envelope on the floor."
"What envelope?"
"Our names were written on it." Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out steadily. "Inside were photos. Of us."
Everett was silent.
"Photos of Raquel stepping off the plane, Liam at the airport, me—" she drew in a breath, "—entering your car."
The silence stretched again, thick enough Mira had to press her palm against the counter to ground herself.
When Everett finally spoke, his voice was lower, "Mira. This isn’t some street-level intimidation. Whoever sent those photos knows what they’re doing. A car like that, a tinted SUV? That’s not common. This is professional tailing across international lines, Mira. It takes coordination, planning, money, structure."
"Not random." Mira’s voice was flat, confirming it to herself as much as to him.
"Not random," he echoed.
She leaned against the counter, closing her eyes. "So what does it mean?"
"It means," Everett said carefully, "that someone has decided to put you under a microscope. First, it was the trailing in New York, then the encrypted message to your secret email, now photos of you in an almost safe house all the way to Mumbai."
"Exactly. How did they find us here?"
"Whoever it is, they’re not playing small games. They want you rattled. And they want you to know they can reach you anywhere."
Mira’s grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles paling. "They’ve already reached us, Everett."
"Then, this is what you do, you don’t panic, okay?" he replied. "You don’t give them that satisfaction. You keep moving. Do you understand me?"
Mira didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted to the brown envelope still lying on the counter. The photographs. The proof. The threat...
Finally, she whispered, "I understand."
She gripped the phone tighter, her breath slowing into measured silence as Everett’s voice cut back in.
"There’s another thing," he said. "Something you need to think about."
Mira’s eyes snapped open. "What?"
Everett’s tone shifted. "These photographs... this precision, this kind of information, timing, location, your movements... some of it could’ve only come from inside your father’s circle."
Her stomach turned. "My... my father’s circle?"
"Yes. Someone who knows you, Mira, but also powerful and resourceful enough to pull those strings. They also knew you were gone, knew you used your father’s aircraft, knew you were with me." Everett’s pause was heavy. "Money can buy loyalty, Mira. But it can also buy betrayal."
She straightened, her jaw tightening. "No. My father’s people are loyal."
"You can’t be so sure about that, Mira. Now, they may be loyal to him," Everett said evenly. "But are they loyal to you?"
The words lingered briefly in the air, then filtered slowly into Mira’s mind.
"But what motive would they have to come after me?"
"Exactly what I’m saying. Must be enemies of your dad."
Her nails dug crescents into her palm.
"I don’t care who it is," she whispered. "If anyone in his circle has sold me out, I’ll—" She broke off, forcing her voice flat. "Doesn’t matter. I’ll handle it."
"You won’t handle anything alone," Everett countered. "Listen carefully, Mira. You have two choices right now."
She stilled, her heart thudding harder.
"One," Everett continued, "I make some calls. I burn through every string I can pull, and I get you out of India tonight. It’ll be fast, risky, and expensive. But you’ll be on a plane and out of reach before dawn."
Mira’s lips parted, but no words came.
"Or two," he said, slower now, as if weighing each syllable. "You stay. You play their game. Let them think you’re rattled, let them believe you’re scared. Meanwhile, we dig. We trace the SUV, the envelope, the leak. And when they step into the open, we’ll know who’s behind it. Alert your father too."
Mira’s gaze flicked toward the living room door. Raquel’s muffled tossing in her sleep. Liam’s restless footsteps pacing the hall. The envelope on the counter. The photos.
Her pulse quickened.
Everett’s voice softened, but carried that undercurrent of warning. "It’s your call, Mira. Out tonight, or stay, and smoke out the traitor."
"But, if they followed me here... won’t they trace me again?"
"It’ll be harder this time. Listen, you got your new names and passports, yes?"
Mira nodded.
"Mira?" He called.
"Yes, yes," she answered hastily.
"Good. This time, you’ll be travelling with the new names, safe and secure. I believe your father’s aircraft gave you away the last time. So this is a better option."
Mira swallowed, her throat tight, her mind already spiraling between the two paths.
For the first time since she picked up the phone, she didn’t know what to say.
"Let me think about it, Everett. I’ll get back to you." She finally said.
"Your call, Mira."
The line went dead.
—
Back in her room, Mira closed the door behind her and leaned her forehead against it. For a second, she let herself breathe. Then the call with Everett slid back into her mind: get out tonight, or stay and bait the traitor.
She did not like either option. Both felt like damage control.
She moved to the desk and sat down. The envelope still lay where she’d left it, a square of brown on top of the photographs. She didn’t touch it. She didn’t need to. She had seen enough of the pictures. The faces. The angles. The quiet craftsmanship of whoever had done it. They were not amateurs. They had money. They had access. And they had someone feeding them details.
She had three reasons to speed everything up.
First, the photos proved they knew where they’d been and what they’d done. That meant someone in Koker’s orbit knew about the flight down here. That also meant if whoever was watching decided to escalate, they could go from threats to violence in one step.
Second, Raquel and Liam were so fragile, they easily panicked. And the longer they stayed here, paranoid, the more likely they were to slip and do something that would make everything worse. Maybe call the wrong person, respond to a text, or something else irrational.
Third, the ritual itself was not an instant switch. It took time. It took ingredients, focus, and a clean window where she wouldn’t be interrupted. She had started the preparations, but the ritual wasn’t done yet. So taking the next step was impossible now.
She pulled her phone towards her and opened the list of contacts she’d been keeping for years. Everett’s name was at the top. She didn’t want to wake him again. He had already put the options on the table. He would move if she asked. But evacuation meant running with only the raw, unpolished pieces of the plan.
She set a tempo in her head. Tonight, she had to finish the binding and test the potion’s anchor.
Then, keep Everett in the dark about the ritual specifics. He is useful. But he does not need to know everything.
It was a small promise to herself. She needed someone who could be trusted. Trust was an expensive commodity now. Everett had hinted at betrayal inside Koker’s circle. It could be anyone.
She pulled the black box from under her bed, opened it and brought out the potion calabash. She set it on the floor and checked the mixture. The color was right, the violet under the black sheen.
She lifted the spoon and tested a single drop on the inside of her wrist. Pain bloomed, then a steady warmth. The anchor would hold but only for a time. It would hold long enough for a first move.
She took a breath and began to work. Her hands moved through the motions she had learned by heart, measure, grind, chant, seal. She spoke the incantations low enough that they wouldn’t form questions if Liam or Raquel overheard.
She cut herself again, small and quick, and let her blood fall in a precise pattern into the bowl. The mixture reacted, brightening, shooting sparks of fire as the potion pulsed in the bowl.
Time was not an ally. She had to move faster than anxiety.
She finished the incantations and kept the bowl back inside the box, then she tucked it under the mattress to keep it hidden but warm.
Then, she sat back on the chair, exhausted and wired. Her face was drawn. There was no doubt now. whoever had followed them had found where they slept. She had to act.
Soon.