The search parties returned at sunset. Empty-handed. Exhausted.
Sneha was still missing.
The principal called an emergency assembly in the dining hall. Students packed in, nervous energy crackling through the air like static.
"We're doing everything we can," the principal said, voice strained but authoritative. "The local police have been notified. A formal search will continue tomorrow with trained personnel."
"What about tonight?" someone called out.
"Tonight, everyone stays in their dorms. No exceptions. Teachers will be monitoring all exits. Your safety is our priority."
Rudra watched from the back of the room. The principal looked tired. Genuine. But seated beside him, calm and collected, was Dr. Malhotra.
Taking notes.
Always taking notes.
After the assembly, students were herded back to their dorms. The atmosphere was tense. Some girls were crying. Boys tried to act tough but couldn't hide their fear.
Rudra returned to his room, but he didn't plan on staying there.
He had work to do.
Preparation
At 11 PM, Rudra's phone buzzed.
A message from Anvi: Are we really doing this?
Rudra replied: Yes.
Bhairav: I have the tools. Meet at the usual spot in 30.
Rudra: Acknowledged.
He packed light. Dark clothes. Flashlight. His phone fully charged. A small first aid kit—just in case.
He also brought something else. Something he'd kept hidden since arriving in Kupam.
A knife.
Small. Sharp. Illegal for students to carry. But Rudra had learned long ago that rules didn't matter when survival was on the line.
He slipped it into his boot and left the room.
The dorm was quiet. Most students were asleep—or pretending to be. The hallway lights were dimmed for night mode.
Rudra moved silently, avoiding the creaky floorboards he'd mapped in his first week.
At the end of the corridor, near the fire exit, a teacher sat in a chair. Supposed to be watching.
But his head was tilted back. Eyes closed. Snoring softly.
Rudra slipped past him like a ghost.
The Meeting
The clearing in the forest was dark. No moon. Just stars and the faint glow of Bhairav's camping stove.
Anvi was already there, dressed in black, hair tied back. She looked different. Harder. Ready.
Bhairav arrived a minute later, carrying a backpack full of tools.
"Everyone set?" Rudra asked.
Nods all around.
"Good. Here's the plan."
Rudra pulled out his phone, showing them the enhanced map from the archive photos.
"The sublevel is accessed through the old wing. There's a staircase—locked—at the far end of the basement. That's our entry point."
"What about guards?" Anvi asked.
"The night watchman does his rounds at midnight. After that, he doesn't come back until 4 AM. We have a four-hour window."
"And if someone's down there?" Bhairav asked.
"We adapt." Rudra's voice was firm. "But our priority is finding Sneha and documenting everything. We're not here to fight."
"Unless we have to," Anvi said quietly.
Rudra met her eyes. "Unless we have to."
They moved out.
The Descent
The old wing was darker than Rudra remembered. Shadows pooled in corners. The air smelled of decay and something chemical. Antiseptic.
They descended the stairs to the basement. Past the archive room they'd broken into before.
At the end of the corridor was a heavy metal door. New lock. Electronic keypad.
Bhairav knelt, examining it. "This is going to take time."
"How much time?" Rudra asked.
"Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen."
"Do it."
While Bhairav worked, Rudra and Anvi kept watch. Every sound felt amplified. Every shadow seemed to move.
Anvi stood close to Rudra, her breathing steady. Professional.
"You've done this before," Rudra observed quietly.
"Done what?"
"Breaking and entering. This doesn't scare you."
Anvi smiled faintly. "I've been preparing for this moment for three years. Fear is a luxury I can't afford."
Rudra understood that better than anyone.
"Got it," Bhairav whispered.
The lock clicked. The door hissed open.
Beyond it was darkness. And a staircase leading down.
They descended.
The sublevel was cold. Clinical. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in harsh white light.
The corridor was lined with doors. Each labeled with numbers. No names.
"Start recording," Rudra said.
Anvi pulled out her phone, activating the camera. Bhairav did the same.
Rudra tried the first door. Locked.
Second door. Locked.
Third door. Unlocked.
He pushed it open carefully.
Inside was a small room. Concrete walls. A metal chair bolted to the floor. Restraints on the armrests.
Cameras in the corners.
A one-way mirror on the far wall.
"Observation room," Anvi muttered, filming everything. "They watch from the other side."
Rudra's jaw clenched. This wasn't just unethical. This was criminal.
They moved to the next room. Same setup. Empty.
Fourth room. Fifth room. All empty.
Then they reached Room 7.
The door was slightly ajar. Light spilling out.
Rudra held up a hand. Stop.
They listened.
Breathing. Quiet. Ragged.
Someone was inside.
Rudra pushed the door open slowly.
And there she was.
Sneha.
Sitting in the metal chair. Hands restrained. Head slumped forward. Unconscious.
"Sneha!" Bhairav rushed forward.
"Wait—" Rudra started.
But Bhairav was already at her side, checking her pulse.
"She's alive. But she's been drugged."
Anvi was filming, documenting every angle. "We need to get her out of here."
Rudra scanned the room. Cameras in the corners. The restraints looked electronic. And on the wall beside the door was a control panel.
This wasn't just a holding cell.
This was a test chamber.
And they'd just walked into it.
"Rudra," Anvi said slowly. "The door."
Rudra turned.
The door was closing.
He lunged for it—too late.
It sealed shut with a heavy click.
And then the lights went out.
Plunging them into complete darkness.
Bhairav's voice was tight with panic. "What the hell—"
The lights came back on. But different. Red. Emergency lighting.
And then a voice echoed through hidden speakers. Calm. Clinical. Familiar.
Dr. Malhotra.
"Good evening, Rudra. Bhairav. And Ms. Rao. I've been expecting you."
Rudra's fists clenched.
They'd been set up.
"You've been quite persistent," Malhotra continued. "Breaking into restricted areas. Stealing files. Gathering evidence. Very impressive."
"Let us out," Rudra said, voice cold.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, you've stumbled into something you don't understand. Something important."
"You're experimenting on students," Anvi said, voice hard. "Torturing them."
"Torturing?" Malhotra sounded almost offended. "No, no. We're studying psychological resilience. Understanding how the human mind copes with stress. It's groundbreaking research."
"It's illegal," Rudra shot back.
"Legality is a matter of perspective. And funding. Both of which I have secured."
The red lights pulsed.
"But you three... you're different. Resourceful. Intelligent. You'd make excellent subjects."
Rudra felt ice in his veins.
"Welcome to Project Rekha," Malhotra said. "Let's see how resilient you really are."
And then the room began to change.
The walls shifted. Panels sliding back. Revealing new chambers. New obstacles.
This wasn't just a test room.
It was a maze.
And they were trapped inside.