Ayan pulled the trigger.
The loud bang cut through the air, and the farmer crumpled to the ground. Ayan stood there, panting, the gun trembling in his grip, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He wiped the blood from his eyes, the world still spinning, but his mission was clear.
"Come on," Ayan gasped, pulling Laxmi toward the car, desperate to escape the madness closing in around them.
Ayan's body jerked violently, his fingers curling into the leather armrest of the chair as though trying to grip onto reality. His chest heaved, breath coming in shallow gasps. The room was dim, illuminated by the soft glow of the monitors flickering beside him, casting erratic shadows across the floor. Sweat trickled down his brow, dripping onto his clenched fists.
Crew members hovered around him, the soft hum of machines filling the air. The beeping of the monitor picked up, its rhythm growing sharper, faster. A rising, eerie tension thickened the air.
