---
**Mumbai, India – 2024**
Detective Adi Shekhawat sat in his office, surrounded by stacks of case files, a half-empty cup of coffee cooling on his desk. The low hum of the fluorescent lights above and the distant sound of traffic from the streets below were the only sounds breaking the silence. He hadn't moved from his chair for hours, his eyes tracing the words in front of him, but his mind was somewhere else. Somewhere deep in thought.
It had been a long week. Three bodies, each discovered under strange circumstances. None of the victims had any obvious connection to one another, and yet something felt… off. These deaths were different. It wasn't the method—no, they weren't gruesome murders with a clear motive. It was the pattern. The timing.
First was Vikram Mehta, a 32-year-old marketing executive. Found dead in his high-rise apartment, no signs of struggle, no forced entry. Just a man slumped over in his living room, his life taken without explanation. The authorities ruled it as a heart attack, but Adi didn't buy it. He knew the signs of a natural death, and this wasn't it.
Then came Ravi Sharma, a 28-year-old hiker. His body was discovered in the Western Ghats, miles away from any civilization, lying cold and lifeless on a remote trail. The cause of death? Unknown. No wounds, no signs of poisoning—nothing. His hiking gear was intact, and there were no signs of foul play. Ravi had simply… collapsed.
Finally, Meenal Raghav, a 24-year-old software engineer. She had been found at her desk late at night, in the office where she worked. Alone. The office doors were locked from the inside, no sign of forced entry. Her colleagues said she had been working late on a project, but nothing unusual had been reported. Her death was ruled as a sudden cardiac arrest. Again, something didn't feel right.
Adi flipped through the reports once more, trying to piece together something—anything—that could link these deaths together. But every page left him with more questions than answers.
There were no enemies, no motives, no ties between the victims. It didn't make sense. The victims had been ordinary people, living ordinary lives. But in this line of work, Adi had learned that ordinary lives rarely remained untouched by the shadows that lingered in the corners of society.
"Another death with no reason," he muttered, rubbing his temples as he leaned back in his chair.
His partner, Soham Desai, walked in, disrupting the quiet. Soham was younger, early thirties, sharp-witted, and always full of energy. He was a stark contrast to Adi's calm demeanor, but together, they made a good team.
"You still at it?" Soham asked, raising an eyebrow. He slid into the chair opposite Adi and took a long look at the files spread across the desk. "You've been at this for hours. Any breakthroughs?"
"Nothing concrete," Adi sighed. "Vikram Mehta, Ravi Sharma, and Meenal Raghav. All dead, all with no clear reason. No connection. Nothing links them together. No pattern, no motive. But the timing—three bodies, all within the span of a week? That can't be a coincidence."
Soham leaned in, flipping open one of the files. "So what now? We're just supposed to wait for the next one?"
Adi shook his head, his fingers tapping the side of his coffee cup as he thought. "I don't think this is a random killer. Someone is pulling the strings, orchestrating these deaths. And if we don't figure out why, we might just be looking at something much bigger."
Soham raised an eyebrow. "You think this could be bigger than we're seeing?"
"I don't know yet," Adi said, staring at the reports. "But it's worth investigating."
"Then let's get started," Soham said, standing up with renewed determination. "What's the plan?"
"Let's go through the families first. We need to understand the victims. Maybe we'll find something they missed."
---
**Vikram Mehta's Family**
The first stop was Vikram Mehta's apartment. Located in one of the poshest neighborhoods in Mumbai, the building towered over the city's skyline. Adi and Soham arrived at the front gates, where a uniformed security guard greeted them.
"Detective Shekhawat," Adi introduced himself, showing his badge. "We're here to speak with the Mehta family."
The guard nodded and led them through the marble lobby, up to the tenth floor. As they reached Vikram's apartment, Adi couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the luxurious surroundings and the emptiness that lingered in the air. The apartment door opened with a soft creak, and inside, Mrs. Mehta, a middle-aged woman with graying hair and tired eyes, stood waiting.
"Detectives," she said in a soft voice. "I'm Vikram's mother. I… I still can't believe he's gone."
"We're so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Mehta," Adi said gently. "I know this is hard, but we need to ask you a few questions about Vikram. It might help us understand what happened."
Mrs. Mehta nodded slowly, leading them into the living room. The space was immaculate, with photographs of Vikram scattered throughout—his graduation pictures, family vacations, his wedding day. There was nothing that suggested the tragedy that had occurred just days ago.
"Can you tell us about Vikram in the days before his death?" Adi asked, his voice calm yet probing.
Mrs. Mehta hesitated, her eyes distant as if she were still trying to piece together the puzzle of her son's sudden death. "He was… different. The last few weeks, he seemed distant. He didn't want to talk about his work, and he didn't visit us as much. He used to come by every weekend, but he stopped showing up."
Soham leaned forward, his voice gentle. "Did he mention anything unusual? Maybe someone or something that was bothering him?"
Mrs. Mehta shook her head slowly. "No, nothing like that. He was just… withdrawn. But before he passed, he said something strange. He told me he felt 'pulled' in a direction, like he was being called to something. I didn't understand what he meant."
Adi exchanged a glance with Soham. "What direction? Did he say where he was going?"
"No, he didn't," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "But he said he had to get away. That he needed to 'disconnect' for a while. That was the last time I saw him alive."
---
**Ravi Sharma's Family**
Next, Adi and Soham visited Ravi Sharma's family. The house was tucked away in the quieter parts of Mumbai, near the base of the Western Ghats. The small bungalow was surrounded by lush greenery, a stark contrast to the chaotic city they had just left.
Ravi's father, an older man with a deeply furrowed brow, greeted them at the door. His face was weathered, and his hands shook slightly as he invited the detectives inside.
"Ravi was my only son," he said, his voice heavy with grief. "I don't understand. He was fit, healthy. He loved the outdoors. This… this doesn't make sense."
"We're sorry for your loss, Mr. Sharma," Adi said. "I know this is hard, but we need to ask a few questions."
Ravi's father nodded, sitting down with them in the living room. "Anything. I'll do anything to find out why my son is dead."
"What can you tell us about Ravi in the days before his hike?" Soham asked.
Mr. Sharma sighed deeply. "Ravi had been different lately. He was always a solitary person, but the last few weeks, he started talking about feeling… 'drawn' to something. He wanted to go on that hike in the Ghats, but it wasn't just for the views. He seemed almost... obsessed with it."
"Did he mention anything specific? Who or what he was following?" Adi asked.
"No," Mr. Sharma replied, shaking his head. "But before he left, he said something strange. He said the mountains were calling him, and that he had to go. He looked at me like he was… in a trance."
Adi exchanged another look with Soham. There it was again. That same unsettling feeling. "Did anyone else know about his plans? Any friends, any enemies?"
"No one, Detective," Mr. Sharma said, his voice faltering. "No one knew. It was like he kept it to himself. I just… I just don't understand."
---
**The Cliffhanger**
As they left Ravi Sharma's house, the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together. Each victim had said they were "called" to something. It was the same phrase. It couldn't be a coincidence.
"This is too much," Soham muttered, shaking his head. "Something's not right about all this."
Adi's mind raced. The deaths were connected, but not in the way he had first imagined. The victims were drawn to something—or someone. But who? And why?
As they got into the car, Adi's phone buzzed with a new message. He glanced at the screen, his heart
sinking.
The message was from an anonymous source.
"*The game has just begun. You've been watching the wrong people. The answers are closer than you think.*"
And with that, the first thread of the case pulled loose, revealing something far darker lurking beneath the surface.
---